Sandra sank further into the bath, the warm water lapping over her shapely frame. The marble lined tub filled to the brim with scalding water was the magnum opus of luxury. Dim lights accentuated by the flicker of candles and a faint scent of lavender completing the relaxing mood. The lavish expanse of the room, not a wall for meters in any direction from the opulent tub, contrasted heavily with her memory of the recent past. If only she could stay here forever, in this moment. But this was not her reward; this was her test.

For the past year Sandra had been a slave, a consensual one. A prisoner in a tight dungeon tormented daily in scenarios only a mad man could dream up, and she loved it, nearly every second of it, in hindsight. That is the curse of a fantasy such as hers. As far back as memories could be recalled Sandra had loved the feel of rope and the tight pull of bondage. Even as a child she had, without knowing then what it meant, played silly games as an escape artist. As a small girl with a slender and wiry frame she was good at escaping and justified to herself the love of being tied up by the thrill of competition. What was incomprehensible to her young mind was why she always loved it so much more when she couldn't escape, when she was bound at their mercy. When she was at his mercy.

As Sandra aged and matured new element gradually entered her play. A sexual element that was not there before. With it her masochistic side became victim of her own sadistic desires. The years stacked and the scenarios grew more elaborate. The fantasies grew more lavish, and with them came the thrill of thinking of what she would be forced to endure even if the realities of enduring were not always so fantastic when they were occurring.

Over the dim light and soft melody of chamber music Sandra wished she could be alert, but every sense was dulled by the opulence of the room and the warm embrace of the water. It had been too long since she had felt luxury like this, a warm bath in a spacious room. She had been hosed with cold water to clean going back at least a month. And in the next room over, through the open door, she could see the queen sized bed drawn up for her. A down duvet was waiting for her to fall into it when she could take no more pleasure from the bath. For a year a firm, soiled mattress had been luxury when she was lucky enough to not be bound for the night. But she had asked for this, all of this. In the moments when she lay struggling for comfort in a tiny cell she hated it. She hated every moment of it. When he dreamed up cruel games that left her cramped or contorted she cursed the seconds as they swung by. And when he teased her, that was the worst of it all. But in the aftermath, or even worse, thinking about what was to come, the arousal took over. The moments of bliss were worth it. A hot bath after months of longing was almost as good as an orgasm forced from a bound frame. Hers was not a normal fetish; it couldn't be, could it? But it was hers.

The best part of today was the aloneness, no screams or whimpers in her ear. No girls around her, in their own torment, foreshadowing what was to come or reminding you of what had been. She had signed up so very long ago to be his plaything, but he was not one to keep a lonely girl. There had been more before her, and more after. And she had gotten used to being bound near them, or to be teased by them when the other girls were free, to tease them when she was free or ordered to. She had always been superior to some of them, ranked higher then them based on a sick game they all got to play when first recruited. She could remember it now, and that's what should have made her so nervous. But every thought, save that joyful nirvana as she stretched out comfortably in the tub, sank to the back of her mind.

Sandra's fingers dropped slowly to the peak of her slit. Uncovered and exposed for the first time in so very long. He gave pleasure along with bondage throughout her stay, but not as often as she could have wanted in the moment, and far less frequently near the end. The touch sent a shiver up her spine. It had been 4 months since she had felt that, but this was a dangerous game, especially tonight. If she went to far before the games began it would count as a loss. She pulled her finger back to her lips and bit it gently. The warm water was enough, had to be enough, for now.

Elizabeth prepared. Tonight would decide so many things about her future and she was anxious. She was playing a game against a much more practiced opponent. It had been only one week since she signed away her freedom. A year loomed ahead to live what she had always thought was her fantasy, but it seemed so much more intimidating now that it had begun. When the ink dabbed the paper it had made her wet, as wet as the thought of what was to come ever could. Her stomach had dropped as the endorphins swarmed throughout her form. It was the clicking of a different kind of lock. The fantasy became real in that moment, though her immediate situation had not changed. But the danger in bondage is in enduring what your aroused mind gets off on thinking about. It was one year that she would be his plaything, and if she was competent tonight it would never be that bad. One year and then she could forever fantasize on what she had endured. One year and she would know the limits of her fantasies. One year and she would be financially set for life. At least possibly only one year. That's what tonight was about wasn't it.

She almost wondered if she should be nice, to give the gift she hoped someone would give her in one year's time. But if she failed tonight it would be a year as the lowest of the low. The sub to other subs. She was as curious as any historically only strait girl could be. She was ready to use her mouth to pleasure another woman. The thought of such subservience got her off. But she knew it would be different once staring a woman's slit in the eyes. If she was good at it tonight though she could be eased in in the future. There would be a sub below her she could use when she needed it. She would avoid the worst tasks doled out by him. But if she failed licking another woman's cunt might be a luxurious break from the other crevices she would be typically used to lick on the woman around her.

Tonight was a game. She would come into the hotel room where a soon-to-be former sub would be bound and blindfolded. She would have time, half an hour, to set the mood, to delicately massage or tease, to warm the other woman up. To begin to explore her body with fingers, hands and tongue. Then the bell would ring and the true game would begin. For five minutes Elizabeth would get a head start to bring this woman to a climax. Five minutes to get her off before the second bell rang and the game might end. If she didn't give this woman an orgasm she would be the lowest of the low among the slaves for her year. If she didn't give this woman an orgasm she would spend every moment of tight bondage regretting what could have been. She would likely spend the whole year orgasm free herself. And then what would happen at the end of the year, how could she hold out then.

Sandra dried herself as she exited the tub. The towels were so soft and plump. The room beckoned for her to join it, to stay as long as she could, but the voice in the back of her head was growing stronger. She could not afford what 24 hours in a room like this cost. Not today. In another week she could pamper herself all she wanted. She had endured slightly under a year, almost free as stipulated under her contract. At the end of tonight she would be thrust back into her cold dungeon, waiting her freedom that was only one week away. She simply had to endure one more test.

A glance at the clock told her it was time, and she knew he was watching on the cameras. She fished around on the corners of the bed and found what was hidden there, leather arm binders ready for use. The attachments were short, they would leave her mercilessly bound spread eagle, but it was time. It was better this way; she could smell her sex, free for the first time in four months. It was screaming out for attention and another few minutes free and she would probably give in. What a cost a little indiscretion could have.

She bound her legs first, and then tied the scarf over her eyes, she knew the routine; Sandra still remembered her time on the other side of this little exchange. How desperate she had been then, how eager to win. She hoped she did not find an opponent like that. The poor girl had not lasted the five minutes. There were tears in her eyes as Sandra had left her, but were they tears of bliss or tears of dread. She never would know.

The room called to her temptingly as she sunk into the bed lying down to attach her wrists. "At least if you lose", sang a treacherous voice in the back of her head, "you get to stay in the room until the morning." The wrist straps had pull cords attached. Feed them through first and you can pull it tight with the hand that is being bound. She could tie herself up no problem but for freedom she would need help. It would come, but hopeful after the second bell, after she yelled, "Stop!" If help came then it would come to whisk her away back to her dungeon, back to bondage and torment. It would be a miserable night. But if it came that way, in a week she would be free.

Sandra heard the door open. The game was about to begin. If she made it to the second bell, if she still had the strength left to say stop, if she made it all that way without an orgasm, then she won and was only a week away from freedom. If not her contract extended another year. The cost of an orgasm was one more year as the lowest sub of the low: a year that would likely be orgasm free, demeaning, and strict. The threat of such a fate had turned her on so much a year ago when she signed up. Two years is an arousing prospect when it's only a fantasy. But the past year had made it a reality. She had endured so much and it had been difficult while she lived it. It was a year of crippling physical and grueling emotional strain. Now, with it behind her, she loved every second, taking pride in what she had become: she loved the bondage slut she now was. But the prospect of another year terrified her. She was one week away from freedom, not halfway done. She had to be.

Elizabeth entered the room with her best seductive step. Slowly approaching the bed, tantalizing in the stripping off of her coat. She tossed it flagrantly to the chair in the corner. "Can this other woman get a thrill from my stripping?" the thought ran through her mind. Every ounce of femininity was to be on display, or should she be going for masculinity in a lesbian encounter? That's when she recalled the blindfold. She was thankful for it now as she turned bright red at the futility of her entrance. Hopefully he enjoyed the show, from wherever he was watching.

This was her first time with a woman, let alone first time as a dom, and she had no idea what to do. But she dared not stop lest the uncertainty paralyze her. She was a woman herself, and certainly no virgin. And she had some time to warm up, to practice, to experiment on this captive beauty. She tried to take in the sight, to let her own desires warm up and help her out. She began to reach out her hand, still halfway across the room from the woman but her arm trembled.She had to conquer these nerves. This was a game she would not lose. She took a deep breath, gazing at the perky nipples; this woman was already anticipating what was to come. That was enough.

Elizabeth moved towards the woman, ran her hand gently across her side, soft at first then firmly. Elizabeth scooped the woman's chin with her palm and kissed her softly. She felt the lips responding. Reluctantly the woman kissed her back and she continued from there.

Sandra kissed the woman. At first she was kissed but as the tongue lingered around her own, as the soft caress began to move across her skin she responded. Now she was kissing back until the lips were drawn away. The slight smell of mint from the woman's breath hung on her own. Sandra's arms strained a little, testing the bonds, before submitting to the gently stroke of fingers over her breasts. If she got off now, if she had an orgasm before the first bell rang, it was free. There was no cost in such actions. Still it was a risky strategy that her brain was rationalizing, but as the fingers of this woman gently ran along the sides of her vulva, not opening, just stroking, her doubts melted away. It has been so long since she was touched this way. Sex in the past year had been marvellous; every touch was electric, but a certain sensuality was deprived when an orgasm was ripped out during bondage. This was something different, something half remembered, something fantastic.

The woman was responding amazingly to her touch. Her back arched, her hips pressed her sex into Elizabeth's waiting hand. Still she had to take it slow. The first bell wouldn't ring for fifteen minutes yet, and she had the advantage of denial. If this woman managed to orgasm before then it might be hard to bring her back again. She slowed down and savoured the woman's breasts, gently licking circles around the nipples. Her hands wandered, remembering the wanderings of a past lover, tracing patterns on the smooth skin. And as she watched the clock from the corner of her eyes a plan emerged. With only a minute to go before the bell would ring she moved her lips close and kissed the woman on her lower lips. Her tongue ran firmly up the lips from base to tip. The taste and soft scent faded away in the moment. All of her senses meshed with the woman as she rationalized the sensations vicariously. The labia were opening for her and all that mattered were this woman's reactions. She slowly felt her way in with her tongue. Her nose gently brushed a sensitive area and the woman shuddered. Then Elizabeth started moving her tongue towards the clit.

The tongue of this woman was moving ever so determinately towards her button. She was only a tap away. The softest touch and Sandra was sure she would explode with the most passionate explosion, a free orgasm stolen out in the game. Then with the soft chime of a distant bell everything changed.

That dreadful sound brought her back to reality. She had to last five minutes. She was so close, too close, but she couldn't take another year this had to shut down.

The mood changed when the bell rang. This woman had been actively grinding her pussy into Elizabeth's mouth and now suddenly she lay rigidly still. Surely Elizabeth had been close to getting her off, but the woman had pulled back with amazing mental fortitude. She was pulled out of her own fantasy and almost fumbled; her tongue wavered mid-stroke.

No, this was go time and she had to do what she could. She wrapped her tongue around the woman's clit and began to play. Little circles, tiny flicks, long deep glides, faint taps, everything she could try. At first the woman resisted, but she began to find the rhythm. The panic faded away and Elizabeth settled once more into the fantasy. She was getting through to this woman. She could win this. The bound woman let out a muffled groan, then a sigh. She was close, so close.

Every moment of holding off was an eternity. The ecstasy she had longed for these past 4 months was simply a change of will away. It threatened to be stolen from her anyway. She had gotten too close to the edge to pull back, to actually cool down. And the feeling was so sublime. "You can ride this thrill and sleep in this bed tonight" her unconscious mind sang. "You can masturbate under the covers all night long. You can make up for the year of chastity you will have to endure. Give yourself this. "

The thought of the year itself began to fade away. That was a problem for future Sandra, in the here, in the now only the touch mattered. A thumb pressing into her thigh, a tongue tracing a circle, hot breath beating across her most intimate regions. A woman was below her in love with her most delicate area. Truly appreciating her.

Perhaps a minute longer and there would have been no choice. She would have been the bottom sub below this new comer. But the second bell rang.

All she had to do was say "stop" and she would be free. One week of hell to recover from the edge she was hanging on now.

She opened her mouth but the other woman did not let up. Just a whisper and it would end. The woman was pouring every ounce of effort she could muster into Sandra's poor denied clit. Her panic had renewed a fire Sandra struggled to quench. Her arms strained the restraint, her back arched. She wanted to hold off, to live in this moment for just a few more seconds before it all came crashing down. These were dangerous thoughts. She had to say it now or she never would be able to utter anything that would deny her what was coming. She had to say it now. Please, let her say it now. A year would be such a very, very long time to not feel this again . . .