Prelude 2 (BDSM)

"Stand where you are and put your hands on your head and your legs wide apart, Five."

A gruff voice from somewhere in the room barks orders at me and I comply immediately, eager to show them how badly I want this.

"Tell me, Five. Are you already trained or do you require… breaking in?" The voice is closer now. I shiver again.

"I am trained in some arts, Sir, but am ready to learn more."

"Show me how you present yourself to your betters, Five."

I remember my training and drop to my knees, ignoring the slight pain as I hit the cold concrete floor. Lowering my head, I lay my hands on my lap, palms open. I show him that I am ready to submit.

I feel the air move around me and can sense him circling me, the predator assessing his prey.

"Arch your back more and push out your tits," he growled softly, the absolute authority like steel in his voice. "Point your toes and put your feet together so you can sit on them."

I move quickly to comply with his orders and I feel his hot breath on the back of my neck. "You move fast, Five. So eager to be objectified as an Offering, are you?"

The danger in his voice makes me tremble further with desire. I have longed to be an Offering for years and now that it is finally within my grasp, I can barely contain myself.

With a deep breath, I whisper out a meek, "If it pleases you, sir," and continue to crouch in my submissive posture, the pleasurable pressure of the butt plug challenging me to keep quiet.

"Do you understand what will be asked of you, if you are chosen as an Offering, Five?" His breath on my neck makes me shiver again, my arousal growing more potent.

"You will become ours to use as we see fit. You will give up your free will and our pleasure will be your requirement. Your pleasure is ours to give or not, but only when we command. Do you understand what you are giving, Five? Nothing is off limits."

"Yes sir. I am giving my total submission as an Offering. I do so in full awareness of what it means and I consent." My breath came in pants as I felt the intensity of the room rise up again and the cold harsh reality of what I am saying, what I am agreeing to begins to sink in.

Being an Offering is not casual play. My Sir, the one who had trained me, spoke of these meetings often. The best of the best are allowed to compete to be an Offering, to be allowed to be a plaything for The Collective, the most powerful players in the world. In return for being an Offering and doing well, a submissive might gain material wealth, social standing, and membership in a very elite club. It was our strange little community's version of the submissive Olympics and I was determined to not only compete, but to be the best.

"Very well, Five. You interest me enough to present you as one of our Offerings this evening. You will rise and follow the lights into the next room. When you find the bed, you will lay upon it and wait. You will pull your shades on your mask so you cannot see. I expect you to be a Good Girl, Five."

My heart explodes in a fit of euphoria. I did it! I made it!

My whole body felt both alive and numb as I rose and made my way through the dimly lit room to the door that was lit with a red glow stick. Pushing open the door, I saw a beautiful four-poster bed with plush pillows and silken sheets.

It is time to be an Offering.