He held my hand a little longer than a normal handshake, turning and saying, “Follow me, everything is ready.”
Behind the swinging door was a brightly lit hallway. I was feeling better about things, fearing this would be a dark and dingy shop. Far from it. Framed posters and pictures hung on the walls. We went near the end of the hall, #5. Entering I was again pleased. The floor was nicely tiled, a salon chair, bright lights, mirrors making the room look larger than it was. A private room for an important client, I smiled to myself.
“You want to put your bag on the chair?” he suggested, pointing to one of three chairs against the side wall. “Then just take a seat.”
I did as directed.
“Are you a little nervous?”
“Yes,” I replied. No sense in hiding the truth.
“Hey, don’t be.” He sat on a rolling stool and glided over to me. “You’ve had some piercings before, unless you did them yourself?”
“No, I went to a shop at the mall.”
“Right. Ears and navel. Very nice. Any other piercings I cannot see?”
“No, Sir.”
“I love your look. The steel collar and cuffs are beautiful against your tan and skin tone.” He smiled and I returned his smile, without comment.
He sat back on his stool, very relaxed. “You in school?”
“Yes, UCLA.”
“Oh, nice. A college girl can always use a little extra cash. Over the Edge pays well, I am told.”
“Yes, so far, though I only had one shoot last night.”
“Did you enjoy it?”
“Yes, it was a lot of fun.” I guess he was trying to get me to relax, but I had to know. “What are you going to do to me?” There were probably better ways to phrase it, but that is what I said.
He laughed, pleasantly. He rose from his stool, moving to the side. I watched him as he approached a folder, as though confirming what he surely knew. “Your Master called me yesterday before your first shoot and made the appointment. He must have had a good feeling about you and your talents.” He turned and smiled again. He had spikes in each ear, a few discrete tats on his left wrist and right forearm.
I did not respond, just lowered my eyes humbly.
“You trust him, right?”
He could only be talking about Master. “Yes, I guess so.”
He had moved behind me and slightly tilted back the chair. “You guess so? I have always found him to be trustworthy and a real professional, though I must say, this is the first time I worked on one of his models when she didn’t already know our plan.”
He still had not told me ‘the plan.’ Neither had he asked me to remove my blouse or skirt. Had he done that, I might have said, ‘No, thanks,’ and walked right out.
“I am not totally familiar with Gorean culture, but he explained a little to me yesterday. I assume you are?” He placed my arms along the chair arm rests, still standing behind me, out of my view.”
“Yes, I…” The moment I started to respond, metal flaps appeared along the arm rests, trapping my arms to the chair. When I said “I,” suddenly a red rubber-like ball was forced into my mouth, straps hanging from the side. My reaction was so slow and I was totally caught by surprise. I tried to scream and wriggle free, but in just seconds, he had strapped the ball gag around the back of my neck and had quickly used the cuffs already on my ankles to clip to rings at the foot of the chair.
“Hey, hey, relax, I know this seems extreme, but your Master suggested this, just in case your trust was not as deep as he hoped.”
I continued to pant and struggle, but I was totally immobilized. “Just breathe through your nose, that’s right, relax, think of this as your Gorean moment,” he smiled. My eyes were wide with fear.
“So, if I understand it correctly, pierced ears are terrifying to Gorean girls. Is that right?” Back to his calm conversational tone, sitting on his rolling chair, not a worry in the world. And I was bound and gagged, and hardly calm. I just stared at him.
“Yes, well, that is what I am told, that earrings are the most degrading of piercings, because they mark the girl as a slave. On the other hand, a septum ring is considered culturally acceptable, and Gorean girls have no problem with such a piercing.” He stared at me. I could not deny what he was saying, but this was not Gor. I admit that the thought of a nose ring had occurred to me, but I had rejected it immediately. I could never face my friends and family looking like a freak, or a farm animal.
“Anyway, your Master says that he thinks your niche in modeling could be as a Gorean slave, so he wants a nose ring and a brand for you. And he thought you might not agree willingly, hence the need to restrict your movement. I do quality work, and I wouldn’t want it spoiled by a sudden jerk that you might make.” A nose ring and a brand! Noooooooooooooo! I started to panic again.
“Hey, now, wait, I haven’t finished. Your Master understands your concern, so let me explain. First, while I will be piercing your septum, you will not be getting a bull ring. It will be horseshoe-shaped and I promise you 100% that you can flip it back into your nostrils and no one will notice. I’m not kidding!” And with that, he reached into his nostrils and out popped a dark blue ring, exactly as he described. I had no idea it was there, before he exposed it. I calmed slightly.
“See what I mean, totally hidden. And as for the brand, well, we discussed that, also. The Gorean brand, as I understand, is actually a cursive K that is heated red hot in a fire and pushed against your upper thigh. Sounds nasty, but then a slave is not much more than an animal in the eyes of her owner, right?” He kept asking questions, but I was just staring back, in rapt attention.
“So, yeah, there is no way to have a fire in this shop, without setting off the alarms. I told him he could take you to the fire pits down at Malibu and have a marking ceremony,” he smiled, as though I would find this funny.
“He told me that was a good idea, maybe for the future, but for now we agreed to something more discrete. We discussed various options, including a smaller K on the inside of your thigh, or above your pussy, or even high on the back of your neck. None of these would be seen unless you allowed it.” I could not believe these options. Never would I have allowed this!
“We decided on a ‘brand’ that would slowly disappear. Henna. I will add a slightly more reddish coloring, and it will look exactly like it was burned into your thigh. And the best thing, of course, is that it is not permanent. Two weeks and it will be gone, unless of course you have gotten used to it and want to make it permanent.” His calming smile.
“I think you approve. You know why?” Again, the pleasant smile. “Because I can smell your musk.”
I am sure my eyes widened and for a moment I stopped breathing. I was sure he was right. My pussy was tingling, my clit was at attention. I hadn’t realized this until he brought it up. How humiliating, to be juicing like a grapefruit as a result of being bondaged and having something done to me without my total agreement.
“Yes, well, who knows, you might even cum before we finish. Let’s get started. I am going to place a strap across your forehead. Any movement could spoil things. Tilt your head up slightly. There. Perfect.” I was bound to the head rest. He would do what he planned.
He dabbed both sides of my septum with alcohol, then used a marking pen to place a dot inside each nostril. “I am going to place this slightly further back. You have a small nose and as I said, I want to be sure you can hide it.”
I don’t know what I expected, I guess some sort of hole punch, but he very quickly placed a metal piece up one nostril, advised me to breathe in, exhale, breathe in, hold my breath, and with a long, sharp needle simply forced it quickly and fairly painlessly through the cartilage of my septum. I had planned on screaming, maybe even fainting, but on a scale of 1 to 10, the pain was no more than a 4 or 5.
I could see the needle poking out both sides of my nose. He then took a silver U-shaped ring, somehow attached it to the left side of the needle, and pulled it through. I grunted in discomfort and my eyes watered, but it was done. He screwed a little ball on the one side of the ring, tightening it, to match the ball on the other side. He dabbed both sides with alcohol, and I could see a small amount of blood on the cotton ball.
“Perfect. You are a brave slave,” and he released my bound forehead from the rest. “Do you promise to not scream or yell if I remove the gag?” I nodded my head. There was no point in protesting what had already been done. I flexed my mouth as he released my arms. He brought me a cup of orange juice from his tiny fridge. Only my ankles were still in bondage to the chair.
“Thank you,” I rasped.
He brought over a small mirror and showed me the piercing. “Can I touch it?” I asked.
“Sure, but let’s wait a little while before I show you how easy it is to hide.
I looked into the mirror. I saw a Gorean kajira look back. Large hoop earrings, collared in steel, and a ring through her nose. Barbaric. Be still my clitty; you have already embarrassed me enough for one morning.
“Ok, now for the henna brand.” Joel released my ankles and held my hand as we walked back up the hallway to #2. I was not steady on my feet. I guess it was the backlash from the adrenalin rush.
He had me lie down on a soft bed, much like any doctor’s office. “I need you to raise your skirt up as high as possible. You don’t want any of the henna on your clothes.” I obeyed, modesty furthest from my mind at this point. I wanted to surprise Master, so I was not wearing any panties. I tucked the skirt into my crotch, but one tug was all it would take. I looked into his face and only a smile was reflected. A gentleman from the moment I met him. Relief to be sure, but also did I sense some disappointment within my mind? Good girl quickly accepting bad girl ideas, I mused.
Leave a Reply