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Raven’s Initiation

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Raven walked up the front steps to the house. She looked at the piece of paper in her hand, confirming the address. It was a very ordinary house, on a very ordinary street. Only the fact that heavy drapes covered all the windows suggested that it was other than a typical suburban home.

Raven had received the letter that morning, with the address and directions neatly typed. She had been waiting for the letter, and at the same time fearful of its arrival. She had been told what to wear, and she had followed the instructions to the letter: she wore a simple outfit of jeans and a T-shirt, socks and running shoes. She had a simple pair of panties and a bra on underneath. She wore no jewellery or makeup, but she had worn a sweater, which she had been told she could do if it was chilly. The weather was not particularly cold but Raven had worn one anyway, and she was glad she had, for now a shiver went up her spine as she pressed the door bell.

To her surprise, a woman opened the door. She appeared to be in her thirties but it was hard to tell. She had dark blond hair, cut short, and she wore a simple white sleeveless dress of flowing fabric. The dress reached to her knees and she was barefoot.

“Yes?, she asked. “May I help you?”

“I’m Raven.”

“Ah, yes, we have been expecting you. Please come in.” She closed the door behind Raven, turning the dead-bolt lock as she did so. “My name is CJ. I am to assist you today. Please follow me.”

Raven was taken aback. What would she need assistance for? Where was the man she was expecting? An odd feeling came over her as she followed the woman into the house. CJ opened a door and led Raven into a room. It was a bathroom, elegantly furnished. Along one wall was a fireplace, a small blaze already crackling away. Very traditional, there was a large rack of logs next to it. Beside the fireplace were cabinets and shelves with soaps, shampoos and lotions placed neatly. At the end of the room was a large deep sink, supported on iron legs. The bathtub stood in the exact centre of the room, a large claw foot affair, raised on a plinth. In the corner, discretely behind a moveable screen was the toilet. Beside the bathtub was a very solid looking massage table.

“Please”, said CJ. “Undress here.”

Raven bit her lip. It wasn’t quite what she had expected. She had never undressed in front of a woman before. But she had been warned that she might have to do things she had never done before. She started to undress. CJ tapped the table, indicating she was to put her clothes there.

“Now sit here, on the table.” Raven did as she was told, thankful for the warmth of the fireplace. The surface of the table was steel and very cold. CJ bundled up her clothes, took several steps with the bundle and threw them on the fire. The fire blazed up with the addition of the fresh fuel.

“Hey, those are my clothes!”, Raven exclaimed. CJ put her fingers to her lips, and Raven fell silent. How would she go home now without her clothes? She began to worry about what she had let herself in for. She began to look more carefully around the room. It was comfortable enough, but hanging on the wall were a number of devices for which she could only imagine the purpose. There were things like enema bags, and long tubes, and she felt her stomach clenching at the thought of some of them being used on her.

As Raven had been observing her surroundings, CJ had busied herself and drawn a hot bath, adding bath salts as the water had filled the tub. She tested the temperature of the water and told Raven to get in. Raven slid off the table and stepped into the tub, the warm water feeling good on her calves. CJ held her arm as she sat down in the tub. She smiled as she splashed water on Raven, and Raven stared straight ahead as CJ began to soap her up. Not only had she undressed in front of this woman, now she was letting her give her a bath. But CJ’s hands were quick and gentle, and soon she relaxed, even as CJ rubbed soap over her breasts. Raven sighed luxuriously and lay back in the tub, feeling very pampered.

Thoroughly washed, and after several rinses, CJ took a large towel off the rack and told Raven to once again get on the table, and to lie down. Raven took the towel and dried herself vigorously, while CJ busied herself at the sink. She turned back to the table, carrying several towels, all wet and steaming. As Raven lay down, CJ packed the warm wet towels along her legs, across her pubic hair and under her arms. Raven’s eyes darted back and forth, wondering what this was for.

CJ returned to the cabinet, and took a straight razor from the shelf. Raven felt her blood run cold. ‘O my god’ she thought, ‘This woman is a maniac! She’s going to slash me!’. CJ caught her eye and laughed. “Relax, dear, I’m just going to shave you. Master insists that we use all the traditional tools here.”

She whipped up some shaving cream with a brush. She began with her underarms, sliding the towel away and scraping at the tender skin with the razor. Raven tensed for a moment, then relaxed as it became apparent CJ was very skilled with the instrument. Cradling her upper arm so that she could pull the skin taut with her fingers as she slid the razor deftly across the skin, she occasionally wiped the shining blade on the towel. With her underarms completed, she let her fingers trail across Karen’s belly, pulling at the towel between her legs. Raven opened her legs, surprised at how willingly she did so. Only a short time ago she had been very nervous about even undressing in front of this woman, and now she was letting her shave her pubic hair with a straight razor!

CJ finished by shaving Raven’s legs, explaining that the hair was toughest there so it was left under the hot towels the longest. The razor slid through the shaving cream quickly and smoothly, and CJ finished the job without a nick. She wiped Raven with another towel and applied some alcohol, which stung a little. Then she took a barber’s brush, dusted it with talcum powder and brushed it all over Raven’s body. Raven closed her eyes as CJ lightly touched her face with the brush.

Opening a drawer, CJ removed a pair of shoes with very shiny narrow leather straps and 3″ heels. She held Raven’s feet as she fitted the pumps, closing each buckle neatly. She helped Raven to sit up on the edge of the table, and indicated she was to stand up. Raven did so, feeling a little unsteady as she stood there in the unfamiliar shoes. She felt a little wicked, being completely nude, yet wearing these very sexy shoes.

CJ took a strip of fabric from a drawer, eight feet long and a foot wide, a length of white silk. She draped it around Raven’s neck, so that the two lengths of cloth hung across her breasts. Taking a second piece of fabric the same as the first, she draped it so that it hung down her back, the center of her buttocks tantalizingly exposed. CJ fussed with the fabric, making sure that it fell just so, then pinned the two pieces together with a pair of ornate iron clasps.

“You must not sit down,” CJ said. “Please wait here until we come for you.” She departed through the door, closing it behind her. Raven stood there, alone with her thoughts. Her entire body was tingling from the bath, the shaving, the touch of the silk on her skin. She could hear her breath in the silence of the room, as she stood there waiting, her arms at her side.

The door opened again. It was CJ. She spoke not a word, but offered her arm to Raven. Raven stepped forward, wobbling a bit as she became accustomed to the new shoes. She took CJ’s arm and followed her through the door. They walked down the hall together, turned and entered through a pair of double doors. There was a man waiting in the room, a man she knew was the Artist, and she knew that her time had come at last.

Another fireplace, twice the size of the one in the bathroom, was at one end of the room. Several huge logs were burning fiercely in it. Along one wall was a series of cabinets and drawers, on the other several pieces of furniture, some of them obviously leaned up against the wall awaiting future use. Looking up, Raven saw that the room had a very high ceiling. In the dim firelight, she could not make out just how high it was. She could, however, see an open grid of pipes with a number of theatrical-type spotlights hanging from them, as well as several ropes and pulleys. She felt a chill run up her spine as she walked across the hardwood floor.

The Artist did not speak. He nodded at CJ, who stepped to one side, leaving Raven in the center of the room. He walked around her, inspecting her. At one point he adjusted the cloth hanging down around her legs. He smiled at CJ, who bowed her head in respect.

He spoke. “Now Raven, your training begins. Will you say here now, in front of this witness, that you do this willingly?”

Raven found herself speaking in a very small voice. “Yes, Sir…..I do this…willingly.”

The Artist took her arms and crossed the wrists. He reached for a nearby drawer and opened it, from which he took a length of braided cotton sash cord, one half inch in diameter. He tied a half hitch around her left wrists and then began to wrap the soft rope around them. He made five loops, then changed direction, making five more at right angles to the first, snugging up at each loop, to ensure the lashings were tight. As he lashed her wrists together he weaved a second piece of rope into the lashing so that when it was complete, Raven’s wrists where bound tightly, with a loop of cord between the backs of her hands.

The Artist motioned to CJ, who untied a rope secured to the wall. An old-fashioned block and tackle descended from the dark ceiling. He took the hook and secured it to the loop between her hands and indicated to CJ to take up the slack. The double block pulley gave CJ a four-to- one mechanical advantage, and she easily pulled Raven’s arms up until she was standing on tiptoe. If she had wanted to, she could have lifted her clear off the ground quite easily.

Raven felt the ropes pull upwards on her arms and gave a little cry as she felt her shoulders take the weight. She found herself balancing on tiptoe, but if she relaxed her feet her entire weight was transferred to her shoulders. She felt her pulse start to increase.

The artist knelt at her feet, removing the shoes that CJ had so carefully buckled on such a short time before. Raven felt her bare toes grip the floor, momentarily enjoying a respite from balancing. The Artist opened another drawer and removed a long object. He showed it to Raven. It was a set of leg irons, with an adjustable spreader bar between them. He knelt in front of Raven and attached the heavy apparatus to her legs. As he spread her ankles, Raven gasped as her feet came off the floor, the weight of the irons adding to the weight of her body as she turned slowly, inches off the floor. The Artist nodded to CJ, who adjusted the rope, lowering Raven so that once again, her toes just touched the floor.

The Artist took a wooden chair from the side of the room and sat down facing Raven. He leaned back and watched her, waiting for any cry to come from her lips. For her part, Raven wanted to whimper, but knew that she could not. She hung on, the ache in her shoulders growing stronger, and she felt beads of sweat forming on her forehead.

The Artist rose and slid the chair back over to the side of the room. Once again he walked around the tiny bound woman who hung in front of him. From the shadows, CJ watched silently. The Artist opened a cabinet drawer and pulled out an object in a cloth bag. He slid the cloth off of it, revealing a wooden paddle, thirty inches long and three inches wide. He slapped it against his hand, the smack resounding in the silent room. He moved close to Raven and whispered in her ear: “There will be no shame if you cry out at this point, my dear. You are permitted to openly….express yourself.”

Raven knew what was coming and steeled herself for the blow, holding her breath. He waited. She exhaled and breathed rapidly, in, out, in, out…SMACK!. The paddle hit her buttocks in a stinging blow. Raven yelped at the sudden, unexpected pain, then felt her body relax, knowing that another blow would follow it. It did and so did the many others, but not evenly spaced. Sometimes the paddle would hit rapidly in succession, at others there would be a long pause as the Artist waited for her breathing to return to normal. Sometimes the blows were quick and stinging, other times slow and heavy, making her body sway slightly and her muscles contract, quivering. Raven knew what she would receive, that she would be given five blows for every birthday that she had had. It took forty five minutes to complete her paddling. By the end of it, Raven could feel her buttocks burning from the paddle’s sting, and her arms ached from being suspended. She also realized, as a drop of liquid ran down the inside of her leg, that she was very aroused.

The Artist wiped the paddle, and replaced it in its cloth bag. Once again he walked around Raven, and then he placed a hand between her legs, feeling the wetness there, stroking her moist folds. Raven tensed at the touch of his hand, knowing that this, this was why she had come here.

The Artist turned his head to CJ, who slid a tall stool out onto the floor, placing it behind Raven. The Artist began to undress, removing his shirt in plain view of his subject. CJ came up and helped him, carefully taking his clothes and folding them. He stood upright again, naked, his member becoming erect as Raven watched, wide-eyed.

CJ knelt beside Raven and released the leg irons. Her feet free, Raven kicked at the floor in relief. The Artist moved the stool closer to her and lifted her reddened buttocks up onto it. She felt her shoulders relax for the first time in an hour, then felt her arms jerk upwards again as the rope was adjusted. The Artist put his hands on her legs, spreading them apart, and slid the stool towards him. Raven felt herself being tipped backwards, her arms outstretched above her.

He penetrated her in a single long slow stroke. She was so wet, so aroused that she accepted him without protest from her body or her mind. His cock filled her, and she felt herself grip around it as he thrust into her.

He moved deliberately, fucking her steadily. Her legs splayed open, giving him easy access, and his rhythm was long, regular and deep. Raven felt herself gasp at each penetration, feeling him become part of her. She also felt her arousal growing as he reached between them with his fingers, his middle finger circling and teasing her clitoris.

Raven bit her lip as she hung on her arms, impaled by this man. She could feel an orgasm rising in her body, starting like a distant wave on the horizon. She could feel it coming, and the light of the fire, the strain on her arms, the sound of his breathing, the smell of their bodies together, and the taste of her own sweat on her tongue all melded together as the passion coursed through her. Her body stiffened as she came, and she groaned as she gripped him in her climax. His rhythm slowed momentarily, and then he began again, a little faster and harder than before. Raven could immediately feel herself building again, and knew that she would have another orgasm, greater than before.

Out of the corner of her eye she notice a flickering, a motion. It was CJ, now nude and carrying a lit candle. She approached the two as they copulated, with Raven balanced on the stool. Raven felt her head falling back as she let the pleasure start to overwhelm her, then looked up for a moment, wondering what CJ was doing there.

The Artist nodded at CJ, who lifted the candle up and held it over Raven’s breasts. As he fucked her, as he stroked in and out of her, CJ tilted the candle, allowing hot wax to drip onto Raven’s nipples. With exquisite timing, each drop hit her tender and erect buds just as his penetration reached its deepest.

Raven screamed. She had meant to stay quiet, to take each new torment with stoicism, to show this man, the Artist, that she was strong. She knew she could take the pain, but it was the pain mixed with the pleasure that surprised her and caused her to cry out. The pain amplified the pleasure and the pleasure amplified the pain, each crest and valley higher than before. She heard herself screaming as he came inside her, his seed filling her, her cunt gripping him and milking him. Her orgasm peaked in a shuddering crash, pulsing through her for long moments, and as he withdrew from her, she felt supersensitive, her entire body afire.

He pulled on the rope, releasing her arms. She collapsed, and he caught her, picking her up bodily and carrying her to a bed in the corner of the room. CJ brought a warm basin of water, then withdrew, leaving them alone together.

He washed her gently, wiping her with the soft moist cloth, checking her for wounds. He cleansed her breasts and nipples of the hardened drops of wax, and he wiped the fluids from between her legs. With a fresh cloth he wiped her face, then bent and kissed her gently on the lips.

“Sweet Raven,” he said, “You have taken your first step, and I am proud of you. You have done very well. There will be other torments, other tests which you will be put to, and at times you will struggle, but today, today you are Mine. You may sleep now Raven, you are safe here. When you awaken there will be food and drink for you, and fresh new clothes to wear. Welcome, my dear, to My world.”

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