Twenty Tones of Red

By Pauline Montford

Deeply intense, erotic and romantic, Twenty Tones of Red is a novel that takes you on a journey into the heart of a woman’s submissive sexuality.

Siobhan is a bright, sassy and beautiful young woman, who has always had wild fantasies of being tied and dominated, and matures to realize that with the right lover she can find total fulfillment. Unfortunately the path of true love doesn’t run smooth, and she has to overcome obstacles and wrestle with her fears and insecurities in order to become her real self and find her true 'master'.
The story of how she reaches total sexual and romantic bliss will captivate, exhilarate and intoxicate you.

The novel contains fully graphic scenes of x-rated BDSM sex, and is not for the easily offended.

‘Twenty Tones of Red details Siobhan's training as a sexual slave, and is smokin' hot! Full of romance, hot sex and BDSM. if you have the fantasy of being a Master's sexual slave. This one is a must read, I loved it!’

• Language: English
• Publisher: Pauline Montford
• Release date: Apr 18, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310465390

Pauline Montford

I began writing at school. I wrote short stories all the way through my career as a teacher and then landscape gardener. I now divide my time between gardening and working on erotic or intensely romantic novels. I am personally interested in BDSM and interested in hearing from other women who find the topic exciting and stimulating!

Book preview

Twenty Tones of Red

Pauline Montford

©Pauline Montford 2013

Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind.

William Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night’s Dream

Contents;

one; a night on display

two; the first hot pulses

three; moving through the boundaries

four; playing with David

five; the tall, dark, handsome stranger

six; just a weekend away

seven; set adrift

eight; so lonely

nine; a new start

ten; the dominatrix

eleven; fun

twelve; moving in

thirteen; harder, deeper, longer

fourteen; a permanent marker

fifteen; forever

Chapter One

A Night on Display

She was kneeling on the floor of a balcony outside a nightclub in South London with her naked breasts pushed forward as sexily as possible, and her head bowed in submission. It was sometime between midnight and one a.m., but she didn’t know the exact time because she didn’t need to know, and she wasn’t meant to know. The only things she had to concentrate on, were pleasing and obeying.

She had passed a threshold in her life. Her thighs and buttocks were burning because her master and long-term boyfriend had just tied her to a bench and beaten her in a room full of strangers. Her corporal punishment had lasted a good thirty minutes or so, and he’d then led her outside to the rooftop bar and made her lower herself to the ground.

After positioning her like a slave, her owner had opened her blouse and spread her legs as wide as possible. Although her long, silky, red hair was covering most of her chest, she was acutely aware that anyone sitting at the wooden tables in front of her only had to look in her direction to get a perfect view of her naked sex.

The humiliation of her situation, and the memory of her recent punishment, were keeping her in a state of constant arousal. The burning of her buttocks was matched by a throbbing, excited heat that was pulsing hard in her crotch. At that exact moment she had never been quite so exposed, or so submissive, and, beneath her mask of silent humility, she was loving every second of it.

She and David had taken some time to build up to their big, fetish club night, but once they’d agreed it was something they wanted to do, they’d approached the event with a considerable degree of ceremony. Just a few hours before setting out, they’d prepared a delicious meal of baked hake and roasted potatoes, and washed it down with an expensive bottle of Chablis. They’d finished their dinner with a soft, warm, chocolate brownie that had been baked with a few sprinkles of hash.

Once dressed, they’d left the house together and sat holding hands in the taxi. He was wearing leather trousers and a white fitted dress shirt, and she was dressed all in black under her long coat. Her blouse was thin and sheer, and left absolutely nothing to the imagination. She wore seemed stockings on her legs that ended in a pair of outrageous, four inch heels. Her modesty was protected by a short, pleated skirt that came only a few inches down her thighs, and did little to conceal the fact that she was wearing no underwear.

The downstairs of the big night club was just a ticket office and cloakroom.

Once they’d paid, she went to a booth to hand over her outer layer. Taking off the coat was a strange but titillating experience. Suddenly she was virtually topless in a public place. Worse than topless. This wasn’t the natural nudity of a beach or changing room. Her outfit was designed to subtly expose her high, rounded breasts and excited nipples whilst also announcing her sexual status to the assembled company of bondage and domination enthusiasts.

Her role as a submissive was then made even clearer when David took a steel chain from his pocket and clipped it onto her collar.

As master and slave, they left the lobby and mounted the steps with her trailing behind him, her arms held behind her back and her head bowed obediently. Walking wasn’t easy. She had to concentrate on placing her feet carefully to make sure that she kept her balance in her obscenely high shoes.

Her master fell silent and she had a good idea why. This was his big entrance. This was the moment that he was going to show his sexual property to the world and soak up the respect and admiration of other dominants. In some ways it was similar to a dressage event or dog show. The owners got their kudos from the behaviour of their charges. The relationship was symbiotic; each drew energy and balance from the other. Neither could be complete without their opposite partner, and that was why she loved it.

At the top of the steps they paused for a moment and she caught a brief view of a small bar in front of them and a dark corridor leading off both left and right. Her master led her quickly up to the counter and ordered a vodka on ice for himself and a dry white wine for her.

They didn’t speak during the short break and she realised that David was using the time to relax and absorb the atmosphere of their surroundings.

The couples passing them were all either whispering or giggling, and it gave the club a subtle buzz of energy; a sense of anticipation and of secretly-planned naughtiness.

Her lover drank quickly, and she swigged back her last few gulps in order not to delay him. When their glasses were empty, he put them on the counter and led her deeper into the building.

The heavily-chilled wine curled cold around her stomach as she hobbled forward on her high heels and she started to feel floaty and dreamy. After a few steps a light breeze swept in from the open doorway and brushed between her legs. She felt her nipples stiffen and excitement begin to blossom somewhere deep in her core.

David led her on a fast tour of the club, but she saw very little, as she dared risk only the quickest of stolen glances as they entered each of the large, dark spaces.

The first room was the biggest. There were people all around them, and she guessed from the type of music and the way the feet were pointing in one direction, that there was a stage at one end with some sort of show on it. She never got to see it though. Her master decided to move on and took her through some swing doors into a narrow corridor. Cold air and the sweet smell of cigarettes wafted down from the right and she guessed that there were passing an open-air smoking area.

Her lover paused a few steps later and addressed someone he knew. Hi Jimmy mate. How you doing?

The other man answered and she guessed that it was one of his friends from the scene. But it wasn’t someone she knew, as she didn’t recognise the low gruff voice and strong cockney accent.

The two males exchanged a few pleasantries, then the stranger made a single appreciative comment. Nice.

It was clear that this man was studying her. Maybe it was the cool draught, or the sudden hit of the speedily-drunk wine hitting her blood stream, but a shiver rose from the base of her spine and she felt her whole body flush with blood. Being examined while she stood with her head bowed on a collar and chain was outrageously humiliating and yet strangely arousing. The fact that her nipples were proudly rubbing at her thin transparent blouse only served to make it even more exposing.

After several long glorious seconds, the stranger spoke again. So who’s this then Dave?

Ah, this is my love. This is Siobhan. Say hello Siobhan.

She glanced up and looked the stranger in the eyes. Wow! How did such a stunningly handsome man have such an uncivilised voice? She quickly lowered her gaze then addressed him in her most husky coquettish voice. Hello....

They had never discussed how she was supposed to address other men when she was a slave. Her mind started to run through hundreds of options, and in the end the combination of the alcohol reaching her brain in full force and the thought of the charismatic man staring at her barely concealed breasts excited her so much that she added a single submissive word. ...sir.

While the two men continued their casual chat, she stood with her head bowed and replayed the image of the stranger standing in front of her. He was dressed simply but elegantly in flat-fronted formal trousers and white linen shirt. His body seemed to be impressively muscular and fit, but best of all was his gorgeous symmetrical face and the chiselled jaw, that had more than a subtle hint of George Clooney about it. She hadn’t really thought much about what the other clubbers would be like, but if most of the males were as sexy and good looking as this one then she couldn’t wait to meet more of them and subtly watch them admiring her nearly-naked body.

The men finished their brief exchange, and with a gentle tug on her collar chain she was lead deeper into the big nightclub.

They brushed past a wide range of people as they made their way through the winding corridors and she was impressed by the variety of characters and costumes she saw. Outrageous leather boots and high heels clicked past her, some in seamed stockings, some in skin-tight leggings and some in jodhpurs and riding boots. At one point she was moved back against the rough brick wall to allow a man to crawl past on all fours; his face hidden behind a dog mask, his hands and feet strapped into leather pads.

They slowed and approached a doorway. She saw lots of legs clustered around a curtain and sensed a real tension in the air. There was definitely something special going on inside, and she was curious to find out what.

David pushed his way through the crowd and when her thighs and shoulders brushed against the waiting men she felt a frisson of excitement on her skin.

Inside, the atmosphere was hushed and buzzing with a barely-contained energy. She was unable to lift her head high enough to find out what was going on in front of her, but then she heard the unmistakable sound of a hand hitting someone’s backside and guessed that they were in the punishment room.

Can we go next? her master asked.

Adrenalin pulsed through her as she realised that they were in a queue to use some sort of apparatus. She obediently kept her gaze fixed on the floor just in front of her feet and waited. She wanted to be the best slave she could be and was driven by pride to be totally obedient, dedicated and serious.

All yours mate.

Somebody had given her master permission to move forward, and it was now their turn.

Her legs were shaking as she was moved to the front. There was a wooden horse, like the ones used to support trestle tables, covered in red velvet. She allowed herself to be bent over, and watched while her lover carefully pulled the chain that was attached to her neck and tied it to a ring in the floor. Next he pulled her wrists down into Velcro cuffs that were tied to the bottom of the legs. She was left bent over the contraption, and was delightfully aware that her skirt was riding high on her buttocks. Everyone in the back of the room, and all those crowding around the door, now had a clear view of her bum and the crease of her naked sex.

David moved to her side and she felt his strong arms tug on her ankles. She obediently allowed him to pull legs right to the very edge of the horse where he tied them in place with thick soft rope.

She was pulled as wide as she could go and was left savouring the sensation as her buttocks and sex were gently pulled apart and left open in a gorgeously vulnerable way. Blood was pumping everywhere. She was bent sharply and her long red hair was dangling on the floor in front of her. Her limbs were securely tied and the velvet-covered wood was pressing tight against her belly. Perhaps that was what was making her breathless. Perhaps that, and the fact that she was now living inside one of her favourite fantasies. She was the naked maiden strung out for all to see, and, even better, if her suspicions were correct she was soon going to receive a public beating.

Her master played the next few minutes well. An amateur would have rushed things, but once he was completely happy with her bondage, he stepped back and took some time to savour her position.

She waited, helplessly immobile and tingling with anticipation, until he came back to her and finished his preparations. When he next touched her it was to lift her skirt and tuck it into her waistband.

Her entire backside was exposed to the crowd at the back of the room. The men would be aroused, and the thought of their lust set a heat pulsing deep inside her. She was aware that she was wet and hoped that the light in the room was sufficient to reveal her glistening lips.

David’s voice reached her in a murmur and she realised that he was engaged in a conversation. In a bid to draw even more attention to herself she wriggled her belly against the crossbar, she wanted the beating, but she wanted to be touched and teased even more. She tried to lift herself onto her tiptoes to see if she could create some pressure against her crotch, but had no luck. The bonds on her ankles were tight and un-giving and her straining was completely futile.

As all good masters should, David sensed her rising excitement and moved up to lay a warm hand on her buttocks. The skin on skin contact felt fantastic, and she pushed back against his palm, squirming and writhing as much as she could.

She was wanton, flushed and wet and she wanted to be touched and teased. She would have shouted it out if she’d been asked. She didn’t care. Right there, bound and exposed to a room of strangers in a South London nightclub, she felt she’d finally become free. This is what I’ve always craved, she wanted to say. I used to think about this when I touched myself as a teenager. This is what I am, this is what turns me on, and I’m a grown woman in a loving, long term relationship and finally my man is going to do exactly what I want him to do.

David was still taking his time and she was glad. The tease was part of the ritual. As much as she wanted some immediate attention, she also wanted to wait. Being caught in perfectly-balanced indecision was part of the thrill, and it was all helping to send her mind into the dreamy seductive state known as subspace.

A few moments later his hand started to move in gentle circles over her taut buttocks, then he leaned closer and started to speak to her. You ready for your beating slave?

She bucked her hips against his caress. Yes master. Please beat me, because I’ve been very very bad. Her answer was loaded with code. She’d used the word ‘very’ twice, and this was her way of saying that she wanted a long and severe beating. She wanted to eliminate any doubts he had about going full force. Of course this could be because she was horny and tipsy. Things might change as soon as the pain started.

He lifted his hand from her bum then replaced it in gentle slaps. I think because you’ve been so bad you might need several different types of punishment.

Yes master. She was so desperate for the sting of pain that she’d have agreed to anything just then. Anything as long as it started soon.

As if reading her mind, he replied with a single word. Good.

The first strike came down with a delicious burning sting and he followed it with another and another. After starting quite weakly, he built up the force of his palm on her buttocks until after just twenty strokes a fire was burning on the surface of her pale skin. It grew slowly at first, but when his hand started to find the same place again and again one flush of blood added to another and the heat strengthened into a long, prolonged stinging.

With each blow she let out short little gasps and wriggled and twisted against her bonds. The fire wasn’t just burning on her backside and the top of her thighs, there was also an intense heat simmering between her legs.

With her eyes screwed tight-closed, a strong, clear image formed in her mind. She could see herself from behind, her long, shapely legs braced wide against the wooden frame, her outrageous heels keeping her calf muscles straining and defined in the black silk stockings. The black hosiery ended with the dark band at the top of her thighs, and here it became obscene. Her pale freckled thighs curved seamlessly into the smooth rounding of her buttocks. Her behind was sticking out provocatively, her cheeks pulled apart by the relentless tension on her widespread ankles. She was wickedly and shamelessly exposed. Everyone standing in the doorway could see her and, perhaps if she was honest with herself, some of her restless wriggling and struggling was to make sure that they kept watching.

The heat on her skin had built to an almost unbearable intensity, when David stopped and stepped away from her. Her backside tingled in the cool night air and the burning slowly faded to a warm glow. Her immediate feeling was one of relief, but that was soon followed by disappointment. The spanking was at least a form of touch. To be spread out helpless but uncaressed was the worst torture of all.

Her hair was hanging over her face, with some strands sticking to the thin layer of sweat on her forehead. She heard a murmur of voices but couldn’t catch the words. With her heart beating fast and her own pulse throbbing in her ears it was difficult to catch what was being said. Straining as hard as she could, she heard David say ‘next’ then heard another male use the phrase ‘no hurry’.

Something tickled her bum cheeks and she shivered. It seemed that the discussion behind her had come to a satisfactory conclusion, because the strands of a whip were being trailed up and down her buttocks. Her heart leapt as she realised that she was being warned to prepare for stage two with the traditional introductory caress of the new torture implement.

After just a few seconds, the flogger was pulled back and she braced in anticipation. She waited and waited and, just as she was considering opening her eyes and twisting to try to get a view of what was happening, it started.

The sound came first. There was a satisfying thwack as the twenty or so individual rubber threads hit her skin, and then came the pain. Unlike the slap of a hand, this burst like fireworks in multiple places at once. The ends of the tassels each found a different point across her exposed backside. Most were across the broad curve of her buttocks, but some had found their way down her thighs, and a handful had twisted up into the intimate places between her legs.

She let out a long hiss of air and was struck again. The stinging explosions broke out all over and she felt her mouth open, her lungs gasping for breath. The rhythm got faster, the blows a little stronger, and one burst of pain blurred into another, then another.

Hands stroked her cheek and she opened her eyes to see David crouching in front of her. You enjoying this slave?

She nodded, delighted to see her lover so close to her and touching her so tenderly. An instant later she realised that he wasn’t only there to look into her eyes but also to make sure that she realised that he’d handed her punishment over to another. Someone else was now beating her, and the thought of being whipped by a complete stranger was far more exciting than she’d imagined.

While her mind was running through the possibilities of who might be standing behind her wielding the whip, she remembered she’d been asked a question and replied. Yes master.

You deserved this beating didn’t you? While he was talking to her the rain of lashings continued and she spoke through narrowed eyes and a clenched jaw. Yes master. I was very bad.

She smiled inwardly. Her script wasn’t difficult and that helped. She didn’t want to make demanding and difficult conversation. She wanted her mind free to focus on her predicament. She wanted to drift into the sexy, dreamlike state known as subspace where time melted away and there was only her sexual desire and the messages of her senses.

As if sensing her need for solitude and silence, David shuffled back and cocked his head, his face soft but full of mischief. I might go and have a little stroll around. He leaned forward and planted a series of kisses on her upturned face. There’s a queue back there waiting to give you your punishment. That’s okay isn’t it?

This was her moment to complain if she wanted to. Just one word and he would untie her and take her back to the safety of their own little flat. But it wasn’t a difficult decision, not only did she want the beating to continue, she also wanted to know what else the night held for her. Yes master. she replied. I deserve the beating. Thank you sir. The voice was not quite her own.

Time became blurred. She was beaten with a number of different implements by what she guessed was a number of different people. At one stage she heard a woman’s voice behind her and was interested to note that she was almost as turned on by the attention of a female as she was by a male.

Her guest torturers were, by and large, a gentle group. None were as firm as David. They seemed to explore her skin with their whips and paddles rather than actually try to inflict pain, and this was fine with her. The experience was still highly erotic; being so helplessly exposed and so tightly bound in a room full of strangers kept her skin tingling and blood pumping.

She started to fantasize about the crowd at the back of the room taking advantage of her. She visualised a line of erect men waiting to take their turn and, although outrageous and obscene, she let the idea build and build. The scenario got filthier and filthier in her mind, and she soon substituted the blows of the whip for the thrusts of well endowed, muscular admirers.

Finally her master returned. She guessed that fifteen minutes or so had passed, but she was ready for a change and was glad when he kissed her and untied her bonds.

He gave her no time to forget her place, instantly reminding her to bow her head, then taking the chain that hung from her collar and leading her quickly from the room.

He took her down a wide corridor towards the sound of pumping house music. She saw coloured lights flashing on the ground and they moved into a dance floor area. She caught glimpses of high heels swivelling in the flashing lights as clubbers danced around them, and as she moved through the crowd she felt eyes on her, and knew she was on display again.

The tension on her chain slackened as David moved her to the far side and found an empty bench where he sat and stretched out his legs. Pulling her a little closer he held her hips and turned her to face the DJ.

The music was incredibly loud, the thumping bass hitting her body with real physical force. David rolled up her skirt and thrust it into her waistband, then unbuttoned her blouse and pulled it open. She was exposed to the whole room. Her thin triangle of red pubic hair and her intimate curves open to view above her stocking tops. She could feel moisture drying on her thighs; her own wetness betraying her reaction to her whipping.

A slap stung her backside and she jolted. David was spanking her again, slowly but with real force. Dance! he said forcefully, Come on slave, dance!

She understood, and immediately started moving, wriggling her hips and swivelling her feet to the pounding insistent beat. She didn’t dance as she would have done if she was her ‘real’ self out enjoying a party. She moved like a stripper, focussing on gyrating her hips and belly in a languid, provocative way.

It was supposed to be humiliating but it wasn’t. Being forced to dance sluttishly freed her from her inhibitions, and whenever she could, she flicked her eyes around the room and caught both men and women watching her admiringly. She’d always loved being the centre of attention, but it was something that she’d carefully played down to avoid getting a reputation as a show off. She’d helped out in amateur fashion shows at university and found striding down a catwalk in skimpy clothes incredibly exciting. Now that she was collared and chained and shimmying naked in a crowd she got even more of a buzz. She could feel lustful eyes admiring her, and she loved it.

As she moved her lover slapped her backside with relentless precision. Her tenderised skin quickly started to burn and her cheeks became flushed again. She had no idea how many people were watching, or whether she’d become the main attraction on the dance floor, but the whole situation was deeply erotic. She had become an object. Her dancing was to titillate her master and the other clubbers.

She lost track of the time she spent on display, but, just as she was getting uncomfortably hot and breathless, her master decided to move on. He must have felt the need for a cigarette break, because it was then that he led her out to the smoking area on the balcony. There was to be no rest for her. He kept her in role, and when he’d found an empty space, ordered her onto the floor near his feet.

She knelt on the wooden decking while