Running the Gauntlet was once a way to punish soldiers or prisoners of war by having them run between two rows of other soldiers who would strike, spit, beat, trip then in their run. If the accused made it to the end of the line still alive, he may be granited his freedom or welcomed into their society. For my Love, this was her Running of the Gauntlet. Obviously, she would not be given her freedom (unless she wanted it!), but she will be welcomed into our society of Masters/Mistresses and their Slaves/Submissives.
The guest had formed, more or less, two lines. I held my Love’s elbow, helping her to navigate to the front of the room (she was still blinfolded). I kissed her cheek, whispered, “Subdue your fear,” and gave her a little push. She stumbled on her heels, but q
uickly adjusted her stance and stepped bravely forward, her shoulders high, but trembling slightly. The gauntlet could take hours to complete. Each and every guest (again, all of whom had been carefully vetted) could touch, prod, fuck, spank, clip, or use my Love in anyway they chose – or at least that’s what she thought. I, naturally, had preapproved of everything that would be done this night and would be keeping careful watch over my Love. Part of her fear came from the unknown. Part of her acceptance into this community would be her unconditional trust in me. First, she came to Madame Z, a tall woman with a wicked sense of irony. She placed a hand on Love’s shoulder to stop her walk. Then, she positioned Love’s arms out to the side. With very sharp scissors, Madame Z made short work of Love’s dress. Then, she clipped two clothespins on the very tips of Love’s tight, unusually large nipples, slapped her on the ass and sent heron her way. Love had gasped when the rough wood had pinched her sensitive buds, but had not jerked away or raised her hands. Good girl. I knew for a fact that Love’s nipples were one of her most sensitive areas. The poor woman must be in agony, but I could smell her arousal as well, so she also in bliss.
Next, she came to Master J who promptly grabbed a handful of her hair and bent her over a dark brown leather soft. Quickly, he snapped a pair of handcuffs on her drawn back wrists. He then administered a hearty spanking which had tears dampening the blindfold and new serge of wetness dampening Love’s thighs. He glanced at me and when I nodded, he stood behind her with his cock at full staff and impaled her. Love cried out in surprise, but to my immense pleasure, did not pull away or speak. Master J kept a firm grip on her hair and when he was ready, pulled out spraying her freshly tanned backside with his seed.
At this point I took over. Rather than crying out at this new invasion into her dripping puss, Love sighed. Obviously, she knows her Master. I leaned over her and asked, “Are we still at green? Are you still okay?”
Yes. It was time for a reward. I reached over the couch, pulling the clothes pins from her nipples and she exploded, coming all over my cock which was not only buried deep inside of her, but pumping my own cum into her.