Well here we are she thought, waiting for him, she looked out the window onto the mountain, peaceful and quiet for now. Always a challenge this one, but always fun. It was worth the takedown with him, to get to that pure surrender, a lot of work and well worth it. With that she took the last sip of wine, setting the glass near the counter’s edge and put some music on, and began to get ready.
It was always like a ritual, fingers slipping over all her different clothes, and with a knowing smile tonight was not about sweet and lace, tonight was about rob.. the very first thing she did was take out her boots and place them on her dresser. God he loved those, and she adored the fascination he had with them. Clean, dirty, didn’t matter he always got excited and always had a willing mouth.. along with everything else.
She let her long hair down with a shake, a quick glance in the mirror and even she saw how excited and sparkling her eyes were… oh he was in trouble tonight, and with that she threw her head back with a hearty laugh. Distracted, no longer going through the clothes she began to go through toys.. . canes out against the wall, floggers laid out on the table, rope and cuffs and leather binders all finding their place. Adding a new leather strap.. this one special, it wrapped over her boot with room for the dildo so she could wear these boots he so adored and foot fuck him, face down onto the carpet, ass high and marked in the air.. yep tonight was going to be fun.. wait till he sees this she thought. And yet there was more.
She looked towards the closet, a big shopping bag dropped off by her trainer friend, a full smile covered her face knowing she had a few surprises for the brat tonight. She loved the fact that he played hard, it just brought out the best in them both. Pushing each other, daring out that inner beast.. she loved the look in his eyes when she had him.. down, owned, taken.. tonight was going to be big fun.
Opening yet another drawer, she threw the strap-on onto the bed next to the shopping bag.. special, tonight was going to be very special. And with a glance, she looked at the clock, time to stop dreaming and get ready.
She never dressed in any order, oddly enough the things that made her feel a certain way went on first.. sitting on the edge of the bed as she put on her thigh highs.. and then with a twinkle of her emerald eyes, stepped into her boots, zipping them up as she wriggled her foot getting comfortable. She only wore these on occasion. They weren’t clean she thought with a smile and they will be soon. Basically naked she stood before the mirror. At last adding a leather thong, leather corset with studs.. her fighting gear she thought with a laugh. Some red lipstick, she knew she looked good.
She waited for his arrival- first time visiting her at her retreat, high up in the mountains, no one around anywhere she thought with a grin. Music on, dressed, candles lit, one last walk around when she heard the car drive up and a swift knock at the door. She didn’t answer, instead of throwing from the upper window cuffs and collar with one single word “Strip”. She caught his eyes as they shot up at her… one, two, three seconds passed as she finally said.. “Is that a no?” Immediately he began removing clothing when she yelled back .. “Leave the boots on” and laughed out loud.
He was beginning to sense her mood, was a bit weary but his excitement was obvious… nothing nice tonight.
Finally he appeared at the bottom of the stairs and all he could do was look up, and when he did, his eyes first locked on her boots, those boots, then slowly up her leather-clad body till their eyes locked. He was beginning to swell with excitement, no hiding anything now. Naked, cuffed and hard.. and yes, she liked him just like that, as he was now accustomed to be. Descending the stairs slowly, his eyes flickered back to those damn boots. She had all she could do to not smile, she felt so damn good.. and so very ready.
“Knees” was all she barked out, and he dropped quick.. he had an ever-growing place in her heart, but that was for another time. Tonight they were bull and bullfighter, she made herself laugh, if he only knew what they did to the bull’s balls.. ha.. go figure.
Reaching him she kicked his legs wide apart, one leg with the boot tip, the other full foot on. She wrapped her gloved hand into his hair and yanked his head back hard as her right hand struck from nowhere slamming into his cheek, leaning forward her breath hot, sweet, close to his lips, she sucked in his bottom lip and bit down hard. That bitter coppery taste filled into her mouth, the scent filling her.. she had drawn first blood. When he went to kiss her she slapped him again hard. Noting the change in his eyes.. the resolve, that.. that, certain look. It was on.
“Evening Mistress, I am here to serve as you wish” he muttered. “Are you rob, are you truly here for how “I” wish?”. .. then she continued, tonight is consensual, nonconsensual play”… “shit” was all she remembered him mutter, yet when she looked back down at him.. hard as a rock, she just laughed. And with that simple exchange, began the evening.
Hand still wrapped into his hair, she dragged him into the back room, leaving him crawling, scrambling to find his footing to barely keep up with her. It was all dark, except the back brick wall was lit. She stood him there, about 2 feet from the wall with a sharp “Don’t move.” being the only spoken words.
She began to circle him, slowly.. a pinch here, a tug there, a punch and tug as if she was inspecting him. Pressing up against his back, her full breasts in spikey studs digging into his back, but he only leaned back against her more. Her breath was hot on his neck and shoulders, biting into him, teeth sinking into his neck, shoulders, arms.. and the hardest bite on his cute tush. Leaving the first of many marks to come his way that night.
She walked around to face him, their eyes locked yet again, fire in each.. the beast was out in them both. She lifted her hands slapping hard open-handed onto his chest. He barely staggered and kept his gaze. Over and over the hits got harder, chest reddening, breath hard and quick, yet he barely blinked, almost puffing out his chest for the next blow, which he gladly got.
She was short, yet solid and finally a closed fist double blow threw him back to the wall, as he tried to catch his step, one quick knee to his groin just about made him slump against the cold brick. She watched him fight to catch his breath, eyes watering but always so tenacious she thought. Finally, he corrected himself and stood again, as before off the wall. She slammed her hands against him, throwing him back, practically bouncing him off the wall, over and over, yet he came back up to her, and the fucker dared to laugh.
One quick punch to the face and kick to his balls sent him reeling back, and slumping down.. again their eyes were locked, she stepped forward, her foot over his cock and balls. Her foot lowered, touching, rubbing, and slowly pressing as he held her gaze.. “Who are these?”.. “Your Ma’am”.. absolutely right boy she said aloud. She continued to assert more pressure, feeling the flesh flatten underfoot and slapped him hard yet again. With that, she saw some color.. nice.. very nice.
Putting her full weight and then pulling him forward to his knees while he caught his breath, she pressed up against him, her scent filling as there was no doubt of her excitement. She felt his hand reach out, and travel up from her ankle when she froze “ Who told you to touch?”. She kicked hard, the blow forcing him back, laid him out onto his back. He tried to curl, protecting himself, and with one threatening look, as much as he wanted, he relented with a shiver, laying back as she kicked his legs wide apart and spread eagle. Sharp kicks to his inner thighs brought colorfast. She looked at him carefully, noting that by now he had found his happy place.
She attached a long cold chain leash and without even looking back dragged him from the house into her meadow.. laying him out against a large rock that stood on edge on her property.. besides the rock was a bag, one he hadn’t noticed before, and she removed her leather gloves, stuffing them into his mouth, not for quiet but for effect. In the bag was a pair of training gloves.. small boxing gloves a friend had leaned her earlier.. she put them on, taking a jab at him to see how it felt, he moaned loud into the muffle of leather.
She began to work at his body, shots to his face, chest.. a hard blow to his side making him double over as she had a quick upper jab, too bad he didn’t know what she did in her spare time .. any time he dared moved, she pushed back against the rock.. no toys tonight just her hands. His lip was swollen, but there he was, tall, beautiful and defiant. She worked him over until he finally fell to his knees.. she removed the gloves.. her hands now tender to his flesh, rubbing over swells and marks. She headed to the house with a quick look over her shoulder and a “Don’t move” was all she spoke.
From the kitchen she could see him, barely moving, but rubbing parts of his body, with a smile she knew he was sore.. she emerged drinking some water and looked at him in the moonlight. Beautiful he was, he leaned forward towards her, and one kick took him to the ground reeling yet again. “Who told you to move?” he tried to crawl but now we were in the woods, she picked up a switch,, nothing more then, a young branch and methodically worked him over, following him as he tried to crawl, tried to tell her that he needed a break, but she knew him all too well. The marks were beautiful, fresh stripes over the bruises, and what she couldn’t whip she kicked. For every defiant look or movement came a barrage of action, quick, flurry like, not giving him time to think.
Finally, panting he looked to her.. a single tear trailed down his cheek, and only then did she know she had him, surrendered, hers. “Ground” was the order barked and he laid quickly over the brush, moans and whimpers as she stood straddling over his face, her boots, the ones he loved literally on his hair.. “who owns you rob”, she stared down, both breathing hard, and she finally got a “you do M’lady” … she lifted her foot and placed it onto his face, heel against his mouth, toe against his forehead.. “You are literally under My feet rob, never forget”. She stepped hard holding him down, low, into his place. Eventually straddling over him, pale eyes looking deep into who he was as she lifted her skirt, golden drops marking the already marked body, as always he took this gladly.
At long last pulled him up and headed back into the house.. far from over.. but the surrender had been won.
I’m interested in knowing if any of you out there are satisfied after a scene if there is no vanilla style sex involved? I’m keen to act out a scene like this but finding it trickier than expected to find a willing Sadist (i.e.: willing to inflict pain but not have it lead to sex) Is there such a thing as a “true” Sadist and a “true” masochist where the pain exchange takes the place of sex completely?
Whether or not sex is involved is not an indication of “true” SM – some include it, some don’t. The question is not offensive, by the way … just drop the idea of “true” or “pure” and you have it.
In the US, it’s easy to find non-sexual encounters at local dungeons and parties sponsored by various groups. Many are held in places where public sex is against the law, so SM scenes are just the kinky fun stuff without sex happening.
However, when you are negotiating play with a top or sadist, be clear that sex is off the table. Do not agree to penetration … or even no genital stimulation. You can specify no kissing or licking also. You get to set the parameters for what you will allow.
The flip side is … they also get to set parameters, and they do not have to agree to play with you if your limits keep them from being able to do what turns them on.
For example, if you have a hard limit against bullwhips, don’t ask a sadist who specializes in bullwhips to play with you, because you don’t want to allow what they want to do.
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As for the sex part … I don’t need “vanilla style” sex after a scene. I have orgasms from the pain … it’s really awesome for me to be getting caned and having several orgasms from it. After the “scene” is done, if we are in private, then often there is penetrative sex (which is what I think you are calling “vanilla sex” … but even then, it is far from vanilla.
But I would not really be able to have a totally sex free SM scene, because as the pain increases, so does my sexual response, and I will have orgasms. The higher the level of pain, the harder the orgasm.
My husband and I don’t have “vanilla” sex.
We have sex. SM and sex are all wrapped up into one thing for us.
When we are at a dungeon there cannot be sex. Dungeons really frown on him mounting up to fuck my ass while whipping me with the quirt.
When playing with others, there is no sexual intercourse at all. However, I love caning dude’s dicks. I’ve brought a couple of them pretty close to ejaculating. Guess what? That still wouldn’t be sex. There’s no penetration, no suckie, no fuckie, no fingers, no body parts involved at all on my part. I’m hitting dude with a stick.
I have been experiencing SM play with people without any sex involved. It can be incredibly satisfying. For me not necessarily because of an orgasm, but because of the other physical sensations and the mental aspects. Just make clear beforehand what you will and won’t accept. If the other person is not comfortable with what you want, they’re probably not a good partner to play with 😀
Most of my S&M scenes include nothing remotely sexual, and I have never done a scene that includes intercourse. I don’t do vanilla sex at all; it bores me.
I wonder if part of your difficulty in finding people to play with non-sexually is that you make clear (at least, on your profile here) that you’re looking for a boyfriend, and sex is an expectation, for most people, in that kind of relationship. If you’re looking for people for casual or regular play, rather than a romantic relationship, it would probably help to make that clear. Non-sexual play is much more common outside romantic relationships.
I am a heavy Masochist and sex has no place in play for me. I do not relate the two at the same time. When i am taking a beating my mind could not be farther away. I am in it strictly for the pain and trying to reach a level of satisfaction from it. I have never had an orgasm from pain. If i am doing self serve i can use pain to intensify the orgasm. A couple hours after the play i may become aroused but never during the play.
It’s very rare for me to orgasm from what most people deem ‘vanilla sex’. It’s fairly common for me to orgasm from causing pain to the right kind of person, and sometimes from receiving it. So I would say that bdsm is innately sexual for me, even though I’m not always interested in fucking the people whom I do it with. But there are, of course, lots of other lovely options between vanilla and BDSM.
At the moment all my scenes have contained some sexual actions (doesn’t have to, but my current partners prefer that). However, I don’t always get sexual stimulation. It could at times be just a simple blow job if that is what my partner wants. The pain in the scene is generally sufficient for me to feel the same gratification as after sexual stimulation of some sort.
When I came out of denial in 1993 my mentor made a point of teaching me that being in the moment whatever that moment had evolved to was most important and what was or was not happening is less important than maintaining levels of self-awareness, self-respect and yes control, control over self and control over whomever you’re topping.
When I was introduced to the local public/semi-public/private but the membership-based scene in 1998 there were a handful of basic rules at all the local clubs one of which was “there is no socializing in the playroom and no play in the social area” which generally was heavily implied that IF two or more playing together wanted to have penile/vaginal, oral, anal or other more or less vanilla sex as part of their BDSM play in the dungeon play area then they needed to ask all those present if it was okay first before doing so and I was always cool with that, no problem, common sense, simple common sense.
Now, many years later, suffering from among other things three major heart conditions but more importantly Type II diabetes which has numbed all the nerves below my waist completely out which means I’m now wheelchair-bound and also for the past three years or so haven’t been able to achieve even the slightest erection which sucks, pardon the inference pun, but it could be worse and it’s not like I don’t have a varied and interesting vanilla sex life or do other activities other than straight sexual congress that are smokin’ fookin’ hot, I do, indeed I do it’s just that my cock is no longer either the front office or back office center of my sexuality and quite frankly that takes a lot of pressure off my partners especially my newer ones because they know I’m not going to try to stick it in them while they’re floating in subspace and that increases trust all the way around.
Literally me. I am primarily a nonsexual kinkster. I’m going to be honest with you, it’s pretty damn difficult to find a willing partner to take sex out of the equation. So many (both vanilla and kinky) equate kink with sex. But that doesn’t have to be the case.
I have found play partners that will take sex out of the equation. One was my guy friend who’s like two years older than me. That was a stroke of luck finding him. We just realized we had the same interests on the opposite side of the spectrum (me as a sub/masochist, him as a dom/sadist). The scene was focused on pain and domination. But there was absolutely nothing sexual about it. I was clothed the whole time.
There’s also another person I may be doing a scene with soon that is a year younger than me. The scene will still have sexual elements in a sense (considering I will be naked) but nothing penetrative. It’ll be more focused on fear.
So like, it’s totally possible. Just harder to find. In my experience, that is.
Sex and play have in my experience, always gone hand in hand…until recently. I stopped everything (and I mean EVERYTHING) for a while now and have only recently played casually with friends. I miss the connection to be honest. I miss the intimacy of sex with play. It’s not that I CAN’T play without sex (and that is not naming vanilla or non-vanilla), I just feel the connection is missing without it. My friends are great but I don’t feel comfortable playing with them with any kind of sexual component and consequently stop play prematurely. Perhaps I need to change my POV, perhaps I’ll just stay like this for now.
I have rape/ravishment fantasies so it feels like there’s something lacking if a dom doesn’t play with the area between my legs. Besides, it feels weord calling it vanilla if I’m always fantasizing about resisting, crying or being sore from sexual penetration. The only time I do anything completely vanilla is with casual sex partners or new people, cause they’re strangers who I don’t trust that well. If there’s pain, I’m instinctively submissive. If not, I tend to be a bossy bottom.
I have come from pain. I’m not allowed to have conventional sex. My sex is pain or anal but she makes that hurt as well. In fact it’s some of the more intense pain I get. Honestly, I find being a pain slut more intimate and better than conventional sex. I have no desire to change how things are.
Sir and I can easily have scenes without sex. It depends on what we are doing and what he wants to do. We have scenes where it’s about pain and sex for me is a distraction and can take me away from the rush I get from the pain.
If we don’t have sex after a scene I love it the next morning – sleepy, covered in marks and sore.
i enjoy s&m with no sex afterward that day more than the two together,,, as a switch i find it best with no sex as it helps keep the horny feelings in check and focus on the beautiful feelings with pain, fear,, terror and control,, but saying than the odd cum may happen after all its the one in control who is boss!
My boyfriend and I have actually never had sex and we both leave entirely satisfied just from him inducing pain on me.
Another big thing we enjoy is the edging. I’m not too sure if that falls into the s&m category but he loves to do it to me and he also does it to himself. That obviously involves a bit more of a sexual aspect but it is something I personally would recommend!
A huge turn on for my boyfriend is to do things such as whipping, pussy slapping, biting and knife play until he has me begging him to have sex with me and then denying it. It is what I consider one of the best forms of torture be can inflict on me and I love every second of it!
I understand though. I am a very sensual masochist. I get sexual energy and pleasure from the torments my sadist gives me (and bondage is NOT one of those, thank god, as I find bondage to be totally boring! LOL)
I engage in SM because it is fun and sexy and exciting.
I do not engage in “BDSM” because that is just a clunky acronym to try to make “everything” fit under one label. Over the years, people have started to use the term BDSM instead of SM, because it doesn’t immediately bring up visions of whips and chains, and it doesn’t sound so scary. (What’s the point of that?)
How do you meet a sadist who doesn’t want to fuck you?
There are plenty of sadists who are not looking for an easy lay. But the issues isn’t always “doesn’t WANT to fuck you” but is willing to agree to not include sex as part of the scene. There does not have to be an expectation of sex as part of the scene.
One way to help insure that, is that as you seek various partners for “casual SM pick-up play” … stick to public venues. Most public dungeons and play parties prohibit sex, so if you arrange to play only in those venues, instead of privately, you can be pretty sure that sex is not going to be involved.
I think it has always taken my partners by surprise when I say I am fine with giving sexual pleasure and not receiving it in return, and with just receiving pain outside of a sexual encounter. I don’t mind being beaten outside of sex, I can usually be satisfied with just the pain. The sex is always good, and I don’t mind it, but I’m not necessarily looking for it when I’m craving pain.
Is there such a thing as a “true” Sadist and a “true” masochist where the pain exchange takes the place of sex completely?
I’m interested in knowing if any of you out there are satisfied after a scene if there is no vanilla style sex involved?
A “true” sadist and “true” masochist? I don’t believe that’s a thing….everyone is different, having said that though I don’t do “nilla” sex, it does nothing for me and never has. Once upon a time I would feel unfulfilled if I didn’t have sex after a beating but that’s changed over time and now the pain is more important to me. I find that pain can leave me a lot more satisfied than kinky sex, it’s more of a release for me…the only downsides to that is the intense craving for more of the same which is actually kind of aggravating but if I go without for any length of time I get terribly cranky :/ that’s why I married a sadist.
Without being redundant about the use of absolutes in your O.P., yes- I too am a sadistic service top who does not expect “extras” post scene. Most desired situations are possible in this, a consent culture, if you express your needs clearly (negotiate), vet thoroughly and patiently, and scene in a support environment (like a public play space with Dungeon Monitoring). There’s also volunteering for demo bottoming for presentations or classes in your local or neighboring community to catch a quick safer fix. To restate, sex isn’t a bartering chip or gratuity for scenes unless you desire and consent to it. It’s your choice.
lots of times we never had sex and both of us really enjoyed it and were quite satisfied. people need pain for all kinds of different reasons just to get through the day, week or whatever. I remember a long time ago I had a long-distance relationship and I couldn’t get there for a month and I give her permission to go get paddled but no sex. I think it is very common
I do quite a bit of training for masochists, subs and D/s couples in addition to my play partners. When you say “sex” I am assuming you mean penetration. It is rare for me to have “sex” in a training session since we focus on deepening or enhancing someone’s experience. Yes there can be orgasms but from other activities. From a personal perspective, I am always focused on the person in front of me for many reasons known to most, primarily safety. That leaves little time for me to gain physical satisfaction. Fact is most of my satisfaction is derived from the physical and emotional response of the masochist or sub. It is all about control.
Much the same with my play partners but there will be more of a “sex” component if only because I can anticipate their response since we have shared experience before and have more latitude as a result.
I do a lot of topping and service topping, sexual interaction is rarely a feature.
Either way it is always specifically negotiated. Sensual touching is often part but rarely ever with genitals or with orgasms as the goal.
Generally, unless you are my lover i have absolutely no interest in your pleasure.
With the right connection, sadism on its own will get me off.
I need to bottom sometimes, sex is very far away from that headspace when i let my masochist out. I get an entirely different satisfaction from it.
Emotional SM is another thing altogether.
I never play sexually. My play is done with very good friends, they are doing it because they like the stuff I can do (intensity/variety), and I love what they do to me. I also love that I trust them not to take things to a sexual level (my partner watches most of the time but not as a monitor) because we are all good friends. I react to pain in a way that is not sexual, it makes me complete.
I started off doing bdsm, with no sex involved so as for mixing it some times it really confuses my senses, i can go into a sub zone just from impact play, and don’t need the sex, nowadays i play with certain people who incorporate it into the play in different dynamics, so as to have forced orgasms, or being told not to cum, as for that its a power exchange thing, def not a man crawling on women cumming, well i think this whole world of bdsm, is unique to each person as they explore it also they find what they like and dont like, and honestly isnt it about consent, so if you have consent to say no sex, or you consent to sex, then do sex, explore and go deeper into s and m is a wonderful adventure.
I was thinking further about this thread and it occurred to me that there’s also an issue around what sex, if it happens, is for. That is, for some people, bdsm is clearly just a warm-up to vanilla fucking; but for me, if I fuck after bdsm, it’s not the conclusion of the event – that’s already happened and if things have gone to plan then all parties are already satisfied – but it’s a sort of epilogue, a chance to be intimate in a more overtly affectionate way. so I think there’s a difference between bdsm intended to lead to fucking and bdsm where fucking just happens to happen afterward, like a hug or, once upon a time, a cigarette.
I am pretty much always satisfied after my Dom and I play, and the sexual part of our relationship really has no direct relationship to play. In other words, he can spank me in the evening before he goes to bed and we may not have intercourse at all that night, and I would not feel incomplete without it. But, he almost always gives me at least a few orgasms by direct stimulation after we play once I recover from subspace. And there are times that we will have sex without doing a scene before or after.
I am rather accustomed to him giving me orgasms at certain times, so if we play before that time I will expect to be brought to orgasm afterward. But then again we may not play at all that evening (or morning).
As for the sex itself, being that I’ve never had a vanilla relationship, it is kind of hard to quantify as to whether it is fully vanilla. But I will say that all of our intimate relations have an over-arching element of D/s and so that would probably make it non-vanilla; at least the mental aspect.
Now if I am playing with someone else (I’ve only ever bottomed to my Dom thus far) I would not want any sexual contact simply because I don’t do casual sex. I’ve topped a couple of people in the past and had no desire for sexual contact with them and I was perfectly satisfied just by topping them. And if someone other than my Dom was to top me, again, I would not want there to be a sexual element. I would enjoy it for what it was and that would be that (though I would of course welcome my Dom giving me orgasms later on).
Sex is not essential for most. Vanilla sex, especially, often has little to do with sadism, or masochism. Sadism and masochism meaning one finds sexual gratification in inflicting or suffering through pain. Vanilla sex after an s&m scene, is sometimes seen as the “come down” in that it is the more “human” aspect.
My masochism is not tied to the act of sex.
I need not both, at the same time.
Of course, there are people that only want to inflict pain or have it inflicted upon them, and that is the entirety of their sexuality. But… “true” anything is a sweeping generalization… a perceived “standard” one must meet in order to lay claim to a lable or title. You can be a “true” sadist, or masochist, aaaaaand actually like other sex acts, kinks and fetishes that don’t involve pain, either giving or receiving.
And, as for the sexless scene you seek…
I know many Sadists who play regularly, with different bottoms/masochists, and never have, or want, sex with them.
Are you active in your lical community? Oftentimes, you’ll be made aware of events, clubs or parties that reputable Sadists regularly attend /host, and once you’ve gained the trust and respect of, and built a connection with said Sadists, there will be someone willing to negotiate such a scene with you.
I’ve never have straight sex with my subs. At the most, I will let them bring me to orgasm orally, but even this is restricted – usually to an anal tongue fuck. I can’t seem to get into it any other way.
Straight sex and sadism to me do not go together.
Not sure what normal is, but that’s normal for me.
This thread makes me feel very happy. I was afraid I was weird for enjoying sadism seperatly from sex. I’m not even sure the pleasure I get from it is sexual, so I’m not even sure it’s a kink in the traditional sense. I was worried that might mean I wouldn’t be accepted here… ^^’ I’m glad there’s other people like me.
I don’t think a ‘true’ anything exists, if you are talking about how people identify. That creates too many restrictions and you can’t put people into little boxes that perfectly describe them.
And YES I love pain without sex. Actually, I’m having a difficult time communicating that to my partner. He sees sadism and masochism as having a direct relationship with sex. I wish he saw them separately.
When contacting guys for visits to my basement there is a clear statement that there is no oral or anal sex, fucking, or sucking. There may be some masturbatory activity, edging and some anal play, butt plugs. But play most involves impact play, sensation play, bondage. All quite satisfying.
I have it in my profile. That intercourse sex or penetration of any kind is not what i am looking for. And the few meets I have had. I have not had penetration sex of any kind. But, as billsbasement has implied. yes, I have had edging, spankings, CBT. And the few I have met understand that. Even with a few. They have not even gotten undressed themselves. They stay clothe.
I’ve had sex with a person I’ve ‘tortured’ but I’ve also not. Both ways were excellent. That said I’m a switch and had the most delicious scene with a fellow switch. We had not discussed doing this scene at this moment (we had discussed it for at some point). There was passionate kissing, his hand strayed to my throat and I nodded my consent and spoke his dominant name. He did many things to me but we didn’t have sex yet I came hard. My head went to the best place that day
Sessions that don’t lead to sex are fine.
But, that needs to be said beforehand.
Getting into certain frames of mind requires preparation and some advanced notice.
Mixing S&M sessions with sex is commonplace for me, so is not mixing sex with S&M.
Really depends on the mood I’m in, and what chemistry is going on at the time.
Generally, though… Sessions not involving sex on an ongoing basis would be frustrating, and likely lead to loss in interest.
I suppose, though, I could just have vanilla sex with a partner, and separate out the S&M entirely with other people. But, that’d be cutting out a huge part of the excitement in sadism. For me, anyways.
Maybe I’m weird, but… I like to mix dominance in with sadism.
That usually takes form during sexual acts, alongside the sadistic play.
“Is there such a thing as a “true” Sadist and a “true” masochist”
No. simply put the term or use of the word “true” has been overly used for nearly two decades now.
“any satisfied after a scene if there is no vanilla style sex involved?”
My reply may come off as flip but that’s up to the reader to determine. It is NOT meant to BUT being matter of factly can be interpreted this way.
With that, here goes.
First off, we have to agree just what exactly “sex” is or means here. I only bring this into point b/c the word “sex” was redefined back before some were even born or too young to understand it. Up to that point in time it had a definite meaning, intercourse/fucking.
It’s also difficult to just say yes or no given my history and especially how SM has been changed so. Not the obvious basics but the “rules” people have placed on SM.
I also look at the question from several perspectives.
That of a staff top.
A single male attending a party/club/event involving pick up play or play date.
A master and sub/slave relationship.
Also playing in private or public.
If the question is in the context of sex, meaning intercourse aka fucking, then I can’t truly answer due to the use of the word [va]nilla. Even with a nilla lover, fucking is not “nilla style”. There is always some aspect of the lifestyle involved IE d/s (which I understand is not as aspect of the group) but it IS applicable.
If the question termed, not fucking after a scene, it depends on who I was playing with.
Should my “partner” (for simplicity sakes) be mine, then yes, our scene/play would end with a good ol’ romp. That is what is hopefully going to be the peak of our playing together. This includes both private or public (back in the day). Play partners are different and usually don’t involve any sexual activity. A term I recently learned, “pick up play” is much the same as with play partners or those I’m “topping”. Basically scening/playing for the enjoyment of it.
Now the flip side, IE sex in the context or meaning as what we called “petting” or foreplay, or perhaps mutual masturbation or her riding the edge, being teased with delay or denial and even oral, the same rules wont necessarily apply. And again, is my partner “mine” or a play date for the eve or just met at the “event”?
Going full circle back to the question, there was a time at public venues, when partners, even those who were fluid bonded couldn’t do anything sexual with their “partner” unless a barrier was used, be it a condom, glove or dental damn. Intercourse, fingering or jacking off a male partner was not allowed. Many of us at that time just said okay, we wont do it AT the party/event and opt to wait til we got home or hotel room. So the answer is, sure. It can be a fun scene BUT wont be satiated fully at the event. Which is odd since “some seminars” were taught based on [BD]SM being all about, and I quote,
“getting your cock hard and your pussy wet” (Credit Elizabeth of Differences)
With current circumstances, to attend a party or play privately WITH a play date, that is also new to me and not fuck, the possibility to be satiated after the scene is pretty good.
Provided it was negotiated and understandings set in advance.
I can recall the days when SM was [at that time] better than sex.
What I love most about living a BDSM lifestyle is that it gives us many more options for human interaction between fucking and not fucking.
In vanilla dating sex is most often the end result of the mating process. And once you’ve had it a few times with each other, it gets very boring and predictable. And then what?
My S&M interactions with people are far more interesting and exciting sensation-wise than sex most of the time. If I had to choose between S&M play with no sex involved, or sex with no S&M activities, I will take the S&M with no sex. No hesitation.
I personally view S&M play as a warped kind of erotic dance, or maybe a more advanced kind of foreplay/make-out session. You can enjoy the S&M dance or making out without necessarily having to have sex afterwards to be satisfied with the experience.
However, that being said, there’s nothing better than when it all comes together. My favorite date night is getting all dressed up and going to dinner, then going to a dungeon or party for S&M play, then going home or to a hotel after for sex/aftercare/cuddling/etc. When the click is right, and I’m with a loving and caring partner, putting it all together in this manner is epic. Nothing else in life even comes close to the awesome that is an exciting S&M scene followed by great sex.
But in the meantime, you’ll find me at the local dungeon S&M playing with no sex. Because that’s where all the most interesting people dwell, imho. 🙂
I was Rinsing a plate when I felt Mistress’s hands on my shoulders giving me a gentle squeeze … then her breath was whispering in my ear .. pixie darling .. the soft yet dominant tone was enough to cause a shiver that just seemed to pool in the pit of my stomach … I took a breath, set the plate down …turned the water off .. While She was already snapping my collar around my neck
I could feel the cool chain of my leash teasing down my spine and it sent yet another shiver through me ..
The click of Her heels as She stepped back from me hit me before the tug of the leash did .. I was quickly kneeling and facing Her …She reached with Her free hand and softly traced her nails along my cheek before cupping my chin and lifting my gaze to Hers ….The very look in Her eyes sent a twinge so deep I almost sighed, but I swallowed it down …. One could not help but to succumb to Her. She had been waiting all week to get me alone in the house alone, and today was the day.
She was standing very close, captivating my attention with Her gaze and the occasional stroking of Her fingers through my hair … we seemed to stay this way forever, in silence surrendering my submission to Her Dominance. With every breath I was inhaling her perfumed essence, mixed with her excitement, it was making me swoon and my thoughts were racing as to what She had planned.
With a twisting of her fingers I felt the leash pulling the collar around my neck, the hook now in front she gave a sharp enough tug to pull me forward, holding the leash tight my face pressed into the Y of her thighs. I felt her gasp a quivering breath .. I held mine .. fighting every urge to gently brush my face and lips across the soft silk panties separating me from her flesh.
She knew I was squirming inside and released the leash .. I wouldn’t dare move .. but finally took a slow breath and released it just the same, feeling the warmth soaking into the panties .. my flesh was on fire, tingling from head to toe .. desperately I wanted to press my lips to Her.
I didn’t have to, She leaned forward just slightly, I heard her nails tap the sink as she grasped it for balance, her hips now pressing against my face even harder. The sweet aroma of her excitement, the quivering shortness in her breath – still I did not move – I wasn’t sure how far she was going to go when she suddenly stopped. She didn’t move at all … again I held my breath – a moment of silence and then the click of her heels … a quick turn and a sharp tug of the leash I was following her into the playroom.
I knew she had received something new in the mail earlier in the week but had no idea what I was about to be in store for. As she left me kneeling in the doorway I could see the restraint table already prepared. I began thinking She must have received a new flogger or paddle…but I became a little hesitant when my eyes caught a glimpse that the thigh and waist restraints were on the table. She had it set to bend me over it, my wrists would be corner to corner. I glanced over to Her, hearing a loud WHISH and what first caught my attention was the somewhat evil excited grin that danced on Her lips .. and THEN I saw it.
My heart was pounding … HOW could I have forgotten. I set my gaze back to the table as She walked back over to me. My eyes were as wide with fear as Hers were with excitement. Ever since the party, we attended a few weeks ago, the caning demonstration…..It’s ALL she had talked about. yes, how could I have forgotten?
It appeared to be about 3ft long and I had no idea what it was made of but I felt my ass clenching tightly at the thought of being struck with it. She stood briefly to make sure She had my gaze, and then knelt down before me, placing the cane to my lips, waiting for me to place a kiss of respect upon it. The sparkle in Her eyes, Her energy emanating a calmness .. neither of us hearing a sound but feeling every tug of desire raging inside
Mistress reached for the leash and rose and led me to the table, I was trembling from head to toe as I stood and leaned over it. Without a second thought, I placed my wrist into the restraints and waited patiently while she secured me to the table. Standing in front of me she stroked through my hair, caressed down my back and arms, and began speaking very softly to me.
My darling pixie girl, you tremble like a leaf, your Mistress hopes this in excitement, not fear she would hurt you. Almost barely able to breathe, and knowing she expects an immediate reply, I nod my head at first so she knows I am listening, then finally get the words passed my lips, no ..nooo I am ok Mistress .. its not a fear that YOU will hurt me, just maybe .. that IT will (trying to half-laugh to make myself feel better as my head debated whether this was really going to hurt or not
i whispered back to Her, its the excitement of knowing your pleasure that makes your little one tremble Mistress …. She leaned very close and placed a kiss to my cheek whispering, good girl.
She must have walked around the table 20 times. Teasing, touching, stroking every inch of my bare flesh with the cane. I was covered in goose pumps and trembling and I could feel the dripping warmth of my juices as my excitement grew …. my fingertips were clenching over the edge of the table
She began then switching back and forth between the cane and her own hands…. Whispering in a steady voice all the while describing how soft and beautiful my flesh was, how she loved that I took such good care of it for Her and How lovely it was going to look striped in red across my ass and thighs ….
THAT caused a clenching of every muscle in my body (omg omg can I really do this) She soothed my being with Her inviting voice, I was writhing softly now against the table .. desperately trying to entice Her to touch and stroke my flesh with the cane again. Goddess how I loved the essence and power of this Woman over me .. Controlling every desire with such patience and genuine need
And with that racing thought I heard Her ask me if I was ready … I couldn’t open my eyes, I could barely breath, but I knew I wanted more than anything right now to feed Her energy of Hers ….. I nodded with a whimpering sigh .. Yes Mistress…
I tensed every muscle and tried to control my swallowed breath, twinging spasms were aching within my loins..after placing a pillow under my head She stroked her hand tenderly over my bottom .. a gentle slap letting me know she expected to relax, it took me several seconds .. and with barely an escaped breath I heard it before I ever felt it .. She really barely struck me but the sting and searing pain burning through my flesh at that moment forced a scream from my lungs that I promptly buried into that pillow (silly me to think it was for my comfort).. I writhed and tried burying my entire body into the table to escape .. when She hissed several more strokes into my flesh …
Immediately in my crying scream, I muttered out my safeword
It was well more intense than I had expected and while inside the pool of desire and lust was certainly swirling, I needed a moment to at least let it sink in … Mistress walked from my side and stood before me, leaning close to me, stroking the tears from my cheek, and placing soft kisses to my face .. I trembled my body was confused in its pain and pleasure .. I knew at this point it was my fear of the pain, rather than real pain that had caused me to utter my safe word .. I also knew the rule though, once I said it there was no changing my answer …
She continued stroking my hair with one hand, the other releasing my wrist from their bounds .. I laid very still, just softly breathing, yet still trembling from head to toe … She stroked my flesh gently .. comforting,, reassuring She made Her way down my back. Then flourished each red welt of the cane with Her tender kisses …
She could not help but notice the dripping excitement seeping from my very swollen lips .. I see my pixie liked pleasing her Mistress today, didn’t she. I nodded and writhed back against Your stroking fingers, whispering in a quivered breath, Yes Mistress .. She continued stroking and teasing Her fingers through my juices, occasionally slipping through the folds, causing my inner walls to grasp…my breath stolen – oh god I felt as if I could crawl right out of my flesh – feeling the excitement and trembling from Her own body …. my obedience and desire to submit to Her control sending me over the edge as suddenly cried out oh please Mistress … She buried Her fingers within me, Her body collapsed against mine I heard what I longed for, now pixie …. cum for Your Mistress pixie … and together the raptures of lust exploded like a crashing wave through our bodies ….
He was furious with me for being such a brat….. for behaving poorly and not caring if my antics hurt him or not. He was tired of my being selfish and difficult….. So as the door slammed hard, I quickly turned to see him
standing there, already unbuttoning his pants. My heart began pounding in my ears. The sickening (and yes, exciting…) “thwick” as his belt leaves the loops…. His face tells me this beating will leave marks….. his eyes flash with barely-controlled rage. I realize that I’m caught between the bed and the wall…. my only escape is to flee over the bed or turn and fight him off. Daddy is a wall himself, I’d never even make a dent. So I turn back and begin scampering across the big bed (fuck, WHY is it SO big??) – but before I’m even halfway across, I feel a hand clamp around my ankle and yank me back. A hard, stinging slap lands on my pajama-covered ass, followed by seven more in very quick succession. Fear begins to well up in my chest as tears spring already to my eyes.
“You are not going ANYWHERE. You deserve what you get….. you asked for this,” he growls in my ear, his deep voice almost shaking with anger. Not one to be quietly subdued, my fight or flight instinct once again takes over and I begin to violently thrash in an attempt to get away from him. A low, angry growl escapes his throat as he pulls me half off the bed, trapping one arm quite painfully behind my back, and my legs down with one of his. I am hopelessly pinned. A prisoner. DAMN his Army training!
“You’re only making it worse for yourself, Little One,” he says, his voice like ice – and for an instant, I believe he wants me to make it harder on myself!
With deft hands, Daddy begins yanking clothes off me, leaving only my tank top. I suddenly feel the cold air from the bedroom fan as it breathes across my newly bared ass cheeks, and I feel a slight twitch in my pussy as I hear Daddy suck in his breath as he sees my almost naked body. His hand tightens on my wrist as if angrier at me for having to be turned on at my nakedness. His thighs are like warm steel holding me firmly over the bed.
“Of course I never expected you to lie still and take it – but you’ve earned yourself extra for being such a bitch.” My breath catches in my throat… a bitch? I don’t know that I’ve ever seen Daddy so angry. His voice gets more clinical and cold with each word – and that scares me more than anything. And excites me, too. I meet his Vulcan demeanor with pure teenage determination. I say nothing.
In answer to my silence, I hear him fumble with his belt, looping it up double and checking his grip on the ends. My blood turns to ice water, but I still refuse to say a word. I will NOT give him the satisfaction! My body betrays me, though, by beginning to tremble ever so slightly. And a further betrayal – growing excitement. The thought of Daddy whipping me, looking at my naked body, even his rage – all brings about a highly erotic state for me. I feel tingles in my pussy, knowing that it’s beginning to drip… and my nipples strain against the cotton of my tank top. What is happening to me?
Before I can begin to reason it out, however, I feel Daddy swing his arm up, and with a low, animalistic growl in his throat, he brings the belt back down on my young flesh. Pain races through my body like wildfire, and I scream out in spite of myself. “Aaaahhhhh, NO, DADDY! That HURTS! Stop!!” He acts as though he hasn’t heard, however, and a second – even HARDER, if that’s possible? – blow lands across the middle of my ass cheeks. The pain is absolutely unbearable… yet my nipples ache against my shirt, and I can already feel juices seeping down my thigh. My confused mind is at war with my body.
A third violent strike lands across the tops of my thighs, and I manage to squirm slightly away from his grasp, now that we’re both sweating a bit.
“You stay right where you are,” an almost unfamiliar voice growls in my ear, and a firmer grasp puts me back in place. “That’s another two for you.” Daddy’s words fly by me unnoticed, however, because I am transfixed by the hardness I feel against my thigh. I feel dizzy with the implications of his arousal – arousal at beating his one and only daughter. Or is it from seeing me naked? I am bombarded by thoughts and questions…
In rapid succession, three vicious blows fall on my already crimson ass and upper thighs, leaving nasty welts in their wake. I feel bruised and swollen. Gutteral sounds slip from Daddy’s throat as the rage pours from him – feeding on itself, rather than abating. I hear deafening screams and sobs, and only after a few moments do I realize that those raspy sounds are coming from my own throat! I struggle, but only enough to feel as though I’m not simply lying down and taking it – not enough to earn me a longer strapping. My heart threatens to rip out of my chest, and the sheets under me become soaked with my tears. Yet through all this… my pussy continues to throb, juice positively flowing down my legs and onto the side of the bed. I panic that he will be able to see… that he will know I’m a slut. Surely that would lengthen this hell?
“I hate you!” The words fly in a cry unbidden from my mouth, and panic surges anew, turning my skin to ice. I am truly afraid, yet a new emotion begins to emerge – a rage of my own. A new emotion smoldering in my belly like an infant, suckling at my embarrassment and fear.
I feel a cruel hand twist itself up in my hair and yank my head back, threatening to tear my head off. I scream and reach back to grip your arm, trying to free myself, in vain of course. You are surely possessed… your voice travels like little fingers to my pussy – stroking it, caressing it – ending all reason and sanity. “Good,” you growl, sounding so much like the wolves you prize. “That will make me enjoy this so much more.”
As if to emphasize your point, you wind up and deliver another two blows to my welted and blistered body, and before I know what’s happening, a low moan escapes my throat. You freeze, arm high in the air about to deliver another. I can almost hear the cranks in your head turning, reasoning out what you just heard. Within seconds you come back to yourself and bring that belt down, harder than the rest.
“From now on,” you spit at me, “you WILL think of someone other than yourself!” Two more blows, accompanied by guttural moans from you, end the tirade, and you finally let go of me. Eleven straps with your leather belt – and I vow silently to make you pay for each and every one. For every bruise, every welt. At this moment, I truly hate you… and hate myself for feeling so alive and aroused.
You stand there panting, waiting for my reaction. Slowly I peel myself off the bed, a mess of sweat, welts, bruises, a little blood – and completely soaked between my thighs, although I’m not sure you are aware of that. Slowly I turn to face you, and you blink in surprise at the rage barely contained on my tear-stained face. If submissive obedience and chagrin is what you expected, you are sorely disappointed. I straighten myself up, sticking my chin in the air. My voice drawls out in a hateful hiss – like water on hot coals. “Don’t you ever hit me again.” You can see that I’m trembling. With rage? Fear? Embarrassment? Or… something else? And then, in an irony that eludes only brave teenagers, I wind up and slap you across the face as hard as I possibly can. Which, for your daughter, is rather hard – sufficiently shocking you for a moment.
At that moment I realize my mistake, and turn tail to run as quickly as my shaky legs will carry me. I manage to get as far as the hallway before I hear you roar with fury and give chase. Panic springs in my chest and I run faster, but I only make it to the end of the hallway before you reach me – grabbing my hair and yanking me backwards into your broad chest. I scream. You don’t even notice… you don’t say a word as you slam me to the floor, knocking the wind out of my lungs. I look up helplessly as you throw all of your weight on top of me, pinning me to the cold wooden floor.
“That was a mistake, bitch – one that you will regret.” I see no trace of my loving Daddy in you now – only anger. Your eyes flash with the insanity of violence and the desire to inflict pain. In moments you have rid yourself of your boxers and T-shirt, and with quick yank – my tank top is ripped from my body. Your knees thud down between my legs, separating them, and as I struggle to regain my wits, you snarl as you look down at my naked, aroused body. Your eyes rake over me, taking in my painfully hard nipples, the sweat covering my skin, and the slickness covering my thighs. Bringing your eyes back to mine, your face slides into a sickening grin.
“Would you like to be my whore? Daddy’s whore?” Painfully, cruelly, you twist one nipple – and then the other. Alarm bells race through my body, causing me to struggle desperately against my bonds, which only enrages you further. With a snarl, you slap me – HARD! – not once, not twice, but three times across the face, scrambling my wits. I immediately feel the swelling begin – in my face, and further in my pussy. In my fear, all I can do is glare back at you.
Taking both my small hands in one of yours, you reach down to rip my thighs open, pulling my body closer to you. I know what is coming, and I am ashamed to feel my hips arching up to meet you. With one quick thrust, you push your thick, hard cock deep into my pussy – throwing your head back and crying out as you feel my hot, wet flesh close around it. Immediately you begin pounding into my young pussy, desperate to sate this lust.
“You bastard!” I’m barely able to spit out, in between guttural moans and choking sobs. “You bastard, how could you?” Yet my body betrays me yet again by matching your thrusts, wanting more. Needing more!
“Shut up, bitch – you begged for this. You fucking whore.” You fuck harder, deeper, trying to punish me. I only moan louder. In your mind, you see all the skimpy outfits I paraded around the house in… the boys I made out with downstairs or on the front porch… the time you watched through the crack of my door as I brought myself to climax with my glass dildo. And you punish my cunt for every thought.
It seems to go on for hours… being split open by my Daddy’s cruel thrusts, and cumming shamelessly all over his throbbing dick, coating it with my juices. Suddenly you begin to fuck faster, growling deep in your throat, gripping me painfully.
A desperate thought comes to mind and I push up almost to my elbows. “Don’t you DARE cum inside me, you fuck!” My voice is raspy and shrill with panic. I’m already close to another orgasm…
You slap me again, wait for me to register the shock, and then once more. My pussy twitches at the sheer enjoyment on your face. You are a sick man! Your breath comes in ragged bursts, and you lean down to growl in my ear, “I will cum in you, slut… and you will carry my seed in your belly.” My blood freezes.
And with a final thrust and howl, you explode deep in my pussy, causing a last orgasm to arch my back. We lay there for long moments, panting, sweating, trying to come back to our senses.
They’ve danced around the heat building between them, but finally, this dance is ending and another is about to begin. They have a date tonight to see just how hot the fires are going to burn. She’s dressed carefully for the evening and prepped the scene area. All of her equipment is clean, and all the supplies are accounted for. She is painfully restless, waiting for him to arrive. She can’t sit still, and paces the house like a restless lion. Finally, his car pulls up, and he heads to the door. She opens it and he steps in.
She looks amazing. He can tell she dressed for him and it touches him. He sweeps her up in a rib creaking hug and can’t help the grin stretching his face. She holds on tight and sinks her teeth into his shoulder. Happiness turns to desire and without setting her down, he kicks the door shut. She tilts her face up to look at him and the kiss just happens. Nothing slow or sweet, but all teeth and tongue, frantic with need.
She breaks away and leads him to the room she has prepped. His heart pounds in anticipation of what she is going to do to him. His cock strains to bursting at the thoughts going through his head. She gives him a toothy grin and tugs on his hand, her eyes alight with a devilish glow.
With no warning, she fires a right cross and nails him in the face. His head snaps to the side and she waits to see how he reacts. Almost as quickly as the punch snapped his head, he looks back at her, eyes on fire with lust and need. She nods with a knowing smile and begins to unbutton her blouse. He reaches for her, wanting…needing.
“No.” The one word stops him cold and unease curls in his belly. “Watch, wait, do as I say.”
His fists clench but he obeys and she smiles, secure in her place here. Once her shirt is off, she tosses it aside. She never wears a bra, so she is deliciously bare from the waist up. She glides toward him with a predator’s smile.
“What do you want?” she asks him. “Tell me.” She caresses his chest and waits. He reaches for her again.
“No. Tell me.”
“I want to fuck you.”
“And?”
“And I want you to hurt me.”
“Ahhhh, there we go.” She takes off his shirt in an abrupt motion and wraps herself around him while biting deep into his chest. He groans and clutches at her, torn between pulling her tighter and pushing her away. True desire wins out and he cups her head to his chest. She growls in appreciation of the acceptance.
Her hands fumble at his pants, and finally she just orders him to strip. She saunters over to a chair in the room and watches the show. When he stands before her, naked and hard she blatantly stares, heat filling her gaze to the point he could swear that he could track her eyes on his body by the sensation.
“Stroke your cock for me.”
She orders, he complies…as it was meant to be.
“Come here,” she demands. He approaches her and her hand replaces his. Her eyes meet his as she swallows his cock. His hands clutch her head but he freezes when her teeth clamp down. She can feel his cock pulse and she begins to slide her teeth along his length. Her hands reach up to cup his balls, and then she digs her nails into the sensitive flesh.
His world explodes with sensation and he throws his head back gasping. His hands grasp her shoulders so tight as to bruise. She hums deep in her throat and he pulls her free. Her lips are swollen and wet with saliva. She holds a hand up to him and he pulls her roughly against him. Her arms twine around his neck and she pulls his head down for a soul devouring kiss. He notices she doesn’t close her eyes when she kisses so he holds her gaze, making the kiss even more potent.
She breaks the kiss and rakes her nails down his sides, causing him to hiss with the sensation and grind his cock into her belly. She moans into his chest and then pushes away. She looks at him as she backs away and holds out a finger to keep him in place. She turns and faces the nightstand. He can tell she is doing something but not what. When she turns, her fingertips glint with sharp, cold metal.
She runs the claws over her body, tracing faint red lines over throat, chest, breasts and belly.
“Come here,” she murmurs.
He complies and she opens her arms to him. He nuzzles her neck but knows better than to reciprocate her level of aggression. Her claws prickle over some very sensitive territory. She lifts one of his hands to cup her breast and shows him what she likes, bruising pressure that in the heat of the moment just feels good. He drops to his knees to lick and suck her breasts and nipples and she moans at his attentions. He strips down her long skirt, forming a puddle of blackness on the floor and wraps his arms around her waist, lifting her and throwing her on the bed. She gives the most delicious squeal when she lands with a bounce and then reclines on her elbows. Her claws trace over her hard nipples and she shudders.
He wastes no time joining her on the bed, but is surprised to feel that the sheet covers something. He raises an eyebrow at her and she smiles. “Polyurethane. I’m a planner.” He laughs and then covers her with his body. He is solid and so much bigger than her. If she wasn’t so sure of him, it could be threatening but she knows who holds the cards.
Hands, lips, tongues and teeth caress, explore and conquer. Positions change, limbs entwine and finally, he is poised to enter her very wet and very willing body. She stops him with a hand on his chest, claws gleaming in the light.
“Are you absolutely sure you want this? I can’t put the tiger back in the cage if I let her out.”
“I want whatever you are willing to give me.”
She purrs low in her throat and carefully wraps her hand around his cock, positioning him at her entrance. She is trembling with anticipation as she moves her hands to his sides.
“Do you trust me?”
“With my life.”
“Do you accept that I’m going to hurt you, cut you, and bleed you while I fuck you?”
“Gods yes!”
“Do you want this, honestly and truly?”
“Yes, please yes.”
“Kiss me!”
As his mouth crushes hers, her claws rip down his sides and the blood begins to trickle down. He screams into her mouth and buries his cock inside her. She arches into him and her claws rake his shoulder blades, and he screams into her mouth again. She moans as she swallows his screams and rakes him again, causing more blood to flow, hot and thick. The blood drips down his back and sides onto her as she undulates beneath him.
She carefully pulls the claws from her fingers save the right index and places the sharp point on his chest and over his heart. She locks her legs around his back before pressing the claw hard into his skin and drawing a ragged line. He bucks and screams again and again she drinks him down, taking all he has to offer.
Her body is slick with his blood and her hands are coated with him. Blood begins to flow from his chest and she breaks the kiss to savage the wound. His hands wrap underneath to her shoulders and he rolls them so she is on top. Her mouth is still latched to his chest and he almost comes when he realizes she is drinking him down.
Her hips undulate in a frantic rhythm, and she raises up off of his chest. Her breasts and belly are covered in red and her hands leave bloody prints on his chest as she uses him for leverage. She guides his hands down to her hips and growls.
“Fuck me! Bleed for me and fuck me!”
She leans back and lets his hands grind her hips up and down onto him. Her hands squeeze her blood-slickened breasts and then she sucks her fingers into her already bloody mouth. Her body rises and falls, and her eyes never leave his. Her pleasure has begun to clench her body and she clenches her fists into his chest. She pants and gasps as she rides him, her eyes glazed with lust. She cocks a fist back and just as she explodes, she drives her knuckles into his face and her world falls away. She is vaguely aware of him convulsing beneath her, erupting inside of her.
Slowly, they drift back to themselves, still connected. She’s humming and lightly touching the bleeding wounds on his sides as she rests on his chest. She nuzzles his neck and breathes deep of his scent, now laced with copper and pain. His hands trace light patterns on her back and he kisses her forehead. He looks down and she is a vision, sweat soaked and covered in blood from mouth to knees.
“Let’s get you cleaned up,” she murmurs against his neck and pulls him up and to the bathroom. She licks each wound before carefully washing them and rinsing the blood off of both of them. After the shower she pulls him to the mirror and shows him the cuts that will soon be his first set of scars from her. There are eight clean lacerations over each of his sides and one slightly more ragged one on his chest. They’ve stopped bleeding but are red and raw. She pulls him back to the bed but pulls the bloody sheet off revealing a pristine set underneath.
“I’m a planner.”
He laughs and despite the sting pulls her against his side while they sleep.
She smiles down at him as he kneels before her in his sharply pressed suit, well-polished dress shoes, and while his eyes are wide and pleading. Her black hair cascades down as she leans closer. He can see the different, brightly colored highlights in her carefully managed tresses. He finds himself drawn to them even with everything else going on.
“Good… so good…” Her voice is thick and sultry matched by her hot breath on his face.
“Thank you, Miss… so much…”
She smiles even wider at his gratitude. Gratitude for the terrible, frightening things she had already done to him and what was still to come. His gratitude is obvious, just as his arousal is.
“Now beg me, you fucking animal…” Her hissing voice demonstrates the cruelty she feels, and the evil that he loves.
“Please, Miss. Please hurt me, and make me suffer…” His voice is cracking and he gasps for air. Her reaction is unsurprising to him.
“Disgusting…”
CRACK! The crop slices hard across his back.
“You are filth. A repulsive and depraved…thing. You have no business dressing like a man or even a person. You are neither and we both know it. Strip!” She is angry now, her rage building with every breath or fevered thought. He is perfect for her… a living thing being molded into an object for her sheer amusement.
He rushes to strip his clothes off, practically tearing the expensive suit from him while tossing his pricey shoes as if they were cheap sandals. His disregard for himself is but one of the qualities that she loves about him… and one that she has built in him over the last few months.
CRACK!
“Not…”
CRACK!
“fast…”
CRACK!
“ENOUGH!”
CRACK!
“So sorry, Miss… I am so…”
CRACK!
“SHUT THE FUCK UP! Do as you are told and save your pathetic excuses until you are properly prepared for service!”
He knows better than to even acknowledge her command but instead to undress as quickly as possible and make himself ready for…what comes next.
It wasn’t always like this.
They were almost equaled.
Almost.
Meeting my boss
“Hello, I am your new assistant, Denise.”
She was demure and polite, her handshake fairly firm and warm to the tall and authoritative executive that Danny was. Past tense.
“Excellent. Punctual AND polite. I appreciate the little things, Denise.”
His smile was genuine. Hers, on the other hand, was less so.
“Thank you, sir. I am anxious to get started.”
“As you can see, your desk is just outside my office. On occassion, the other assistants or Supervisors might need your help so when things are a little slow you will answer to them as long as it doesn’t interfere with your duties for me. I won’t be yelling or anything but I will be calling your desk should I need you in my office or otherwise. Any questions?”
Denise seemed to be biting her tongue but Danny didn’t seem to notice as she answered.
“Sounds great, sir. Where do I start?”
“Well, a cup of coffee for yourself and I, and meet me in my office in ten minutes, then.” He smiled a little warmer before finishing the handshake and heading for his office.
“Of course, sir. Right away.” She spun around and, in an almost calculated fashion, swayed gently towards the office kitchen on this floor. He stared, as she knew he would, and in a test of his will, he managed to look away before she went out of sight in spite of her stunning appearance.
“Here you are, sir… wasn’t sure how you take it so I brought a few things.”
“Thoughtful, Denise, thank you.”
They exchanged pleasantries and discussed a few of the basics of her job as his Executive Assistant, including basic filing, typing, phones, retrieving files and documents, etc., along with more mundane tasks such as getting lunch for the both of them, coffee, drinks for Danny and office guests, etc. She was prepared for so-called menial tasks only because it fit into her long term goals.
Dark, terrible, goals, carefully cultivated from his professional and personal profile.
You see, Denise did her homework. And then some. Rudimentary information could be found online in his professional profile, company website, and some information gleaned from his background as well as prospective clients and businesses.
But she wanted more. And as Danny’s ex-wife had a small ax to grind (as she divorced him prior to his success) and his high school girlfriend was a similarly… vengeful type, Denise’s plans were even easier to put together and her goals were attainable with effort.
And with her…singular… background and experiences. An experience that was just as dark and terrible as her plans for Danny. There would be a little warning, and less of a chance to resist.
The weeks passed and Danny grew comfortable with Denise as his Assistant. She was tasked with handling practically every professional detail outside of his office, from expense reports to delivering and preparing high-end proposals for clients. The devil was in the details of Danny’s life. Literally.
It had taken a long time for an opportunity like this to cross Denise’s scrutiny and she made the most of it. This would be the game changer she was waiting for and she was careful in managing things even slightly before she came to work for Danny.
“Your 1 O’Clock is here, sir.” Denise’s smile was ever-pleasant, hiding her intentions even as they reflected her satisfaction.
“Thanks, Denise… you really do keep things running for me. Send her in.”
“Emily, thank you for meeting me on short notice.” Not one to mince words overmuch in business, and knowing Emily’s similarly focused nature, Danny got to the point. “So what do you think of the proposal? Do we have a deal?”
“Well, Danny… I like what I see and of course, Denise has laid out everything very clearly but I still have questions on this proposal. I was thinking about lunch?”
“Of course, would you like to use the conference room or office? Denise knows every restaurant in the area by heart…”
“No, off-site.”
“Oh… I suppose that’s fine. Shall we?” Standing, Danny gestured to the door as he grabbed his briefcase. Emily stood, almost in a confrontational fashion, and stared Danny down.
“Denise is coming, as well.”
Danny was startled and his hesitation was obvious.
“I…what? That is, I suppose that’s fine…”
“Well, you said yourself she knows the restaurants and I know for a fact that this proposal was due in large part to her work, correct?”
“Emily, I… well, yes.”
“Then it’s settled. Let’s bring her in.” Emily stared down at the phone on Danny’s desk.
Hesitating, he picked it up and dialed Denise’s desk. “Hello, Denise? The client would like you to join us for lunch, if that’s okay?”
“I…suppose so…” Denise’s calculated pause unnerved Danny a little. He felt that he had less control over this deal than he was used to. He didn’t know the half of it.
“You’ll drive, of course.” Emily’s statement was more of an order. Danny was getting flustered, but it wasn’t unusual for him to drive out of town clients to entertain them.
“Certainly…” Holding the doors open for Emily and Denise as the three left for lunch seemed to further undermine Danny’s position in this negotiation. A fact not lost on either Emily nor Denise, as both seemed to be smiling and chatting away the entire time.
Lunch was no different, and Danny literally was a third wheel the entire time. The Ladies talked of designer handbags, expensive clothes, and shoes. At that, Danny grew strangely confused…
Emily always seemed authoritative and lovely, a woman who cared for herself and was clearly used to being pampered. What caught Danny off-guard was the same qualities now obvious in Denise.
He found himself staring blankly from one to the other as they spoke, his eyes gravitating from their lovely lips, to their gracious curves, to their well-manicured nails, to their designer shoes, to their sparkling eyes.
Eyes sparkling with devious intent.
Without warning his reverie was cut short as Emily stared Danny down.
“Danny… this proposal makes good sense, I think. Fair, equitable, and ultimately profitable for your company, correct?”
He wasn’t sure how to answer or even what to think…but Denise did.
“Well, Danny has let me know that of course, our company will do well here, just as you will be getting fair value for the property and the arrangements, isn’t that right, Danny?” Her tone was different. Her tone was more than the helpful assistant that she played.
It was commanding.
“Yes, Denise, it…” Denise cut him off and turned back towards Emily.
“So of course you can see that we make a great team for you, Emily. I think that this proposal can be terrific for both our companies, even in the short term.”
Danny wasn’t sure what was going on at all. But Emily did. And Denise was getting exactly the reaction she was expecting.
“True, Denise. Okay, Danny… it’s a deal but of course I have a few stipulations that we haven’t really covered yet.”
“Name it…” Denise’s answer was quick, and although Danny agreed to an extent, he WAS supposed to be the authority here.
He wasn’t. At all.
“To start with, Denise here gets a healthy commission and more than the usual for document prep, etc., understood?”
Both ladies turned to Danny, their eyes locked on his and fishing for weakness and compliance.
And finding it. In spades.
“Understood.”
“Next, she gets her own office. I need Denise to be given free rein to follow up and manage my account and this property, especially as there will be more to come. Understood?”
“Understood, Emily.”
“Please, call me Ms. Parsons.” Her tone had changed. No longer were the understanding and respected businesswoman.
“Yes, Ms. Parsons, I understand.”
“Better.” Emily smiled, satisfied at Danny’s compliance. Were he looking at Denise he would have seen a similar if slightly meaner, version of that smile.
“Denise no longer will be working with any other assistants or supervisors unless she wants to. She is exclusively assigned to my accounts.”
She paused. The expected answer came a few seconds later as Danny figured out what was expected of him…
“Understood, Ms. Parsons.”
“Good. Now I am sure there are things I am forgetting. Denise will fill you in on the details, if that’s okay with you, Denise?”
“Thanks, Emily, I am sure that’s fine.”
“Oh, and Danny, if ANYthing is amiss I will hear it from Denise, is THAT understood.” Her tone at that statement was clearly a threat. A harsh, unforgiving, threat.
“Yes, Ms. Parsons.”
With that, Emily pushed the check to Danny and stood.
“We’ll be waiting at the car. I suggest you hurry.”
“Yes, Ms. Parsons, thank you…”
“Whatever.” With that, Emily and Denise left the table, leaving him with a substantial check. And a sense of bewilderment unlike any he has ever felt before.
Baby steps of a butler
After paying the check in a haze, he gathered the signed paperwork, his briefcase, and headed out. Looking back, he noticed Denise’s purse and went back for it. As he stepped to Valet parking he noticed Emily and Denise having a cigarette.
“What took you so long??” Emily’s tone was anything but professional.
“Sorry, Ms. Parsons, I found Denise’s purse.”
“Found? I didn’t misplace it…” She looked at Danny with a condescending smile as she casually exhaled a thick plume of smoke from her cigarette. The implications of the statement were not lost on Danny but he couldn’t find a thing to say about it.
The drive back to the office was similarly exclusive to Denise and Emily, often referring to Danny as ‘That one’ and mentioning how different things would be for Denise now. Danny was struggling to figure out how best to address this mess when he got back to the office. Ms. Parsons… Emily… left little room for Danny if he wanted to close this huge deal for his company.
As they parked, Danny found himself in the role of the butler, opening doors, and walking behind the entire time, until he saw Ms. Parsons car pull out of the parking structure and he stared blankly at Denise. She smiled at him in a way that was unsettling and simply turned away to the elevators and back to the office.
The ride up was a quiet one as Danny couldn’t think of a way to start addressing all of the problems he had with the luncheon that left him emotionally bruised and left confused.
Sitting in his office, Danny blankly checked his email and cleared his voice mail, robotically responding to everything, just enough to muddle through.
The appearance of Denise in his office door, unannounced, was the first of many disturbing things to come.
“I have a few things for you, boss.” The term was not used respectfully.
“I…what? Wait…” She didn’t wait. At all. She confidently strode to his desk and callously dropped a sheaf of paperwork in front of him. On top was the signed and confirmed deal paperwork for Ms. Parsons.
Underneath that lay paperwork that froze his blood. Authorization forms, consignment forms, personnel forms, all filled out and signed by Denise.
“They all need your approval. I will need those by end of business today…boss.” She spun on her high heels and strutted out of his office leaving him slack-jawed.
The next few weeks were a blur for Danny as the construction crew built Denise’s office adjacent to his while simultaneously reducing the size of his office. She noticed the furniture coming in, her wardrobe improving (as he had authorized her promotion and raise, of course), and a significant change in her attitude. The way things had happened regarding the Parsons account was now widespread throughout the company… the meteoric rise of an Executive Assistant mentored by a seasoned executive.
But many knew the actual truth. The other assistants, for example, all knew exactly what Denise had done to gain her promotion. Every step, told in humiliating detail. Every one of the assistants would practically giggle as Danny walked past, knowing how Denise had played the situation and how easily Danny folded. Given the hard economic times how could he refuse such a lucrative deal for the company? His commission was almost nothing… Ms. Parsons had seen to that, and so much more.
Denise’s success was all on the shoulders of one account, but that wouldn’t be enough for her and certainly wouldn’t get her everything she dreamed of.
First slap
So it was that Denise walked into Danny’s office one day just at closing as he was taking up his laptop and briefcase, again without knocking. After today she would never need to be respectful of his privacy… or anything of his.
“Hey there boss.” The sarcastic use of the title was not lost on him.
“Er…hi Denise, how are you?”
“Good, good… of course.” Her smile was triumphant. As she only had one client she had to be careful of appearances when others were around. Not so much when everyone else was walking out.
“I am glad to hear that…” She cut him off.
“Of course it’s good, boss. With Emily’s accounts doing so well for the company you look enough like a hero for mentoring me that you still shine… a little.” Danny had no idea where she was going with all this but he knew that anything he said to her would make it back to Ms. Parsons. He had no idea what to say.
“Thank you…”
“Whatever.” The same tone as Ms. Parsons, now on the lovely lips of Denise as she stood confidently in his office. A second later she casually closed his office door. The click of the lock should have been a warning for Danny to run like hell. But he didn’t.
“I am sorry, but is there something I can do for you, Denise?” He was being polite in spite of everything he really wanted to say.
“Actually, there is, boss. It’s why I’m here a few minutes past closing.” She smiled. A wicked, dark, smile, enhanced by her blood red lips and shimmering eyes, so beautiful even in the harsh office light. A light that went dim as her sharpened nails were dragged over the dial near the door. He noticed her high heels and tight fitting skirt and blouse as she took a couple of confident steps into his office.
He was breathing hard and broke into a sweat.
“Please…” She cut him off again.
“What? Is poor Mr. Big Boss man scared of little ol’ ME?” She carefully drummed her lovely nails over her ample bosom enhancing her cleavage and leaving Danny’s mouth dry as the desert.
“It isn’t that, it’s just…”
“It IS that…. admit it.”
“I don’t know what you mean, Denise?”
“Miss. Call me Miss.”
“What?”
She stared down for a second as she came around the desk, close to him. Her head shaking slightly, disappointedly, her perfume was heady and thick. Her sultry, thick, voice, cut through him.
“I said… address me as ‘Miss'” She looked up, staring into his eyes as she stood mere inches from him. He nearly tumbled back against his chair trying to keep his balance.
“I still don’t understand…”
SLAP!
Her hand crossed his cheek at a thousand miles an hour, leaving a deep red mark across his face.
“I said you will address me as ‘Miss’ from now on.”
She waited. She had built to a moment like this for months now, waiting, to finally see if she was right about Danny. After everything she has already done to him, and knowing that she had to keep pushing to really be successful, this moment meant everything and she wouldn’t let him out of it.
“I… can’t…” He was unsure, his hand on his face was shaking.
SLAP!
Coming the other way, Danny now had matching red marks on his cheeks.
“Fucking idiot. You can and you WILL.”
SLAP!
“Please stop… Denise, please….”
SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!
Danny almost fell over, leaning completely against his desk.
“Listen, you little bitch… you have no right to use my name anymore. People can use names. Not you. Not anymore, is that understood?”
“Please, I don’t understand?”
“Then I will explain things more clearly… you are my bitch.”
She waited, drinking in his fear, confusion, and his physical reaction.
“I own you. You gave me Emily’s account because I made you. I worked with Emily and she recognized potential in me. So I took the opportunity to take it from you. To steal it from you. And in doing so make you thank me for it…”
“It wasn’t like that…”
SLAP!
“Yes, it was, bitch. I took it from you and made you like it. And that’s just the beginning, cupcake. I am going to take your life apart and you will thank me for every step. I will make you beg for it. Beg for me to break you into little pieces, faggot.”
He was on the verge of tears but importantly Denise could see his resistance, such as it was, was almost gone. He was feeling the crush of the company valueing Ms. Parsons account and the money Denise was bringing in, and he didn’t know where to start fighting it.
She saw the weakness and knew what to do.
“Strip.”
“What? Denise, please don’t…”
“Don’t what? I’m not going to do ANYthing! You are going to take off your clothes right now.”
“But why, Denise? Please, I…”
SLAP!
“You will take off your clothes so I can see what a pathetic excuse of a man you really are. I want you stripped and exposed like some fucking animal.”
“No, please…”
SLAP!
“I am sick and tired of repeating myself, idiot. Take off your fucking clothes right now. I will correct your use of the word ‘No’ in the future. For now, I want you naked.”
Slowly he started to remove his dress jacket and tie. Denise leaned back, triumphantly, smiling down at him as he leaned up against his desk and took off all of his clothes, down to his socks and boxers.
“Boxers? You don’t need boxers. From now on it’s tight-y whiteys, bitch. Butthuggers. Only real men need boxers and you don’t have enough equipment to count.”
He said nothing, only went flush with shame.
“Take them off.”
He hesitated. Denise knew exactly how far she could go now with Danny.
Anywhere she wanted.
SLAP!
Without another word he dropped his boxers to his ankles and was naked before Denise as she stood over him.
“Just as I thought.” Her condeceding smile told him everything he needed to know about his chances with Denise as a girlfriend or anything close to it.
Zero.
“Pathetic. A tiny dick for a tiny little bitch. I hope you have learned your lesson, whore. I own you now. From now on if I snap my fingers you come running… if I call you answer… if I say to kneel you will drop before me like I am your God. Because I am.”
“Please… Den… Miss.” She smiled and held out her lovely, delicate hand.
“Close. But you have to learn. Hand me your belt, faggot.”
Knowing his mistake and obviously accepting his role, for now at least, he bent down and retrieved his belt from the pile that his pants had become, and handed it gingerly to Denise.
“Now bend over and stick your lily-white ass up in the air for a beating.” He didn’t hesitate, leaning far over his desk and pushing his ass back a little.
She held the belt, feeling the leather and smiling. She waited.
“Now beg me, bitch.”
“Please, Miss.”
“Please what?”
He was almost crying.
“Please beat me, Miss.”
“Well, since you asked so politely…” Her smile was wide and proud.
The belt found every inch of his ass and part of his back. Welted, red, and crying, Danny was spent and helpless on his own desk, his sweat in a pool underneath him.
“You are a sick fuck, you know that? I made you beg to whip your ass and you just took it… I lost count of how many… turn around.”
Struggling to move, every inch of his body on fire, Danny slowly turned to face his new owner.
His erection was unmistakable, pointing it’s short length towards the ceiling. Denise knew it would be involuntary after everything she put him through but Danny didn’t need to know anything.
“Fucking pervert. Your useless little cock is dripping and hard after I beat your ass. You make me sick…”
WHACK!
The belt found his cock and with a yelp he cried out in pain.
The knock on the office door followed a minute later.
“Is everything okay, Mr. Danny?” They both recognized the heavy accent of the cleaning lady.
Denise leaned in close and hissed in his face, her spittle showering him.
“Tell her everything’s fine… if you mention I am in here you will be sorry. Everyone should know you are asking for this, whore.”
“Sure. I’m fine… I’ll let you in later, Maria.” Denise smiled proudly at sharing his shame. It wouldn’t be the last time.
“Well, poor little pervert got heard by the help, huh? Don’t worry, the way I have things planned YOU’LL be the help before long in the office.” She dug her nails into his chest to emphasize her point.
“God, please, no, Miss…”
“Hm… I told you I would explain the use of the word ‘No’ to you, didn’t I, bitch?”
The fear in his eyes as he looked up at his new owner was unmistakable.
The next day started early for Danny. As she had explained in the final moments of him being conscious, Denise was going to siphon off every one of Danny’s accounts and client roster. He resisted at first but his belt went red from his own blood as she clarified his new life.
This first day of servitude might just be the longest of his life.
I arrive home, exhausted and frazzled from another 10-hour shift. I tromp through the snow and force my legs to propel me up the steps, stamping the snow off of my boots as I go. Swinging open the apartment door, I set down my laptop bag with a heavy sigh and slam the door behind me. I take off my boots and walk over to the fridge, grabbing the carton of orange juice and pouring myself a glass, when I hear: “Slave!” the harsh, angry voice of my Mistress resounds in my ears like a slap to the face. “Why did you not present yourself to me as soon as you arrived?” She stands in the doorway from the living room, glaring at me. Immediately, I drop to my knees, “I’m sorry, Mistress. I forgot what day it was.” It’s true, I really had forgotten. Between the long hours I’d been working and the constant wetness of my pussy, everything blurred together and each day seemed identically exhausting, identically frustrating. I realize that it had also been exactly one month tonight since my last orgasm. Of all nights, this is not the night to make such errors.
Find kinky people around “I don’t want to hear your excuses, slave.” Her voice is quieter, this time, but she sounds deeply annoyed, which I sometimes think is worse than angry, and she twists an extra layer of disdain into the word “slave.” I wait, on my knees, eyes downcast. She walks across the kitchen, ignoring me, and grabs a measuring cup from the cupboard. She strides leisurely over to the 20-pound bag of rice in the corner and unclips the bag clips holding it shut. Without so much as glancing in my direction, she commands me, matter-of-factly, “Strip.” I rise to my feet and begin to remove my shirt. “I did not direct you to stand, slave.” The chill in her voice makes me shudder as I force my knees back to the floor. I unbutton my shirt, removing it and folding it beside me, then unhooking my bra and gently easing it off, trying not to brush the itchy, mesh fabric too much against my swollen nipples and the welts all over my breasts from last night. Then I awkwardly slip my pants and panties off, squirming on the floor to remain kneeling while pushing my slacks around my knees. I lean back, arching my back, to disentangle them from my ankles. As I’m bent over backward, nervously trying to finish removing my panties, Mistress walks over and stands in front of me, staring down at me as I feel my cheeks flush with embarrassment. Hope wells up in my chest at seeing her smile for the first time this evening. “You look like you need some help, slave,” her voice takes on a sweet, musical, mocking tone. “Hold still.” She laughs lightly, but I know that it’s an order. I tense my muscles, pulling my body taut and forcing myself to look at the ceiling as I feel her hands grasp my left nipple and push it between the plastic jaws on the first bag clip. She quickly does the same to the other as I bite my lower lip, trying desperately to keep my muscles rigid and still. I can feel her eyes carefully inspecting her work, noting that the clip on my left nipple is biting into one of my welts as well as squeezing my nipple mercilessly. She grabs the handle of a clip in each hand and tugs them, “Stand.” I struggle to obey quickly as she pulls the clamps just a little faster than I can move my body, the warmth of pain emanating from my nipples over the whole of my breasts. “Thank you, Mistress.” She chuckles evilly, as I hear her dip the measuring cup, which I had forgotten about, into the rice and scatters it on the floor in front of me. She stares at the floor, idly playing with the clip on my right nipple. She decides to pour a few more scoops of rice onto the floor. “Now, kneel.” She tugs the clips on my nipples downward and I follow them, bending my knees until her hands stop with my legs bent at a 45-degree angle, and she holds them still. I pause, wondering what to do. “May I kneel, please, Mistress?” I ask. “I told you to kneel, slave. Why are you so slow to obey tonight?” “But, I can’t kneel with where you’re holding the clips, Mistress,” I protest, confused. “That, slave, is incorrect. You can kneel perfectly well. And you will, now.” Her tone was sharp, this time, and finally understanding, I let my knees drop to the floor, pulling the rest of my body downwards and yanking my nipples out of the clips. I grit my teeth as the pain shoots through my nipples and the grains of rice press into the flesh of my legs. “Stay there.”
Let the brush torture continue in the bedroom
She leaves the room. I wait, knees and tits sore, cunt dripping wet and aching. I don’t know for how long. Finally, she comes back into the kitchen. “Stand up.” I rise unsteadily, “Thank you, Mistress.” She smirks and grabs me by the hair, yanking on it and pulling me, stumbling after her, into the bedroom. I stare longingly at the silk sheets on her bed, but she releases my hair and orders me to lie on my stomach on the floor. The rough, itchy carpet chafes my sore tits as Mistress straddles me. “Keep your forehead on the floor. Your hair is a mess. It’s a good thing I just got a new hairbrush.” I hold my forehead obediently on the floor as Mistress begins to pull a hairbrush through my hair. I sigh contentedly and relax, grateful for the gentleness she shows me. “Thank you, Mistress.” Mistress pulls the brush through my hair again, this time pressing the bristles against my scalp, along the back of my neck, and down my spine. It tingles and I shiver a little. Mistress gets to her feet and tells me to lie on my back on the bed. I do as I am told and Mistress lies down beside me. “Keep your palms flat on the bed, slut.” I smile as she calls me a slut. She only uses words other than “slave” for me when she’s pleased. Slowly, she begins dragging the bristles of the hairbrush over the tops of my breasts. It tickles at first, and I press my lips together, holding back a giggle. Mistress notices and begins to press harder, though still moving the brush achingly slowly across my skin, now down the side of my left breast and along the underside, then up across the center of my chest, over the top of my right breast, down the side and under, then back across the chest. The tiny, light red lines traced by the bristles form an infinity symbol; the regularity of the pattern helps me to melt into the pain as Mistress gradually moves the brush harder and faster. The pattern breaks as she starts circling my left breast, spiraling the brush slowly inward. I grit my teeth as my Mistress rakes the bristles across my welts, getting closer and closer to my sore nipple. I brace myself against the inevitable, as she skims my aureole and she pauses, observing the strain in my face. She stares into my eyes, “Are you enjoying yourself, slut?” I gaze up at her and swallow nervously, “I’m enjoying your enjoyment of me, Mistress.” She flashes me a wolfish grin. The answer is the same every time, but she never tires of hearing it. She knows that it’s true. My eyes are still locked in hers as she drags the brush across my nipple suddenly. I let out a sharp cry and she smiles cruelly, scrubbing the brush back and forth across my nipple. I struggle to keep my palms flat against the bed and take deep breaths, punctuated by my occasional involuntary cries and whimpers. She stops, and I gasp for breath, trying to regain my composure. Then she moves her attention to my right breast, following the same intricate procedure, but the spiraling is slower this time. The memory of pain fresh in my mind muscles tense, I wait. Occasionally, she deviates from the routine to give a little special attention to my larger welts, grating the bristles against them and admiring her artwork, “This one is nice. Riding crops leave quite lovely marks, don’t they?” “Yes, Mistress.” A jolt of pain sears through me as she unexpectedly drags the brush roughly across my nipple. I scream; I wasn’t expecting it this time. The music of her laughter makes me wet, even as my nipple burns with pain under the relentless bristles. I am moaning and my shoulders twitch. She pauses again, “Are you ready for something different?” she asks. I am terrified and curious, “Yes, Mistress, if it would please you.” She drags the brush softly, lightly, down my belly and through my bush. “My, you’re wet,” she comments with taunting nonchalance as I feel the bristles catch, stuck near the end of the stroke in my cum-slicked pubes. Before I can respond, she yanks the brush free, pulling a bit of hair along with it. I yell, “Yes, Mistress.” She flips the brush over in her hand and smacks my vulva with the back of the head of the brush several times. I whimper as she smacks my swollen pussy lips with the brush, gasping for breath when she finally stops. “Do you like my new toy?” “Yes, Mistress.” “Then let me show you my favorite feature of it.” She clicks a small switch on the handle that had escaped my notice until now. The brush vibrates.
I really really need to cum now
She presses the back of the brush against my vulva and I moan in pleasure. She rubs it slowly back and forth against my aching mound. “Do you like this, whore?” I savor the edge of derision in her voice. “Yes, Mistress.” “Spread your legs wider, bitch.” I gladly open my legs as far as I can, my wet pussy lips parting, and she slides the quivering handle of the brush between my labia, running it softly up and down the length of my cleft, just fast enough that it doesn’t touch anyone points for too long. I shiver every time it glides over my clit, biting my lip and longing for the sensation to linger, but she makes sure that my craving remains unsatisfied. The pleasure makes me tingle all over. Maybe tonight. Maybe this time she will let me cum. I lie still, gazing at the intent focus on my Mistress’ face, trying to hold my legs still, so as not to irritate her. She rubs more slowly, finally letting the handle of the brush rest lightly on my clit. I can tell that she is listening intently to the moans, sighs, and gasps rising unbidden from my lips, calculating how close I’m getting. My clit throbs as I approach the edge, expecting her to pull the brush away, but she doesn’t. Maybe tonight. “May I cum, please, Mistress?” I ask meekly. “Not yet, slave. You must wait. I will tell you when you may cum.” “Yes, Mistress.” I force myself to hold still, wanting desperately to grind against the brush. I’m getting steadily closer and she shows no sign of stopping the stimulation, and I can tell that she does not intend to give me permission to cum yet. I feel myself reaching the edge and panic begins to tighten in my chest. I’m terrified that I might cum without permission. “Please stop, Mistress. I can’t hold back much longer.” “But slave, I’m so much enjoying this new brush.” She purses her lips in thought, “I suppose I could go back to using it on your tits if that’s what you’d prefer.” She presses down on my clit, bringing me to the teetering edge of orgasm, seconds from the climax, and I pant desperately, “Yes, please, Mistress.” She pulls the brush away from my aching clit, savoring the expression on my face, contorted with fear and frustrated desire. “Very well.” The bristles go straight to my nipples, first the left and then the right. She rubs them viciously as I scream at the sudden onset of pain. I grip the sheets reflexively, seeking an anchor to keep myself still. “Palms flat!” she snaps at me, rapping my knuckles hard with the back of the brush. I immediately straighten my fingers and gasp, “I’m sorry, Mistress.” Without comment, she drags the bristles leisurely across my breasts in a long, meandering design, never lifting the bristles off my skin. Gradually, she increases the pace until she is scouring my breasts roughly. I wail in pain, “Please, no more, Mistress, please.” She pauses and smiles, clicking the switch on the hairbrush and beginning to rub the handle along the length of my pussy again. I take long, deep, ragged breaths, trying to calm my arousal. I love and dread the sensation, craving it and fearing its power to push me into disobedience. I try to think of something, anything other than the vibrator moving back and forth over my clit, sending pulses of pleasure through me. I try to ignore the sensation and begin to count the Fibonacci series in my head. 1, 2, 3, 5…it feels so good. 8, 13, 21, 34…I’m craving, I desire, I love. 55, 89, 144, 233…want it so much. 377, 610, 987, 1597…desperation. 1597…1597…desperation, desperation, desperation, desperation. I can’t keep count and this word is becoming my new mantra. I’m getting too close. “Please, may I cum, Mistress?” I plaintively ask. Her lips wrap slowly and cruelly around her response, “No.” She pauses, smiles sweetly, and adds, “And stop asking for it. I will tell you when you may.” I quickly stammered, “Yes, Mistress. I’m sorry, Mistress. Thank you, Mistress.” She nods in approval. “Then will you please stop teasing me, Mistress?” I glance up at her, hoping that she will show mercy to me. “Are you sure, slave?” I know in an instant that she does not plan to be merciful. “If I take the brush off your wet cunt, it will have to go back to your sore tits.” Continuing to rub the brush against my clit, she lightly pinches my left nipple with her other hand. I yelp. “You only have two options, slave: pleasure or pain.” “Pain, please, Mistress.” I force the words from my throat, voice shaking. “Please, hurt me, Mistress. I can’t hold myself back anymore.” She pulls the brush away from my crotch and moves it back to my breasts, scraping the bristles against them as I wince and shudder and scream. My throat feels almost as raw as my breasts. I have lost all sense of time, but I know that the length of time I can stand either form of stimulation is growing shorter. I struggle to endure the grating bristles of the brush on my tender nipples for as long as possible, but I soon must relent. “Please, no more pain, Mistress. Please tease me instead, Mistress.” Back to the wonderful, tempting warmth of pleasure. I know I won’t be able to stand it long this time. I stare at my bright red tits, my skin raw, and then glance up at my Mistress’ cruel, deeply amused smile. She moves the vibrating handle of the brush back and forth gently, slowly across my clit. Even this light stimulation has me nearing the edge in what feels like less than a minute. I’m terrified of having to endure more pain and I am terrified of displeasing my Mistress. The tension of conflicting fears and conflicting desires torment me and I feel tears beginning to trail down my cheeks. I’m so close to orgasm, “Please, hurt me, Mistress” I whimper. “Please, I’m on the edge, Mistress. Please, hurt me.” She holds the brush against my clit and leans over me, whispering into my ear, “Cum for me.”
Looking for a mistress near ?
I am awash in pure joy as I am finally allowed to let the pleasure surge through me. I feel weightless, overwhelmed by bliss, and it seems to go on forever. I realize that my eyes are closed and I open them. Mistress smiles down at me and softly strokes my hair. I don’t have words yet, but she can read the gratitude on my face. She kisses me lightly on the forehead and folds her arms around my still trembling body. I am exhausted, and happy, and very much in love.
The two women were in good spirits that evening. It had been six months since Dee had left the law firm she once worked at with Lori to start out on her own. This night on the town had been the first chance they had to get together since.
“It’s been such a relief really being able to get in touch with myself, and what I truly want to be doing with my life” the brunette replied with a devilish grin.
“It can be a lot to handle on one’s own” Lori went on, watching her friend rifle through her purse with a key. She was surprised to hear Dee burst into laughter at the serious comment. “What?” she demanded when Dee finally started to regain her composure.
“Well, I was going to surprise you, but I have had some help with that” Dee answered jiggling the keys she managed to fish from her purse. “Remember how I told you I used to like to be a controlling domme in the bedroom?”
“Yeah….” Lori cut in, adjusting her glasses, and crossing her arms in a stance of exaggerated interest.
Shaking off some of the drinks from earlier, Dee looked suddenly serious. She fluffed her curly brown hair and straightened her form-fitting brown dress, steadying herself on her heels. Eying seriously towards the door she unlocked it and entered.
Standing to the side of the door, rigidly upright, was a young man clothed in nothing but a black nylon thong. His long brown hair fell down around his neckline which was affixed with an unadorned black collar. Below the neckline, his body had been shorn smooth. Staring straight ahead the boy held out his hands, palms up.
“Oh my god, you went and got yourself a boytoy!” Now Lori’s turn to laugh, the raven-haired woman snorted as she crossed the apartment’s threshold. “ …and you’re robbing the cradle too I see” she chuckled closing the door an eyeing the young man more closely.
Far from being unattractive, Dee was a mature woman of her late forties. Her face was unlined, and the body between that form-fitting dress had slight plumpness that came with the years. The boy, on the other hand, Lori wouldn’t have pegged for being a day past 25.
“He’s actually in his early thirties, believe it or not” Dee countered handing the boy her purse. “Guess the years are kinder to the boytoys” she said with a dry smirk.
“Fetch Lady Lori and I some coffee” Dee remarkly curtly to the boy as she passed into the Living to find a spot for her and her friend on the white leather couches.
Sitting down in her black skirt and crossing her legs. Lori stared bemused, gazing over the rooms eating counter into the open kitchen beyond where the nearly naked man went about brewing coffee for her. “So is this boytoy also your….boyfriend?”
Actually, he is my slave
“God no!” Dee snorted within easy earshot of the boy. “But he is my slave”
Adjusting her glasses and leaning back, Lori looked back to Dee for more explanation.
“A true honest to god slave” she laughed as if that covered it. “He cooks, he cleans, during the day he’s my paralegal, whatever I want”
Lori giggled. “A paralegal….ha” She put her hand up to her mouth. “ Does he wear his little man-thong when he’s fetching you your files” the dark-haired woman jested, her slender cheekbones contorted in a mirthful grin.
“Of course” Dee replied eyeing as the boy rounded the counter with a tray holding two mugs of coffee. “I’ve taken all his clothing, except the thong and collar” she said still staring, delighting in making the boy a little nervous. “I never gave him a key to the place, so he pretty much can’t go anywhere unless I say anyway, so why bother?”
She reached out as the boy handed her a mug. “Half the reason I keep the little bitch around is to watch him shake that tight little ass anyway” punctuating the remark Dee slapped the boy on his butt cheek with her free hand drawing a shocked breathe as he maintained the tray with the other mug.
Handing off the mug, the redfaced boy returned the tray to the kitchen, before returning to the seating group to stand upright and await instruction.
As he approached Lori noted an unusual square bulge in the boy’s thong.
“You don’t say much do you?”, she said looking up from the bulge to meet his eyes” he looked to Dee.
“Answer Lady Lori boy” Dee nodded smiling.
He turned back to Lori, his face reddening as he tried to maintain eye contact with the woman. “Boy bitches are better seen than heard, my Lady” he managed to say through his embarrassment with practiced control.
“Oh my god….” Lori exclaimed lightly.
Dee just laughed. “What can I say, I got him trained well.”
“Do I even want to know what’s in his pants” Lori gasped reflecting on the unusual bulge.
“Why that’s the best part” Dee exclaimed. “I keep my little boytoy all locked up”.
A look of longing fell across the boys face.
“Boy, tell Lady Lori why little boytoys should be locked up” the woman remarked, pouncing on the boy’s discomfort.
“Boy bitches don’t deserve to cum my Lady, they serve only at a Woman’s pleasure” he recited swallowing hard.
Rising Dee smiled to her friend as she went and stood before the quivering boy. “Of course you know he doesn’t mean that she said turning from her friend to the boy”. Slowly she ran her fingers down the sides of the boy’s body. “I’m sure it drives him crazy, almost never being allowed to cum” she watched as the boy swallowed hard in trepidation at her touch.
Locking her eyes on the boys she continued. “Being so needy for release, electrified at the slightest touch” she cooed sliding her hands down to the side of his hips. “I’m sure his body must be screaming at times” her hands found his ass. “But I also like watching him suffer” squeezing his ass she directed the comment to her friend, but kept her eyes locked on his. “Knowing how much he must be yearning for me” she said slowly with a wolfish grin. “How desperately eager he is to keep me happy”.
Sitting, Dee crossed her legs and nodded to a dangling foot. Following her cue, the boy knelt and began to massage her foot. “My boybitch doesn’t go out carousing the bar’s like real men his age.” Picking her mug off the side table she took a sip. “My boybitch waits attentively to serve me, and only me, his natural superior”
“His natural superior?” Laughing, Lori interrupted. “Well, your highness” she smiled standing and looking down at the scene. “This…” she gestured comically at the scene before her “is quite interesting, and all but I really should be getting home.”
The two women rose and exchanged farewells, as Dee showed Lori to the door. Easing the door shut she rounded on the boy. “Go to the bedroom, get my clips, cuffs, and the thick leather belt on the dresser”
Play time
Dee bade the slave on to kneel on the living room floor upon returning. “What do you think Lady Lori thought of us boy?” she asked cuffing his hands behind his back.
“I think she was surprised my Lady” the boy replied uncertainly what sort of answer his Lady was looking for.
“I think you’re right boy” she laughed, fixing the clips to his nipples. “That hurt..” she whispered gently.
The boy nodded slightly.
“Good” she laughed tugging on the chain between them evincing a gasp from her captive. “She thought I was joking when I told her I was your natural superior, did you think I was joking boy?” she asked stroking his hair.
“No my Lady” he responded quickly as his Lady expected. “Boybitches are born to serve their natural superiors” he stammered coming up with the expected response, as he watched the mature woman slide her wet panties down beneath her dress.
“I’m glad you agree boy” she smiled stuffing the moist garment into his mouth, “because it’s true.” Picking up the belt and stretching it between her fists she circled behind him. “I’m smarter then you” she snapped the belt “I make more money than you” letting the belt drop with one hand she let it caress the boys back. “though to be fair I don’t actually pay you anything” she smirked. “I’m stronger than you” she said suddenly, yanking the boys cuffed wrists up so that is forehead went to the carpeted floor and his ass to the air.
“I can beat you whenever I please” With a sudden swing she belted his bare ass eliciting a muffled grunt from the boy. She laughed striking again. “Do you like that boy?” she said louder with another whack. He squealed as she struck again, and again. “You know other men your age are out seducing there dates, so they can take them home and fuck them” she laughed hitting again. “Here you sit, with your balls locked up desperate to clean my toilet and scrub my counters” Taking another swing she admired his reddened ass. “If that doesn’t make me you inferior to women I don’t know what would.”
Pulling her panties from his mouth she took a seat on the couch. “and you love it” she laughed. “having an older woman cut your balls off, tell you when to piss” she looked at him fondly, as he rose back to his knees. “A natural born bitch!” she chuckled, “Tell me, bitch, tell me about My balls” she grinned at her handy work, as the shaking, bruised boy looked to the ground red and shamed.
“A boybitches balls belong to his Lady. They are nothing but ornamentation, a Lady’s property to be locked away and use as She sees fit” he stammered.
“and would my little boybitch ever like to play with My balls again?” She queried leaning forward.
A desperate glimmer filled the boys eyes, as he shuddered. He was about to answer when Dees laughter cut him off.
Leaning back Dee sighed as she regained her composure. “Boybitches are better seen than heard” she said, her brown dress rustling as she spread her legs.
Hands still cuffed, shuffling forward on his knees, the boy nestled between Dee’s plump thighs. Her musky scent filled his nostrils, as she heaved a leg over his shoulder and pushed him deeper against her.
Whap! Dee swatted a folder against the boy’s bare ass as he passed by.
“This one too” she said handing off the file to her slave. “Put it with the others.”
Finishing off the workday at a desk in her study, Dee was casually attired for a day spent working at home. Tight-fitting bluejeans hugged the frame of her plump thighs and curvy buttocks, while a loose maroon-colored tee-shirt covered her stomach and bosom. Her curly brown hair lacked any formal teasing she would usually employee when she was out in court or meeting clients.
“As it pleases you my Lady” he replied taking the folder and making his way to the lateral cabinet at the side of Dee’s study.
“That’s a good little boybitch” Dee muttered, almost to herself, as she clicked away at her keyboard finishing up the letter she was typing. “and that…about… does it” she concluded finishing up the last few words and saving the document. Swiveling in her chair she turned from her desk to observe the boy.
Forgoing the thong, she had him working naked today with exception to the ever-present collar and chastity device she kept on him. A wry grin on her lips, she took in his bare ass as he thumbed through the Pendaflex folders looking for the proper section. Upon closing the drawer he turned and saw her watching him. His cock twitched, straining against its confines, as it did often of late upon the observation. Dee’s grin widened.
I don’t want to cum!
“Remind me again, how long it’s been since I gave my little boytoy some release” she queried finding pleasure in the boys constant sexual frustration.
“Twenty days my Lady” he replied with a gulp.
“Twenty days” she mused leaning forward in her chair. “Good” Dee concluded. “I like you this way, all needy and desperate” she giggled. “I’d swear, the less I let you cum the more focused you seem to be on serving me. Wouldn’t you agree boy?”
“Yes, my Lady” the boy replied knowing Dee expected him to agree with her.
“It’s the way it should be.” Dee paused standing up and approaching the boy. “From now on when I ask you if you’d like to cum, I want you to say no and thank me for taking your little cock from you. Can you do that for me sweet little boytoy hmm..?” she instructed, a smile on her lips as she reaches down to fondle the boy’s balls.
“Yes, my Lady” the younger man replied with a quiver.
“Good” the woman concluded perkily. “You’ve been doing good with your protocols, it’s important you know” she said rubbing her hands slowly on his chest.
“It’s how I start to control my little boybitches mind” the older woman admonished, an almost feral grin upon her face. “My poor little boytoy” she whispered continuing her rubbing. “All cut off from the outside world, so horney and needy” smiling she looks up from his chest to meet the boys gaze. “Would my little cubby like to cum, hmmm….?”
“No my Lady” he gulped.
Eyes locked on his Dee met his reply with patient silence.
“Thank you, my Lady, for taking my cock away” he finished reddening with the reply.
But I do want to orgasm
“With a little time and practice, you’ll come to believe that” she winked. “Now, it’s been a long afternoon and I could use a little action from your sweet little ass” stepping suddenly to his side Dee slapped her hand down hard on the boy’s buttcheek. “Bedroom, slut” she barked playfully, following as the boy made his way down the condos short hall past the living room and bathroom to the bedroom at it’s opposite end.
Entering the room behind the boy, Dee flicked the light switch and shut the door. She beckoned, with her finger, as her slave turned expectantly to her for instruction.
Without warning, she grabbed her naked prisoner and shoved him to the wall. Hands feeling all up and down his body, Dee seized her lips upon the boys slipping her tongue into his mouth for a savage forceful kiss. A bite lingering as she pulled back from the boys lips, she put her hands on the boy’s shoulders and backed towards the bed guiding him as she went. “That’s a good little cubby, come to mama” she whispered.
Pushing the boy to his knees, Dee took a seat at the edge of the bed. Thrusting her right foot forward, her slave took the hint and slide her socks off. Repeating with her right, the woman loosened her belt had him slide off her jeans.
Rising to her feet, the boy barely had time to slide back to keep from being knocked on his back as Dee thrust the crotch of her panties into his face. Pressed close to her wetness the boy looked up to his Lady for approval, his hands grazing up her bare fleshy thighs to remove the garment.
“No hands” she countered curtly. Watching with satisfaction as her slave used his teeth to wrest the silky fabric over the curve of her ass and down her legs. Barely raising her ankle by only a few inches she made her servant double over with his face almost to the floor to slide them off.
Rising on his knees the boy looked to Dee, the wet garment still hanging from his mouth.
Nearly laughing at the sight, Dee snagged the panties from him and flung them across the room. “Upon the bed boytoy,” she said patting the mattress. “ I want your knees bent, and feet flat against the headboard, your head about here” pointing she indicated a spot at the beds center.
“That’s good” the older woman affirmed watching her naked captive get into position. “Right where you belong” heaving a thick thigh over his head Dee straddled the boys face and pinned his hands down at the wrists. Weight of her body strengthening her grasp, Dee settled in sliding her legs towards the foot of the bed, forcing her moist genitals upon the boy. “Eat it” she ordered as the boy struggled to move his knees bent perpendicular to the oak headboard.
“Mmmm that’s a good little bitch” she cooed as her slave lapped, and licked at her glistening pussy. “Ooooo yeah, that’s it bitch make mama cum” closing her eyes Dee focused on the sensation. “Yes, mmm that’s it” opening them she looked at the boys caged cock, pulsing and contracting as it struggled in its clear sheath. The sight of it only intensified her excitement.
Shifting forward to her knees, Dee sat half up withdrawing her pussy from the reach of her boys tongue and pushing the soft lobes of her ass close against his face. “Mmmm…my asshole bitch” she murmured enveloping the boys face beneath her cheeks, freeing one hand to finger herself. “Deeper you slut” she breathed as the prone boy probed her with his tongue. “Yes…yes” she crescendoed, climaxing as her slave worked away.
Panting to herself, Dee sat back in full smothering the boy fully as she caught her breath. Moments passed as Dee smiled to herself with satisfaction. A shake from the boy and a spasm from his arms prompted the woman to slide forward so the boy could gasp for air.
“That was good” breaking the silence Dee leaned forward and caressed the smooth plastic of the boy’s chastity device. “Such a good little boytoy” she cooed touching the cool metal of the tiny lock holding the contraption in place. “Such a good thing you did for mama, perhaps my little boybitch deserves a nice reward, wouldn’t you like that” looking lovingly at the cock cage she awaited the boys reply.
“Yes, my Lady” the boy replied his voice his muffled against her pussy.
“How would my boy like some release, hmmm…” she giggled sitting back up on her knees and pulling her ass up from the boys face.
“Please my Lady!” the boy exclaimed eagerly.
“That’s it? just one please” she scoffed. “Is that any way for a boy bitch to beg his Lady?”
“Please, please please, my Lady!” he countered, longing in his voice.
“Mm, hmm. And is my little boytoy getting desperate” she laughed. “Be honest boy.”
“Yes my Lady. It’s driving me crazy. Please, my Lady. I’m so horney every waking moment, please my Lady” he cried with desperation.
“Awe, my sweet little cubby; but I like you that way…. all naked and horney and eager to please” she mocked. “And don’t little boybitches kiss asses when they beg” she twittered shaking her round behind just above him.
“Please my Lady, mmph. Please please, mmph. Please please let me cum mmphh.” The boy urged between pecks on his Goddesses cheeks.
“Better” she smiled pausing for a moment as though considering the boy’s cries.
Sobering, she began to undulate her hips with her words, smacking her bare buttocks against the boys face. “How… many times… do… I have to… tell you” she lectured. “You…belong…down… here.” Sounding suddenly stern, she stopped. “Now I’ll ask you again. Would my little boytoy like to cum?”
“No my Lady” the boy responded dejected, remembering the reply his Lady expected.
“Mmhmm” Dee prompted, with an ominous silence.
“Th..thank you my Lady” the boy finished shakily. “Thank you for taking away my cock.”
I would like to start from the beginning. I am a 43 yr old man; fit for
my age, not bad on the eyes or so I am told. I have visited Pro Dommes
since my early 20’s. I have a need for pain. Like all the rest of us, I
search the sites to fill this need. It took me several months to
contact Mistress Ella. I like pain, but she made me nervous. She is
very direct to the point of feeling she could see through me, right
into my monitor, which explains why I never even looked at her profile
until I was naked and kneeling. That has been her effect on me.
My first contact with her was just as direct as her profile. Rules she
didn’t ask but demanded were obeyed. She made it clear she would end
all contact should I FAIL.
Mistress Ella was more than happy to also give me her requirements
should she allow me to submit to her. She had me and I knew it.
I booked a 2 hr session with her the following Friday after work. Work
seemed to drag on. I spent my lunch not eating, but shopping for a
gift. It just felt right. I had not even met Mistress Ella yet, but
she was deep in my brain. Just her name coming up made my raging cock
feel like it could pound nails. But no joke I was nervous. I knew she
was a mature lady. There would be no frills. I was there for her
control and pleasure. She expected 110% of my attention.
A week of denial
I stopped home for a quick cleaning out and a shower. I had a 40-minute
drive from my house to Mistress Ella’s play space. I was nervous and
I so badly wanted to touch my cock. I wanted it throbbing in my hand. I
wanted to feel the silky pre-cum dripping down my hand, before running
it across my tongue. I was given strict instructions not to touch for
the whole week. It was the hardest week, as I jerk off 4-5 times a day.
I pulled into the parking lot and scanned for her apt. For a minute I
didn’t know if my legs would carry me. My palms were soaked with sweat.
With gift and card in hand, I took a deep breath and started in her
direction. A knock at the door, and a short wait that felt like an
hour, the door opened. I was barely in the door when I was pushed to
the floor. For the first time I heard her voice, not soft and sweet,
but with a harshness to it, firm. I quickly drop to the floor and
picked one foot up to kiss it. I waited for the next direction to the
other foot. Then I heard her instructing me to follow her. We passed
one door to the left that was a bathroom. She reached behind me and
closed the door. In this small hall, she ordered me to undress, as she
walked away. I carried my clothes into the room, now more like a crawl
and push inching my clothes from of me. She told me to hand her the
clothes, then she said you might get these back, or I might send you
out in a towel. my mind raced, was she kidding? How would I be able to
stop her? I was scared and my cock being the slut I taught it to be,
started bobbing. In seconds I felt a burning slap across my cock and
balls. I loved the feeling of it moving through me. I wanted another.
From the corner of my eye, I watched as she moved around the room, I was
not able to see much to the back or side to me. I felt what I thought
might be a cage. It would not be long before I knew I was correct.
Mistress Ella attached a cold heavy cuff to my wrist. I was here and
it was really going to happen. I was going to allow her to do anything
she wants with me. Next went on the leg irons, cold and heavy. She
attached my legs to the cage spreading them as far apart as possible.
Next were my wrists, above my head, she attached them to something
behind me. I was then placed in a high posture collar keeping my head
straight, not able to move.
Mistress was behind me, I could hear things moving, but could see
nothing. Next, I was blindfold. I was helpless, I couldn’t move, I
couldn’t see, and without my realizing soon I would not be able to
hear. I was closed off to all my senses, helpless. So why was my damn
cock bobbing again? This time the pain was not her hand but the
stinging of a whip of some kind.
Extreme CBT
I could feel Mistress Ella moving as she brushed against me. Then I
could feel it, something grabbing my skin, then another. I could not
keep count as the pain ran down my chest to the bottom of my thigh,
then to the back of my ball sack. The heat was starting to fill my body,
a wonderful painful heat. I so badly wanted to see her face, her eyes,
but I was in this darkness, with only my mind and the pain. She stopped
and I could only guess what was to come next, but not for long, as I
felt this cold rush over my nipples, and then shooting fire to both
nipples as she twisted, pressed, and pulled. I was beginning to melt
into the pain. It was coming from all over my body. I want to scream
thank you, Ma’am. Still, there would be more. I could feel her long
nails running down my cock, my balls. I wanted both, I tried to scream
more… hard. They are yours, mistress. Then it stopped… nothing. Where
had she gone? My brain was screaming for her not to stop, come back,
but nothing.
Then a pain I had not felt before. Mistress was stroking me with
the needle, I thought, caressing my cock with sadistic stroke. Each awaking
me to her touch as she tightened her grasp. As the needle broke my
skin, I was falling in love with Mistress. Her stokes were working. i
was hard. i could not move but surely i was dripping like a fresh
rain, stroked until i was almost ready to explode. Then Mistress
slapped my cock and balls and it ended. my mind as pleading for her not
to stop.
WOW, a sting, it rocked me to my core. Over and over again my cock and
balls were on fire. There would be no mercy for me. Her words echoed in
my head. I don’t know how long it lasted. When she stopped, she was
back stroking my cock with the needle. This time when they twisted and
pulled my cock, I closed my eyes behind the blindfold and drank it all
in. As she moved so did the pain shooting down my body. Again she took
me to the edge, again I was screaming to go on. My request would go
without my wish to be filled.
She took my hard member into her hand I could feel something tight
going around my cock, then around my waist. I could feel my cock
pressing on my stomach. She was doing the same to my balls, pulling
them hard and tight. She ran her nail deep into both of my balls. She
was taking ownership of them. I gulped and then another. my body was
fire. The pain took over my MIND. She was whipping me. I could only see
her in my mind’s eye, she was laughing at each lash. She moved all
over my body. my mind was dizzy, my head spinning. The leather cut
through my skin. I could feel what I knew was my blood running down
me. She would stop and squeeze each ball, and dig her nails into them.
THEN PUNCHING, over and over again, then whipping.
my legs were weak. my body was not my own any longer. She moved the
whip with skill and pleasure, I was sure of that. She moved down to my
legs, my chest, every inch of me was a wave of fire.
My mind wondered how long was I in this position. I prayed not long, I
didn’t want her to stop. I wanted the whip to crave each lash into my
body, each an evil kiss. Deep breath… oh the pain, the wonderful pain,
as the whip smashed into the other nipple clamps. I prayed I would not
throw up. The pain was intense. She pinched each nipple then put the
clamps back on. She continued to whip, covering every inch of my body.
Suddenly she stopped. Was it over? Had the two hours passed? Oh, how I
wished it wasn’t over. Then without a breath, a ragging pain flowed
through my body. From my chest to my feet, the pain left nothing that
was missed. Quick, quiet, it was gone. Every piece she put on my chest,
ball sac, and thigh was ripped off. All that remained was flashes of
pain flooding over my body, spreading with no mercy. There was that
word again. I wanted to thank her. I felt her let my arms drop to my
side, next my legs were able to move. Would they hold me up? She put a
bottle to my mouth, I drank, gladly willing to take in each drop.
She took the bottle away. When would she remove the collar? When could
I see these wonderful marks, my badge of honor? I didn’t cry, I didn’t
move, I took it. All of it.
Without a word she spun me around, my arms now stretched before me. my
legs again were locked in. She moved the headphone of one ear, and
whispered, you didn’t think I was done, did you? I could say nothing,
but in my mind, I was smiling. She gave me more than I expected, and I
loved every minute.
She pushed my head forward, as much as I could, in the collar. I took
a deep breath. I lost count after 103 lashes. When I came to, she
removed the collar, the blindfold, and my arms.
you did a nice job. Don’t move I need to put something on your back for
the cut, I jumped, and held those bars so tight I could have lifted the
steel cage. I wanted the burning to stop as I smelled the alcohol fill
the room, Her hand sliding across my tender skin. When things calmed
down and I could stand, my eyes lowered, and I went to my knees to kiss
her feet and thank her. Ma’am, I hope my body did not disappoint you.
She said would you like to see my work. Yes Ma’am, I would please.
K wasn’t sure what to wear; she was distracted, and less certain of herself than usual. This wasn’t unexpected, she’d been thinking about this evening for two months now. She tried to focus again on her clothes, picking up her silken black suspenders, her tightly fitting corset and figure-hugging black dress. Was she really going to wear this to an interview? Leaving the clothes on her bed, she sat down by her vanity and toweled her hair dry. Her golden hair shimmered in the sunbeams as she tamed it. She smiled as she combed it, she’d always been so proud of her hair, and with good reason, as she’d been complimented on it as long as she could remember. Her golden skin offset her sky blue eyes. She was beautiful. Lost in her reverie, she glimpsed her bed through the mirrors eye. She frowned as the memory of two months ago came flooding back…
She’d been so excited; it had been her first interview for work since finishing her Master’s In Education from the prestigious University of Mainz. But not only that, it was for the sister college of Kolleg St. Blasien, the premier Gymnasium in the Upper Rhine region! She’d known she only had a little experience, but she’d worked and studied so hard, and for so long; finally, it was her chance to impress! She’d dressed impeccably, she’d thought at the time, in a light blue suit, high collared shirt and her hair tied back. Looking back she wondered if she’d sensed the slightly off-key atmosphere on arrival. Or was it a false memory, caused by the evening? For a start, there was the time, who had heard of an interview at eight in the evening? Yet she’d arrived promptly, ten minutes ahead of time. She’d look at the gothic knocker on the high black door for a moment before announcing herself. She’d been greeted by a friendly man, with a jovial, red face. He’d led her up three flights of red-carpeted stairs and into an ornate study…
Sitting at a large desk was a woman in a white dress. While the red-faced man had taken his seat beside her, K had taken a minute to study her interviewer. She was pale, with flowing black hair, and a look of concentration on her face as coolly regarded K. “Sit down”, she’d instructed, and K obeyed instinctively. She took her position on the small wooden chair across from them. She’d smiled at them, hoping to quell her nerves. It was returned by the red-faced man, who beamed at her; but not by the woman in white, who merely said, “Let us begin”.
Two intense hours of questions and answers followed. Whenever the man relaxed her with a joke or a supportive word, the woman would cut in and change the topic. Teaching strategies, phonology, her experiences with challenging students, her classroom management skills; all were examined and queried by the unrelenting pair. Her mouth grew dry, and her voice cracked slightly from the strain. Had she caught a hint of pleasure from the woman as she’d teased K with a sip from her iced goblet? Struggling to overcome her weariness she’d answered her last question, on the merits of Mark Twain as a social commentator, when she’d gotten her first shock…
“Would you like a drink?”
The voice resonated and reverberated from the leathered books on the walls. She’d turned with a start, licking her lips involuntarily. How had she not seen him? He’d stepped lightly out of the shadows by the window. She’d swallowed, almost painfully, as she’d seen him in the light.
He was tall, with black hair and piercing blue eyes, and he smiled at her consternation. Moving forward, she’d caught the flash of silver on his wrist as he extended his left hand to her. She still hadn’t said a word as his hands enveloped her soft, warm hands in a caressing handshake. She’d felt the hidden power of well-used muscles in his fingers and she swallowed once more.
“I don’t like to repeat myself, Miss K, but, since this is your first interview, I will. Would you like a drink?”
She’d nodded, and whispered, where had her voice gone?
“Yes”.
He’d smiled gently at her, let go her hands and returned with a silver goblet. She’d been greedy, gulped when she should have sipped. Warm, heady, honeyed alcohol ran through her like embers…
“Miss K”, he’d said, “you’re extremely intelligent, well-mannered and capable of dealing with…” he’d lingered for a split second before continuing, “demanding situations. But I require more from my staff. There is a power in life experiences that you need. A teacher needs to lead by example, and for studies and achievements, you will excel. However I don’t feel you’ve explored yourself fully, see the hidden depths within yourself, you’ve lived in the sunshine for too long, and you need to journey through the darkness to be a guide in the future. You need to experience pure pain, and with that pure pleasure in order to reveal you’re true nature.”
His words, the alcohol, and her tired mind had combined, she’d exclaimed, “what do you mean?”
Leaning forwards and taking her un-offered hands, he’d smiled again and said, “Come back at the same time in two months’, and I’ll both tell you and show you.” He’d lifted her then, raising her hands, and with it her, until she was looking up into his eyes. He’d guided her then, still holding her hands, until they stood at the doorway.
“The French believe a woman’s sensuality for the day begins with what they choose to wear; next time, wear clothing to match your true nature.” With those words, he’d opened the door, escorted her through and closed it behind her.
On her way home, her thoughts had jumbled together, a mix of flushed nerves, warmth, and a release of tension. What were pure pain and pleasure? She had had lovers, she knew what pleasure was; yet still the thoughts of accepting his guidance and control caused her pupils to dilate, her lips to open slightly and her breath to deepen. She wondered at his effect on her. And she thought, “Yes! This something I want to try. I’m young, free and I want to see where this will lead”.
Her hair was finished, it shimmered as she got up, cascading over her shoulders and down her back. She dressed with care, she wanted to impress him, but more than that, she had listened to his words since then, and yes, she had started to feel the sensuality of what she wore. She teased herself by wearing revealing, silken underwear to her friends’ parties. Her orgasms had become more intense as she’d imagined scenarios of his long fingers guiding her, she held motionless by his voice, motionless to his will in that room. She couldn’t pinpoint it, how could a voice and fingers cause such intense pleasure, for such a small loss of control? She’d tried to rationalize it in daylight, but by moonlight, her senses took over, and she went in to her darker half.
She was ready. Taking one last deep breath, she stepped out, into the night…
The test
She was admitted wordlessly, but not silently, the great bell clanging through the ancient testament to learning. She climbed the stairs in trepidation, not knowing what to expect when she entered the room. The door was ajar, and there was an expectant silence from within.
The room was similar, yet slightly different, from before. The same books lined the walls, the heavy curtains still let streams of light shine in, and the heavy desk still commanded her view. He sat behind it, fingers splayed on it, as he watched her approach. But there was no chair for her.
She approached steadily, watching him defiantly. She had mastered her fear, she was a daughter of the Moselle, with a lineage that stretched back to antiquity; she would not be cowed by a man for no reason, and certainly not for words spoken two months ago. She stood before him, crossed her arms and waited…
“Put your hands by your sides” he commanded. Her hands dropped, and her chin lifted slightly. He cocked his head to one side as he considered her poise and her beauty.
Her breasts pushed out against her corset, her thigh muscles were framed by her silken stockings and her glowing skin contrasted perfectly with her short, black cocktail dress. Her sun kissed hair silhouetted her voluptuous frame in gold and summer. ‘She was a perfect contradiction’, he thought to himself, the dark desires and the golden disposition.
“Are you willing to be trained?” he asked at last. She nodded an affirmation, but he frowned, and said, “Answer when you are asked a question. A nod can be involuntary, words have power”.
“Yes”, she replied.
“Yes, to what?” he queried, firmly yet gently. She knew he was guiding her voice. ‘Why this insistence on specifics’, she wondered.
“Yes, I am ready to be trained”, she answered…
“Frau Kaninchen, you’ve never been trained before, have you?”
“No Sir”, he frowned, “No, Sir, I’ve never been trained before”, she completed.
“Do you trust me?” he asked, looking deep in to her sapphire blue eyes.
She bit her lip briefly, “I don’t trust you yet…Sir”
“Then today we will work on trust; trust, obedience and control. Today, you will control your restraint, you will show me that you can, and will, obey me. And I will show you that I won’t pass your limit. Although I will test them” he added with a smile. It was infectious, she smiled back.
And then he was on his feet. He looked down at her, matching her unflinching gaze. She saw the icy glint in his fiery blue eyes, and she wondered, ‘was this a mistake?’…
“This is a Test. I’m going to hurt you, a lot. And it’s for you to decide when I stop. If you pass my number, then you pass the test and you will move in on Monday for two months. If you fail, then we will never see each other again. Do you agree?”
She gritted her teeth, looked back in to his eyes, and answered, “Yes, I agree.”
“Put your hands, palms down, fingers spread on the desk.”
She stepped forwards, and he immediately stopped her. “No, remain standing where you were.” She retreated and looked down; she was almost a metre from the desk. Carefully she stretched her arms out, ready to catch herself if she fell. Bending her knees she could reach it, and she did so.
“Straighten your legs.”
He was remorseless, she thought with a growing excited nervousness. She stood, balanced, her fingers flat to the dark wood and her head barely higher than her back.
“Arch your back, and look forward.” Directly across from her was a silver rimmed mirror and she could see herself outlined in it…
He reveled in her figure as he strode around her and the desk. Her skirt had ridden up her thighs, revealing the tops of her suspenders. He lifted it up above her delicate black underwear; her ass was heart shaped and perfect.
He waited a moment, drinking in the sumptuous view she presented. And she was aware of his desire, a smile escaped her lips. But the ice frosted his eyes, and he measured her will as he traced the outline of her silken buttocks with his fingertips. Her breathing deepened but she didn’t flinch from his touch.
“Count for me” he breathed in to her ear.
The first strike from his hand caught her perfectly on her right buttock, sending a jolt of pain along her back, and down to her fingers. She gasped, but said nothing.
“I said count” he repeated, and this time there was an edge in the spank, a sting that sent a shiver along her.
“One, two,” she quickly said…
“Frau K, you’ve made me repeat myself. For this error I’ll double your test. And be warned, if you lift a hand from the desk, or move your feet, you fail”.
With these words he began in earnest. This time there was little gentleness in his hands, the strikes continued, alternating between cheeks, reddening her skin and eliciting deeper and deeper gasps from her trembling lips.
K continued to count, even as each slap stung her. She moaned as he increased the pace; had he been teasing her! ‘Could she continue?’ her thoughts trembled in her mind, jarred as she focused again on the count. ‘God, the Count!”.
He paused, and walked around to face her across the desk. “How many?”, he murmured as he caressed her glistening face; oh so gently!
She shook her head, but then tried anyway, “37?” she queried.
“35”. His eyes frosted, “we’ll start again…”
She nodded wordlessly; she would pass his test she promised herself.
Each cheek was already sensitive from her earlier spanking, and this time he was equally unmerciful. Each cheek was punished; each cheek was pushed to her limits and then released as he would work on the other. She thought at times she would scream, or cry, but she focused on her count. Almost sobbing her numbers out as each blow fell on her bare skin.
At thirty six he stopped, he kissed her tenderly on her marks, gently but insistently he cooled her fevered skin and slowly her breathing returned to normal. She was trembling, her body wracked with the desire she could feel within them both.
He calmed her, bringing her slowly to stand while holding her against himself so that she did not fall as she swayed.
“You passed the second test, yet failed the first. You may continue your training, yet I cannot fully reward you, yet. Congratulations; enjoy your next few days of freedom, and I’ll see you in three days”.
She smiled in triumph, and walked out, in to the night…
The trap
She shifted her weight from one knee to the other, testing the leeway as she sank a little in to the velvety fleece. She had a little, but not much. The heavy, black shackles on her ankles kept her feet stretched apart. Her knees were ensnared in soft and unyielding rope, spreading her thighs. She looked up to the black coils that pulled her slender arms in to the darkness above her. A bead of seat traced its way down her back, leaving its salt taste on her golden skin.
She shivered as she looked about her, everywhere she saw herself; her helpless form reflected in eight silvered mirrors. Her hands were bound and tied to silver hoops high above the bed. Her head and hair were completely free; he wanted her to see herself. Her gold and his silver, was there an analogy here to the sun and the moon she thought to herself.
The dark bruises on her buttocks, his marks, were the only flaws on her otherwise perfect body. She winced as she thought of the pain of the last three days…
She’d gotten the train home, standing all the way. Her thoughts chasing each other, she still couldn’t remember the journey clearly, not one passenger noticed or cared for. Elated, giddy and unthinking, she’d fallen in to her bed and slept a dark, dreamless sleep. The next day she’d gotten in to the shower, and shrieked when the hot water sluiced over the raised red welts of his hands. She’d been more careful since, sponging herself, applying Aloe Vera sap and patting herself gently dry. She didn’t sit down for two days. By the third her bruises had appeared; dark blue fingers covered her from just below her back down to her upper thighs.
She’d traced the marks with her fingers; remembering which had made her wince, or sob, or which had torn a tear from her proud eyes. But she had passed her trial by hand, and now she was going back for two things, her punishment for loosing count, and her reward for reaching 36…
He stood before her, stripped to the waist, lean and wiry and smiling darkly at her. In his hands was a black flogger; long, thin strips of leather bound in a silvered handle. He balanced it with his hand as he ran his eyes over her lush body. Her breasts were roped upwards and tied against her body. Her nipples were large, her areolae wide and inviting; and such a delicious pink!
K had always felt self-conscious of her breasts, they were beautifully large and shapely, and men always noticed them. In fact, she’d often thought ruefully, it was often the only thing they’d seen in her. She’d tried to hide them, often wearing loose fitting tops, and never showing her cleavage as her friends had done. And now they were brutally exposed, the light blue veins through her translucent skin, the full weight of them bound in soft black rope.
“They say a woman’s libido can be measured by the width of her areola, the larger the diameter, the greater the sex drive, as if she had stronger animal instincts.” He held her chin up so that they looked each other fully in the eyes.
“Are you ready?”
“Yes Sir, I am ready,” She’d learned her first lesson well…
The clamps bit deeply, and she gasped as they first pinched her nipples, and then pulled them as he attached the weights to the connecting chain. The pain was intense and continuous. She practiced her breathing, struggling to retain control, she focused on the stretch in her arms, trying to block out thoughts of her nipples.
“I’m going to flog you now. Do you know what you have to do?”
“Yes Sir”, she nodded, “I have to count the strokes”.
“Exactly so”, he smiled wolfishly at her.
The first blow caught her low on the back, the things wrapping around her slender waist to sting her exposed midriff. She panted, swallowed, and said, “One Sir”.
The second was higher; it caught the underside of her right breast, making her wince and twist. ‘Leeway, Ha!’ there was only enough to squirm under his lashes. The strikes continued, caressing her back and belly with stings. At twelve he paused, smiled again, and said,
“This will hurt….”
The leather straps curled, flashed and landed with a slap across her left nipple. The tears welled in her eyes as she stuttered, ‘thirteen…sir”.
“Louder”, he insisted.
“Thirteen Sir,” she sobbed out.
He paused, “Can you continue?”
Taking a deep breath, she looked up at him, “Yes Sir, I can continue”.
He smiled, “Good, the next will be quicker”. Fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen and eighteen, all flashed by. She was flogged front and back; her nipples and breasts screamed at her as she shouted her count. They continued, hard and fast, this was unlike anything she’d ever experienced before. And the pace continued to increase.
There was nothing but the storm for her. It flashed strikes against her, and it crashed as she continued to shout. Her senses were ablaze, no thoughts, only a crescendo of pain. She clung to her rock of numbers as she crested the wave, threw back her head, and shrieked,”Thirty-six Sir!”
Her head slumped and her body shook as she trembled from the receding waves…
She shook as his teeth bit firmly on the nape of her neck. One hand pulled her hair and head back. Another was at her drenched labia, teasing his way clear. There was the slightest touch on her swollen clitoris and she gasped at the intensity of her reaction. Her neurons were hardwired to her senses and they snapped from pain to pleasure with one flick of his fingers as his hand held himself firmly against her pelvic bone.
She thrust against him, feeling the unyielding strength she thrust deeper. He moved with her, letting her control the speed, but always demanding extra depth. His fingers moved against her inner wall, and the upper ridge of his palm was firm against her clitoris.
She could feel her climax coming on, deepening her breath. Her areolae and nipples were a crimson red and the muscles knotted in her thighs and upper arms as she strained against her bonds.
It came on suddenly, before she’d had time to think, waves of pleasure swept through her. Her back arched and her abdomen pushed and thrust against his hand. Her orgasm filled her, deepening as it echoed and reverberated through her head and heart. She moaned from her soul to the dark…
Her shackles were unlocked, her knees released; and when the ropes slid off her breasts and wrists, she collapsed on to the fleece. She was shaking and her mind was numb. Then, he was there. He caressed and held her as her breathing slowed. Her body stopped trembling as he soothed her shattered nerves. As he felt her return, he lifted her face, oh so tenderly, and she opened her eyes in to his.
There was a world shared between them in that moment. He had tapped in to her core, past her thresholds for sensuality and in to the realms beyond. He had embraced her in her pain and her pleasure, and she was caught like her namesake, a Rabbit caught by her Hunter. She was trapped, and he had caught her…
The dungeon
She moaned again in her blindness. The heavy leather kept her eyes shut against the flickering candles, but her mouth was free and she gasped again as the vibrations changed rhythm. She shifted her position and pushed the vibrator tighter against herself. There was so little give, her head was free, but it hung backwards over the edge of the bench. Her ankles were bound to the roof, black leather shackles kept her legs pulled upwards. Her hands were bound against the side of the leathered bench she lay on. Her body was fixed, three black straps crossed it, one above her breasts, one below them and another tightly bound her midriff.
The bench she lay on was slick with her sweat and juices. The insistent vibrations continued to pulse against her clitoris. Her gasps and pants increased, her breathing deepened and she felt another orgasm coming on. Her skin was slick with sweat; it pooled at her neck and ran down in to her glistening hair. As the orgasm ripped through her, she screamed it to him. His control, her desire, his need and her abandon combined in the darkness…
She had started her torment naked, standing in the darkened dungeon, high in the tower of Jäger’s home. The bench and chains, the cross against the wall and the wall of whips and floggers had terrified her. Her mind would grasp what one could do before another swam before her eyes.
Naked, she’d felt defenseless, and then she was. She’d obeyed all his commands, directly and with pride in what had developed between them. But this was such a deep submission. Her eyes still shone with the sapphire blue of her youth, but they were tempered in silver by the wisdom of what she’d discovered within herself.
He started her on the cross, bound against the wood, he clamped and weighted her nipples and then flogged her unmercifully. After each beating, came the release. He’d sluice her down with warm oil and then tease her in to orgasm. There was a will in the way he controlled her, and her pain and pleasure increased with each session.
Next had been the bench, her ass curved to his hands as she’d held the wooden sides tightly. She still counted for him, and he always checked to make sure she got it right. When she was red and raw he slowed, stopped and caressed her. His tongue brought on her next orgasm, tasting, drinking and reveling in her delicious juices.
Then the blindfold, her chained ankles and her bound body. He waxed her shining skin first, covering her lush breasts with hot liquid. But then the vibrator started, he’d tied it so that it pressed against her. The rhythm changed and moved with her, the harder she pressed, the faster it went…
Slowly her trembling receded. His hands and tongue cleaned the salty liquids from her quivering body.
“Oh God” she gasped. His tongue was flicking against her throbbing maidenhood.
“Could she take more?” she frantically formed the thought before it was swept away in her sensory overload. Tears started, and she sobbed as her body responded once again to him.
But not yet, J took off her blindfold, and looked in to her trembling eyes. He stood behind her, and she could only look at him fully by letting her head drop back. He was naked.
She felt helpless, her mouth open from leaning back and there in front of her eyes, his erect cock. She licked her lips in invitation. There was power in him and she embraced it with longing in her mouth and eyes.
She whispered, “Please…”
Again, that half smile of his, “As you wish.”
She licked his length as he ran it over her face. Her mouth was hungry for him and she squirmed against her restraints to get closer. She wanted to worship him, to take his cock in her and be filled by it. Her questing mouth followed him as he teased them both. Finally he relented…
His two hands held her hair and head. He moved his thumbs to her mouth; she opened it wide and willingly. He slid in. Her mouth and throat were open to him and he moved in slowly, deliberately and relentlessly. One hand moved to her throat, cupping her slender neck firmly, the other held fast to her golden hair, keeping her head fully back and down against the hard wood.
He worked her. Her mouth filled with saliva so that it fell out of her gaping mouth. It covered her face and ran in to her hair. His cock grew larger as she lubricated it with her glands. It ran in and out smoothly as she got it wetter and wetter. He changed his thrusts, sometimes slowly filling her until she gagged on him and sometimes he’d only let the tip enter her as he quickly thrust in to her.
Slowly he moved his engorged head deeper than it had gone before. It pressed down in to her throat and he stopped. His hand massaged her choking throat, and his other held her hair in its iron grip. Her eyes watered as he slowly counted down from ten. She couldn’t breathe and her body arched against its bonds. Even as her legs kicked the chains that held them she heard the last “One” and he withdrew. The tears and saliva covered her beautiful face. But there was no end in sight…
She had become his plaything, trapped in his dungeon, but she knew it was her passions and desires that had truly trapped her. She had entered happily, almost playfully, and now she was his. Her orgasms had given him an intense power over her, her mouth was his to do with as he pleased.
There was nothing but his cock and her mouth. She could feel his orgasm coming on, the taste of salty pre cum in her mouth and the tightening grip of his hands. His primal instincts were taking control, his breathing turned in to bestial noises and she responded by rocking her head against him faster.
It came on quickly, three final thrusts, three final gasps and then his guttural howl as his release came. His cum hit the back of her throat as he orgasmed in her mouth. She swallowed convulsively as the hot liquid continued to flow in to her.
She slurped and swallowed it all, licking his cock clean, and drinking the last drops from him. She smiled up at him. She had felt the shift in the dynamic, and now took the power from him by her submission to him. He withdrew his glistening cock from her mouth, she was a mess but he cleaned and kissed her streaked face. And as he smiled at her she smiled back. He whispered, “Thank you” and her smile grew wider…
