By: Emma Sub
Summary: A story of a girls slow and emotional transition from vanilla into the world of submission.
You had taken it slowly with me, not that I thought that at the time. I found out that you had been keeping a watching brief on me for months, just waiting. Then without me realising, you decided I was ready, and you were right. It was as though you realised you had all the time in the world and were determined to make sure that I wanted what the future held for me and was fully aware of each step.
I'd seen you around the office at times. I'd fancied you from afar. You were far too good looking and rich for me. Actually it wasn't that totally, I could tell you were experienced and in control. I tried to give out that I was, in my bossy way, but I knew it was a mask. Really I was scared and frightened, so much so that outside work I kept myself very much to myself more than people realised. I'd never really liked parties, especially ones connected with people from work. When Charlotte, my boss, bullied me into going to hers. I was a little put out, almost not going but eventually giving in to her pressure.
I was wearing my best dress and knew that I looked reasonable. A number of men obviously looked me up and down as I entered and stood speaking to Charlotte. Soon she left me with a mixed group of people. I tried to look interested as I listened to discussions of banking and cooking for parties and share dealing. I had nothing much to offer and said very little.
Suddenly I noticed you watching me. I hadn't seen you arrive and your presence and attention both frightened and excited me. When you came over to the group I was with I could tell you were aware of me, eventually I became aware that you were flirting, with me! You were so strong and sure. After a while you took my arm and felt myself shaking as you refilled our glasses. You decided that we wouldn't be returning the group; we stood talking in a corner. I felt gauche and girlish, I knew I talking nonsense about things that I knew nothing. It was odd, in the past I'd flirted like everyone else and I'd been flirted with but this was different, I didn't feel in control and felt the need to run away to safety. I didn't, and strangely it excited me. You were careful, I realise that now, and you played me on your line. I could have escaped and yet even though I realised you were danger I stayed. God you were dangerous, yet I could feel your presence aroused me somehow. That was new.
Listening to you making me laugh and knowing I was aroused was a dangerous mix. I hadn't had a boyfriend since I'd left university. I'd only ever been to bed with two men, boys really, and they hadn't aroused me in bed as much as I was simply by you standing next to me. I knew you'd leave and I'd have to go home to my flat and fantasise. I'd even got out of the habit of masturbating I realised sheepishly. I knew I would tonight.
"Penny for your thoughts?"
I went scarlet. I could feel my face burning. I wanted to cry, to run away embarrassed. I hid within the drape of my hair, and then looked up. You kissed me! I couldn't cope. I felt your lips softly play over mine as my breathing became ragged. I could feel your body through my dress. You must be teasing me! I pulled back and looked at your face and I sank in your eyes. I hid my face against your chest. My knickers were wet! I ran away from you out into the garden like some stupid little heroine in a Victorian melodrama. The night was cool, though not cold from the strangely hot spring day. I breathed in, listened to the soft sounds of night, tried to control my emotions.
After I thought I had regained some control I walked back towards the house. You were there, standing against the doorframe.
"I'm sorry. I must just seem like a silly little girl to you."
"No. I understand. I wont bite you know. Is the garden interesting?" Your eyes were laughing but I didn't feel I was being laughed at. I smiled back.
"Lets see if we can find something." You held out your hand, not taking mine, but offering to take mine. You always let me think I had a choice. I gave you hand and we walked back into the privacy of the warm night amongst the trees. You kissed me again and my responses frightened me again.
"Why are you playing with me?"
"Then why me? I'm not sophisticated or beautiful enough for you."
"Oh my! You are beautiful." Liar! Liar! I wanted to shout, but you continued. "You are, and how you react to me saying it shows that you aren't vain. Maybe I'd like to make you believe it, and sophistication is only experience. I've watched you. You try and hide behind a pretence of superiority at times, at other times it's merely distance. Don't be afraid. You can keep people away but it will only leave you without knowing what you can have." I closed my eyes and you kissed the tears that escaped from them, then I offered you my mouth and you held me.
In the party again you made me feel beautiful. You also made me feel protected. I felt drunk just thinking I was with you. We talked to others now as well as to each other. I laughed, and though I still felt a little gauche I relaxed more and more. At times I simply looked at you, knowing my eyes were shining. You weren't really that attractive, certainly not good looking in the obvious way, but you had an aura about you. I knew I wanted to be with you.
"Will you come back with me?" I stared up at you. My mouth was dry and I just nodded. You drove to your house. We sat in the car in silence. I watched you as I drove along with this virtual stranger. I felt frightened by what I was doing, what I was feeling and yet strangely I trusted you. I'd never slept with anyone when I'd just met him. I'd never really been bothered about sleeping with anyone to be honest. It had never been that good; I'd never orgasmed with others, not that they knew or cared. It was different with you. Somehow you made me feel like a princess, but there was more. I felt cared about and cared for, as though you would look after me. I'd never let anyone this close before and we had only just met. I wanted to go to bed with you then. I wanted you.
In your large Georgian house I dithered. My normal good girl was fighting with the needs of my wicked side. I wanted you to sweep me up and take me to your bed in your arms but I was scared to death that you would. A coffee and a talk, maybe leading gradually to more was preferable I thought. You didn't wait for me, you took me immediately upstairs. Inside your room you took me loosely in your arms and ran your hand over my breast; I felt my nipple swell in excitement. I didn't know what to do, my heart was pumping, I wanted to cry I knew I was out of control of the situation. Instead of running I laid my forehead on your chest. Your fingers took the tip and twisted almost firmly. I winced and my eyes fluttered. You continued to roll my nipple between his fingers, toying with it idly. I realised that I was afraid and excited more than I should be. There were twinges in my sex.
You pulled my head up for you to see. "You are not to speak." I nodded, thankfully. I was frightened of what I might have said, my body felt more alive than it ever had. My chest heaving as the strong ache from my nipples became intense pleasure. I tried to regain my breath, to calm down, but the effort was wasted.
"Undress for me." You sat down on the bed looking up at me. You looked so handsome and confidant, I wanted to pinch myself to see if I was dreaming. "The dress." I slowly unbuttoned my dress, shook it free from my arms and let it fall to the floor. "Ah, good, no tights. Now the bra." I reached around my back and unclasped my bra just let it roll off my shoulders. My nipples stood out further than I had ever seen them. "Now..." I began to tremble I hooked my thumbs into the waistband of my knickers and very slowly rolled them down over my hips. It was on the border of sheer embarrassment, as I stood naked, being appraised, yet I could smell the familiar scent of my arousal. I was worried that you'd not like my body; that I'd be embarrassed and spoil things, but thankfully you took charge. My body didn't seem to put you off and as you made me undress, I had actually enjoyed you taking all initiative away from me. It felt strangely safe giving up the responsibility to you. You aroused me and I wanted you to take me.
You instructed me to stand closer. I followed your commands without need for conscious thought, wordlessly, compelled. Your hands examined me, sliding over my skin. Your hand snaked between my legs. I closed my eyes. I was completely mortified by my wetness. I could never remember leaking so much before.
Opening my eyes I was caught in your smile. Your finger plunged deeply into me. Feeling you suddenly enter into my body left me shocked and gasping. Your finger plunged his finger in and out of my wetness. I just stood there naked whilst you were still fully dressed accepting your use of me.
Suddenly it occurred to me that I might climax but you removed your hand and, as I blushed, wiped my inordinate liquids over my stomach. No one had ever dared do that to me before, I was unable to hide how excited I was from either of us with that simple action. I yearned to be brought to climax by you.
You lay me naked on your huge bed and caressed me. Self-consciously I tried to cover my nakedness again but you took my hands and placed them beside my head, telling me to keep them there. My hair was unfurled under them across the sheet. I felt exposed and tentatively moved one hand. You shook your head and I returned it feeling excitingly exposed and desperate to trust you. It occurred to me then that it should have frightened me but all I felt was that sexual rush in my belly. I was so aroused.
"Imagine they are tied there."
My hips jerked. How did you know? How did you know one of my most secret fantasies was to be ravished like this, tied, with no responsibility for what was done to me? I closed my eyes, my lips were dry, my breasts rising and falling rapidly as you caressed them.
Your hand found my mound. I had always been embarrassed about the size of my mound and my sex in general. In trousers sometimes I thought that it's bulge appeared as though I had a cock. My mound seemed to protrude and was emphasised by its inherent fleshiness. My full labia didn't close into the single delicate and virtually invisible line that my old English teacher had considered a lady's should when discussing some rude scene in a play at school. Now, with my feelings in a whirl, my entire sex felt bloated as I pushed up to your hand as it cupped me, wanting your finger inside again. As your hand moved fractionally I realised that I was leaking copiously onto you and began shaking with embarrassment. I didn't know if I would cry. But it wasn't simply embarrassment it was also wicked lust. I wanted you to make love to me, to take me. As you kissed me your fingers slid over my clit. I moaned into your mouth, my hips bucking.
I kept my hands where you'd placed them as I watched you undress. I tried to forget the position I was laying in. You were hard, you were excited, and you wanted me. I loved looking at you. I looked at you and knew you were going to take me.
Your hands spread my legs further. I whimpered softly but didn't resist you forcing my display. You knelt above me; I could feel your cock resting over my stomach. I wanted you more than I'd ever wanted before. I parted my legs further and pushed up to you. I felt like a slut, it felt exciting. Your cock sawed over my lips parting them further, your knob pressed against me, pushed into me, stretching me, left me gasping as you slid slowly into me, stretching, filling. With virtually no foreplay I was ready for you. As you began to move I felt so full of you, you were so hot and hard inside me. My hands were still restrained by my head. You began a slow thrusting. I was lubricating more freely than ever but you still stretched me. Resting on your elbows you kissed my face softly, spoke to me about what you were doing, what I was doing. You made me say it too. Your rhythm increased very slowly in speed with each thrust. I found I was pushing up desperate to have you deep, found I was making soft mewling noises. I was being taken. You were taking me. I couldn't do anything, you were in control, and you were enjoying using my body and I was enjoying you using my body.
I exploded. My orgasm ripped through me taking me with it. My body was full of fireworks and the sound of waves breaking and almost painful pleasure. I became aware of the fact that you were holding me down with your weight as I thrashed around, gradually calming, not believing what you'd done to me.
"I might have to gag you next time, and tie you firmer." You joked. My body hit another small peak. My hands were still restrained in our fantasy.
You began teasing me with your cock. Taking yourself almost out of me, making very small thrusts into me. I wanted you deeper, needed to be filled by you, by your cock. I heard myself pleading with you, I wanted to come again! I pushed up to you, demanded, all to no avail. You slightly increased your depth at times, only often to retreat again. Very infrequently you'd fill me fully only then to tease again as my body craved to be stuffed. I begged. I begged. I surprised myself, I'd never considered begging anyone for anything let alone sex! The thought made me hotter, I was desperate. I couldn't believe it but I cried real tears of frustration.
"I'll make you come."
"Oh God! Yes! Yes! Now! Please! Now!"
"You'll come, and so will I," my entire body curved off the bed at the thought of you climaxing inside me, "and after you will clean my cock with your mouth."
"Oh God! Oh! Yes. Yes." I'd never done that to anyone. Never even considered it with anyone. Always refused, it was dirty. Until now. Now, I would have to do it. Even though it was dirty, it was arousing because it was dirty and I'd have to.
You slid inside me and actually told me to orgasm. I did! Oh God how I came for you. Then you fucked me. You took my body and made it yours. You fucked me through my wild climaxes and through yours. I heard you grunt softly in your throat as you came and it made me feel so supremely happy. I came yet again.
I didn't want you to move from me. I hated the feel of you pulling out of me. I was exhausted but I rolled over and l knelt by you. My thighs and hips were soaking as I knelt over your beautiful cock. I could feel your semen dribbling down my thighs. I wanted to wash, to be clean for you. I wanted to pleasure you more. The wetness made me embarrassed yet shameless. I kissed your cock as it throbbed. I tasted you. I could taste myself on you. I kissed and licked you wantonly. Pushing my face against you, slick from my sex, I felt such a greedy slut. Your veins pulsed and I took you between my lips and allowed you inside. I'd never had a cock in my mouth; you had my virginity there at least. I wanted more, took more until I gagged. I loved the feel of you inside my mouth, loved the feel in me as I pleasured and cleaned you. I couldn't believe it was me. I couldn't believe I had done any of this. I slept in your arms. I was still sticky. I smelt of sex. I knew I had been such a whore, but I fell asleep still feeling the throbbing between my legs.
In the morning I woke and felt the tenderness of my sex. I wasn't used to it! We'd made love more than once during the night. The bed was empty. I was a little frightened, but you walked in almost immediately. You walked in naked, your cock bouncing out in front of you as you carried a tray. I couldn't take my eyes off it! I giggled.
On the tray was a large bowl of fruit cut up into bite-sized pieces. There was something else, something leather though I didn't know what it was.
"I want to feed you, but I want you to be blindfold as I do." It seemed funny, amusing. It was a game. I laughed. I had never been blindfold in my short adult life. You sat me up in bed, my breasts visible. I was embarrassed by it, but you refused for me to cover them. I suddenly became aware of how I stunk of sex, needed to clean myself. I asked you if I could go to the toilet first but you wouldn't let me. You brushed unruly waves of hair from my face then fastened the amazingly soft leather over my eyes around my head.
Considering that no one had ever done this to me before, never thought about it in all probability, I was so surprised that I didn't feel overwhelming panic, but I didn't. It felt so comfortable, so secure. The smell of the leather was powerful near my nostrils. The blackness was total. A shiver ran through me, my mouth opened slightly as I breathed quickly. My lips were dry. My nipples were hardening rapidly. I was aroused! It seemed so strange. In the blackness I felt powerless. You had taken away my ability to do things that I took for granted. I was also defenceless. I felt the covers pulled from me, leaving me fully naked. It was odd, the feeling of being made to be naked was embarrassing but the blackness allowed me the childish belief that if I couldn't see anything, no one could see me. It allowed me to pretend that I wasn't a slut. You took my hands and leant me back with my hands behind me. I knew my breasts would be thrusting out. It was awful. You tapped my thighs apart as our open mouths kissed. It was really so rude. Eventually I moved them slowly apart. You had made me. I felt close to being too embarrassed by my position, but I knew I was excited beyond belief.
A piece of fruit took my attention as it rubbed over my lips. It was a soft slice of peach, the taste strong in my darkness. It was sensual against my lips, being pushed into me. I was being fed. I had quietly acquiesced and transferred my power to you. A strawberry rubbed across my teeth, then a piece of orange. Something cool and sticky rubbed over my nipple. I heard myself make a noise, probably at the unexpectedness. My nipples were hard. I was excited. It was pure fantasy, though one I had not the creativity to have considered. More fruit fed to me, occasional pieces rubbed over my breasts.
"Hush. There is no need for talking." You kissed my softly for what seemed like hours.
You kissed me again and held my head captive with your fingers combed in my hair. My face was hot against yours. Your hand tapped my thighs even further apart. I was being dreadful but I did so until you said you were satisfied that I was displaying myself to your liking. I knew what I must look like. I hid in my hot dark. I went to move my hands to hold you, but your mouth came from mine and you murmured "No" and they slunk back behind me leaving me totally defenceless.
At times your fingers would drip juices into my mouth, or tease my lips. I never knew what was coming next, couldn't see. You had control. I had given mine up. Your fingers suddenly slipped inside my sex. I gasped. They came back to my mouth. I could taste the tang of my juices as well as the fruit. It was so shameful. I sucked your fingers, as I knew I had sucked your cock. I was moaning softly. I couldn't stop you, or myself.
More fruit, more fingers inside my sex and then in my mouth again. More fruit. Something cold at my sex made me jump. It was a piece of fruit that you rubbed over me. I tasted myself on it as you slipped it into my mouth.
You caressed me and filled my body with hot need. At times you would stop after exciting me to fever pitch.
"Please! Please! Please carry on!" Begging you to continue. Another piece of fruit slipped into my mouth.
"OK. I will, but only on the condition that you promise not to orgasm until I grant permission."
"Yes! Yes! I promise!" Stupidly thinking I had some control left I readily agreed, in my blindness.
Your fingers were far too clever. Even when you were rough or pinched my nipples and it should have hurt; the pain was full of pleasure. The feelings of being blindfold and virtually bound was dizzying. You built my orgasm. Your fingers explored and took me. The darkness was making me so aware of every touch. They floated so lightly at times as if they were feathers blowing over my skin, at others they would knead or squeeze my flesh until my blood boiled, and at others they would enter into my hot slippery body. You brought me nearer and nearer and then allowed me frantic moments when I wasn't sure if I wanted you to continue or whether I was desperately pleased that you'd allowed me some respite.
"Please what? Do you want me to stop?"
"Yes. No. I'm going to climax if you carry on."
"You promised that you wouldn't"
"I cant! I cant!"
Again and again you built up my arousal, stoking the fires that only you had found. Up and up your fingers took me. I had no control. I was just a slut. You had all the control. I knew that without you slowing I would not be able to stop my body hurtling over the edge. Again my arousal built in your hands, but this time you didn't stop! This time I felt myself grasping desperately for some hold and found none. I had promised not to climax and I could tell that I was not in full control of my body any more. That thought was frightening and yet strangely exciting, like the feeling as one sits approaching a huge drop on a scary ride. With one of your hands at my breast, fingers rhythmically squeezing on a nipple, the other at my sex, fingers teasing my clit and then suddenly plundering my insides I came. I tensed and arched, and then after I had held that wondrous feeling inside for as long as I could I heard sounds of all kinds issue from my throat and mouth, I felt my head jerk spastically out of control as electric currents surged within me, I felt juices spurt disgustingly from me, I watched as fireworks exploded inside me as my head thrashed from side to side.
I don't know how long it lasted. It could have been hours it could have been minutes. It left me exhausted and with small orgasmic spasms passing through me as I swayed panting. You gave me orgasms like I'd never known. My body covered in sweat, the bed sodden between my legs.
In my darkness I heard you whisper.
"You are a naughty girl. You promised not to orgasm. Didn't you?"
"Yes." I murmured.
"Naughty girls have to be disciplined."
"Oh. Do they?" Words breathed out.
"Oh. Oh." Sighed. My mouth open. My sex pulsing.
"Just a small punishment this time."
"Yes. Please, just a small one."
All week I had known I had thrown myself at you. Also, I knew I had been so dirty. Sex had never been like that before. It scared me and yet excited me. It also scared and excited me that you had made me orgasm so easily, that you made love to me in ways that I hadn't known and wanted to experience again and again.
We went to a concert during the week. You were a perfect gentleman. I was ashamed to know that what I wanted was for you to make me be rude again. The music was really good, leaving me breathless, and after we had a quick dinner before you drove me back to my flat. You just grinned when I asked you in, saying that you didn't want to push me too quickly and anyway I wasn't allowed fulfilment. I blushed deeply in the darkness within your car and I was mortified to hear myself plead, but you remained firm. I was so frustrated that night, yet somehow your firmness with me was reassuring. The Saturday following you took me to dinner and I was wined and dined. You looked so beautiful. Made me laugh. Kept me amused. Listened attentively. Usually I tried to keep unnoticed, out of sight even in a crowd. I dressed accordingly. Tonight I had wanted to be seen. I had bought a dress, which I thought showed my cleavage. I wanted you to look at me, notice me, want me.
As the meal wore on I was becoming more and more horny. My sex and nipples grew more and more itchy. In the past I had to be persuaded to have any form of sex. With you I was eager before any suggestion from you. I wanted to suggest it. I could almost beg for it.
All week I had wanted to masturbate far more often than usual. I tried to tell myself that it was simply that I had had sex again for the first time in a long time but it was far more. It was partially that you had awakened something lewd in me but also the knowledge that you had told me not to, my punishment. I was shocked. I could hardly believe it when you had told me my punishment, but there was something so exciting about it. Actually I had thought that it would be so easy but thoughts of what you had made me do drove me to distraction. I imagined all sorts of situations where I was in your power. I thought of the orgasms you had given me. I wanted you to take me, make me. Maybe you noticed something in my eyes, maybe you guessed. Maybe you wanted the same as me.
Over coffee you mentioned sex again for the first time in the conversation. You spoke casually as though it had been a continuation of our discussion.
"Have you been a good girl?" I knew what you meant.
"Yes." Looking at the table modestly. Blushing.
"Tell me properly, fully. Look me in the eye."
"I have been good for you." I giggled. Then serious, panting slightly, "I haven't masturbated all week. I accepted my punishment." My face burnt.
"Good. It's important that you can do as your told." My stomach churned. It was excitement. "Did you want to orgasm?"
"Yes." My face charred.
"But you also wanted to do as you were told?"
It had sounded so easy. I had almost laughed at the time. You had forbidden me to masturbate again until I saw you. I had hardly ever masturbated then. It was to be my punishment, and as you said an easy one. But in the coming days I found it wasn't quite as easy as I had imagined. Having to do as I was told was something new for me and it was definitely sexual. All week the thought of holding myself back from doing it left me with a level of arousal that, though sometimes low, had been with me virtually all day, every day. It didn't generally get in the way nor was it so strong as to make me give in to the desperation as to relieve myself, but it was always there. My arousal because of what you did to me, my arousal because I was aroused and couldn't do anything about it, my arousal at not being able to do anything, such a cocktail. After the concert I was frantic with need. I almost gave in, it was so near, but I was determined to prove to myself that I could do it. It got worse.
"In a few minutes I want you to take a cab to my house. I will follow separately. In the house I want you to go to the bedroom, strip naked, and wait for me. I want you to kneel on the bed, offering yourself. On all fours. Like a bitch on heat. Do you think you can do that? Do you want to do that?"
You couldn't ask me that! It was too rude, too wicked. We had only known each other a little while. I should have been angry that you could have even considered...
"Yes." I croaked. Throat dry. I couldn't think of anything else to say. I did. I wanted to be dirty, on heat for you. I was on heat for you I realised. I sat in a daze as you gave me a key and the position and code for the alarm, ashamed at how strong my arousal was.
A taxi was sent for. It occurred to me that it was far safer than it seemed. You had effectively given me a way out. I could direct the taxi anywhere. Not necessarily to the house. I climbed in. Gave your address. I had a strange desire to take off my underwear in the car, too panicky, the thought arousing though. If you had said... I couldn't believe what I was thinking, what I was doing.
I realised at the house how you were showing your trust in me. I worried that I had forgotten the code to the alarm. I slipped out of my dress. Hung it on a hanger in your wardrobe. Sat on the bed. I thought of last week. How I wasn't acting like the 'miss-goody-two-shoes' I had thought myself to be. I realised that time had passed in my daydreams. I took off my underwear. Naked now. Beginning to worry. Climbed up onto the bed. I was naked. Tried out various positions. Felt disgusting. Luckily my hair hung hiding my face but I wanted the blindfold soft against my face, wanted to know I had no control over this. My sex felt sticky and fat. I wanted to clean myself. The door! I quickly knelt, as your whore should. I couldn't believe I was doing this!
You came into the room. My breathing jangled my breasts. You were looking at me. I looked at the bed red faced. Embarrassed more by the knowledge of my arousal than by what I was doing. You moved behind me, told me to open my legs a little wider. Thought I could smell my arousal. The shameful agonies of displaying myself like this. Began to rise. Told to stay down. That was what I needed. You telling me. I couldn't do anything about it. You were making me. You stood next to me, dressed, whilst I was naked. There was something so arousing about being naked for you whilst you still had your clothes on.
Your hand stroked my back. Stroked my buttocks.
"That's good. I like you to show me your body. Do you like it?"
"My body?" I asked stupidly.
"I don't know. Yes. It's really embarrassing though." I closed my eyes.
"Does it make you feel naughty? Does it excite you as well?"
"Yes. Yes. It does. You make me want to be naughty." Your hand stroked over my skin. I felt it slip between my cheeks bringing a soft cry as it touched my little private opening, then it moved on.
"You're wet, such a bad girl." Just a statement, such a correct one. So humiliatingly wet.
"Yes." I croaked.
"Do you think you should be acting like this? Does it excites you so much that you can't stop, even though you know you should?"
"Oh God. I've never ever done anything like this before. You don't mind do you? Your not put off by me being so bad are you? You don't think I'm being... too disgraceful?"
"No. I love you being full of disgrace, offering yourself like this to me. Do you want to stop? Want me to stop?"
"Oh God no!" My face still red as I looked at the bed.
"Have you ever seen a bitch on heat?" That phrase!
"A dog? Yes."
"What does she do?"
"She offers herself to the male dog."
"She lifts her tail so that her bottom is on display. So that it can see that she's aroused. She sometimes licks his penis." I felt myself push up even more for you.
Kneeling naked for you! Your hand stroking me. I knew I was on heat. My buttocks thrust. I wanted to lick you, to make you want me. I couldn't believe this was me here, doing this, thinking this! Your fingers played down the divide of my buttocks again. I pushed up rather obviously. Fingers pressing along the smoothness from back over my puckered private opening and found my wetness again. Whimpered. It felt good to whimper.
I felt so embarrassed. Horny. Kneeling there whilst your fingers rested between my lips, in the sticky warmth of me. A long deep moan came from me. Your other hand reached under me. Took a breast. Testing the hardness of a nipple. Almost painfully, but it was good. Fingers slid inside my body. In and out. You fingered me in my vagina and fingered my clit, and watched me respond whilst you did it. Tendrils of pleasure grasping out from both my breast and sex. Orgasm building. All too much. Displaying myself so sexually. Your fingers. Being so naughty. Not being able to stop you. You left me on the brink. I pleaded in vain. I heard myself pleading! It was so embarrassing to beg you give me release. I groaned, silently cursed, but stayed in position. For some reason it felt good that you wouldn't allow me to just because I wanted it. Bitter sweet.
"Are you a bitch on heat?"
"Oh God. Yes."
"I like you being on heat." It was a good job!
From my hands and knees I watched you undress. I so liked that. Enjoyed watching you. Your body hard. Your erection large, hard. God I wanted that. You looked so manly, so sexy. You wanted me. Yes. I aroused you. Joined me on the bed.
"Do you have animal needs?"
"Are you truly on heat?"
"Oh God! Yes! Yes. All week!"
"Lick me. Just your mouth. Not your hands. You're just a bitch. A dog. If your mouth is good I'll rut you."
Still on my knees I turned to you. Licked all over your hard throbbing cock. I was a dog, a hot bitch. I wanted your rutting. It was alive. Rubbed my mouth over it. Over your balls. Wanting to give. Your earlier fingering leaving me molten inside. Your cock smelt and tasted so masculine. I remembered the only other time I'd touched a cock with my mouth. Last week. Your cock was covered with your semen and my juices then, now it was just you, so male.
It was so hard, pulsed. Wanting you to enjoy me. Shaming myself before you and trying to give you pleasure. So exciting. Rubbed my face against you. Lost myself. Took you deep into my mouth. Almost gagged. It felt so hot and alive. Kissed you. Licked your knob, your veined length, and your delicate testicles. Inside my mouth again. Taking your gift.
"Stop." Unwillingly I did. "Turn around. Breasts and face against the bed. Display yourself. If you look good I might use you." Turned round. Bent my back to stick my bottom high. Onto my elbows. Legs wide apart. I knew what you'd see. Slut, slut, slut! Moving back and forth lewdly. "Put your hands behind you, as though tied." Oh God! Oh yes! My face and breasts pressed against the bed as I accepted my bonds.
Yes. Yes. You were going to make me again. Thank God, yes.
"Does that excite you? The thought of being bound?"
"I don't know... yes." My need was far too demanding for me to question why. It just did. A lot. Never mind the guilt, it felt right. "Yes. Yes."
Wanting you to be as excited as me, enough to want to rut me. You were. You did. You took me like a dog. I had never experienced it in this position; it made me know my place. You knew what I needed. It felt so good with your hardness so deep inside. Filling. Possessing. You thrust and thrust and thrust. I screamed in orgasm over and over as my face rubbed over the duvet. Impaled on your hard flesh. You just kept on until you was satisfied, my body used. It was so bestial, it was so good.
The next day you wouldn't allow me to put clothes on, not even my underwear. You kept me naked in the house. You didn't allow me clothing until you took me home. I felt so displayed, so exposed. I also felt so aroused. You kept touching me, arousing me more. It was so embarrassing. You kept telling me to stop covering myself. Whatever I was doing, sitting reading, walking, making lunch, your fingers or mouth would find me wet and ready to respond at your first touch. Often you would leave me crying out for release, desperate, but making me know I had to wait. At times you had me wear the blindfold too. I found it strangely exciting. Playing this game with you, my submissiveness, was so surprisingly exhilarating. You fingered me as I stood blindfold in the front room. I couldn't stop myself. I came as you watched me, and I couldn't see you.
"You know the punishment for that?"
"Yes." Another week of pent up, unrelieved lust.
Then you took my body with yours, unexpectedly as I still tingled from orgasm. You took me from behind again as you knelt me on the sofa. I wanted you to enjoy me.
You wanted me again on the way home in your car. I had never done it in a car before, though I knew many others who had in various cars. In the back, as ordered. You kissed me, I was yours. I even helped you take off my clothes. It was virtually outside! Up a tree lined little track, but it was just possible people would see. I was naked, spread over your thighs. I sank down on you. It filled me. I felt so exposed as you had me ride you. I knew my breasts bounced in front of your face as you brought me to the brink of orgasm. Held there, I felt your hands on my nipples as my hands were ordered behind my back. My vaginal muscles were contracting wildly. You told me to come as your fingers squeezed my nipples. Pulled them. My body did as you said without further urging.
I kept thinking about you. The girls in the office could tell I was having a relationship but they didn't know it was with you. Charlotte was keeping my secret. They were constantly making facetious remarks. Throughout the week I had been unable to stop thinking of the times we had been together. Once I had even begun to masturbate at work in the toilet without thinking. When I had realised that I wasn't to, it made it worse. I was really horny these days. Thoughts of what we had done. What you made me do. Your hands on me. Your use of me. Your strange and exciting demands. My willingness to comply. I loved it.
Another day. Another meal. I couldn't stop thinking of what I hoped you would want me to do for you later. I was certain you would have demands. Again, thrilling conversation but no mention of sex until coffee. Then you asked me about my sexual experiences. It would have been an inappropriate question with from anyone else. From you it wasn't somehow. It was a question that I had to accept and answer. I told you. All so boring, really boring in comparison. Afraid that talking about my past experiences would suggest that I didn't enjoy my new ones. Became tongue-tied.
"What are you trying to tell me?" You grinned over your coffee. Didn't you like sex?"
"At the time I thought it was, well, OK. But... it seems... it seems, well pretty dull looking back." I laughed nervously.
"Do you like sex with me?"
"Oh God yes! You know! It's not even vaguely the same thing! You can tell."
"What's the difference? I don't want compliments; I want you to tell me the differences. Do you prefer the way that I deal with you?"
"Yes. Oh yes." It seemed so forward. I looked at the table.
"And how is that?" I couldn't speak for a moment. My face was ablaze.
"Tell me." A sip of coffee to take the dryness from my mouth.
"You tell me what to do, you take charge. I never realised. You make me do as I am told. I like to do as you tell me."
"How does it make you feel?"
"You know! It makes me so excited."
"And how do you feel about this new knowledge?"
"I don't really know. You... you make me feel vulnerable. Yet.... strangely secure. Vulnerable in a strange way. It's like you have responsibility for me. And... tell me to do things, things that I wouldn't have done if it weren't for you. I'd never have done them before. But I can't do anything about it. It's like I can't escape. You decide the things you want me to do. Naughty things. Things I shouldn't really do. Things... things I like doing. Things you make me do. Like rutting me like a bitch on heat. Like keeping me naked." I felt that I had spoken a long time. All in a rush. The pause after was as long for me, if not longer. Staring at my coffee cup.
"But things you find you like doing? Things that you want to continue doing?"
"Yes. Oh yes." My face scarlet as I admitted it. The tablecloth scorched by its proximity to my face. "I don't know why. I don't understand it."
"What do you want now?"
"I want.... I want you to make me.... I want you to make me... do whatever you want."
You took me back to your house. In the hall you kissed me. Your hands began gently undressing me against the wall. Quickly our joint desire overcame us. You tore at my clothes as our mouths continued joined. You impaled me against the wall, but only after you had made me to beg. After, there were my juices on the wall. And elsewhere too.
It was my acceptance of your email that made me realise that things had really changed. It might have still just be about reversible, but it was a certainly a watershed. It was the first of three major steps for me. After that acceptance I knew that I had made a fundamental choice, and there was likely to be no going back without considerable pain. Before it I had accepted that I belonged to you, but it was almost as one belongs in a vanilla relationship. I could pretend that was the case anyway. Now it was different. I was actively participating in my submission.
It was quite precise. There was no questioning it's meaning, neither the specific command nor the underlying understanding.
Until otherwise stated I have now changed my rule concerning your ability to masturbate to orgasm when you are not with me. From now on you must masturbate twice day. No more no less. Once per day may be in the confines of your flat, the other must be outside the flat. Where you masturbate must not be the same as any other previous session in the same week. This applies to within your flat as well as outside it. You will give me a verbal description of each act when we next meet. When you are with me you may only orgasm with permission.
Gradually the impact dawned on me. Earlier I had acquiesced to your demand forbidding to me to masturbate. Each weekend I had been with you, you had pushed me beyond my ability to restrain at least one orgasm and I had accepted the punishment that I should not touch myself until I was with you again. Although I was always upset in case I wasn't being good enough for you it had almost been like a game of truth and consequence, just a game. I had accepted it. It had been exciting to be told what to do; it created a tension that was exciting in itself. It was easier than this. Not doing it only meant I had to avoid doing something I wanted to do like not eating chocolate.
This time I had to actively participate in doing something for you. I had to find the time, the motivation, plan out my actions for you. Before, you controlled my orgasms until you gave me permission to orgasm. When permission was granted I had my orgasm. The realisation hit me that now I had to actively participate in my punishment, that it was as though I had to give you my orgasm, that it would be entirely for you, it belonged to you. I didn't know if I could do it. I didn't know if you were asking too much. Thinking about it made me both frightened and excited. I couldn't concentrate on anything else.
You knew what you were doing to me. It had been a very considered decision on your part - it wasn't an afterthought. You had recognised the tendencies I had buried deep within me, so deep that I hadn't been aware of them before I met you. I was frightened of giving any more. I knew if I did I was never going to be able to escape the knowledge that I was yours, not just my body but also all the facets of me. I knew that I would always know that whilst others may think of me as a slightly bossy good girl, I would be a bad girl who sneaked out to rub herself off because you'd told me to. You knew that asking this off me when you weren't here would do this to me, make me come to terms with it or snap. If you'd have asked me when with me I would have been able to convince myself that I was being forced. You knew what you were doing. You touched something deep down inside me with this new rule. I felt your control over me almost as a physical thing, this mental bondage.
I could lie about it of course. I could say that I had done it when I hadn't. As I thought about pretending, a feeling of loss crept over me. I didn't want to pretend! I wanted it. I wanted to submit to what you wanted!
Shaking, I left my desk and went to the toilet. I removed my skirt and hung it behind the cubicle door. My hand slid inside my knickers over the hot flesh that was yours. I found myself soaking. I moaned softly as I cupped myself. People might know what I was doing! I stood holding my puffy lips, hardly daring to begin, then, eventually, pushed down my sodden knickers and sat on the edge of the seat with my knees spread. I wondered at my leakage. I had never been this wet in the past. Sometimes I had been virtually dry with other men. I'd had to fantasise. Even when playing with myself I had never spurted liquids, there hadn't been sufficient. There was a sufficiency now. Doing things for you. I was being indecent; there was no hiding from the fact. I was doing this disgusting thing because you had told me to. It was irrelevant whether I wanted to, I had been ordered to. No one had ever had such control over me.
I began, slowly, exploring my sodden flesh as though for the first time. I even thought of it as cunt now, even on my own. It sounded agreeably dirty; it made me think of myself as your slut. It was a naughty word. It could only be used to describe part of a woman like me. As I held myself apart and rubbed my slippery fingers over my hard clit I wondered if this enforced pleasure would make me even hornier than I already was with you. I wondered if I would end up constantly begging you for release. My mind was a haze of excitement. Very quickly I was desperate to give you my soul. My fingers worked over my lips and clit. My fingers entered inside myself, entered my cunt. I gave myself up to them, giving myself to you.
Just before I could orgasm I heard someone else enter! They went into another cubicle! I wondered if they could smell me, know what I was doing. My ragged breathing seeming so loud as I tried to be quiet and still. I had stopped momentarily though I couldn't keep them from slowly rotating over my sex as I waited. I slipped my coated fingers into my mouth and sucked in my fluids. I heard whoever it was pee into the basin, pull the toilet paper, eventually flush the toilet, open the door, wash their hands and then after an age go out again. I let out a sigh and pushed my fingers deep inside my vagina and wriggled about, pushing onto my hand out of control. I began thrusting up inside myself as my other fingers rubbed my clit. I came almost immediately. I felt my juices spurting into my hand as I forced my mouth closed, the tendons in my neck aching as I forced myself to keep control over the sounds I made. It seemed to keep it all inside my body. The orgasm raged and raged then another quickly followed. I didn't want them to stop. I was insatiable. My hips bucked disgustingly against my hands until finally I slowed. Suddenly I stopped afraid. Had I to orgasm only once each time? No, I remembered, the message said masturbate twice a day. It didn't stipulate how long for. I relaxed.
After long minutes I was able to wipe my hands, thighs and sex. Finally I was able to stand on wobbly legs. I had done it for you. I was yours. The feelings of submission so strong and deep, so bound up with my orgasm still vibrating around within. I looked in the mirror and saw myself. I saw redness over my neck, blotches disappearing below my collar. I saw your whore.
Afterwards I felt so submissive. I found it difficult to step back from the life I was choosing to lead. Actions that normal people would see as dirty and perverse. Very slowly I was able to build an outer layer of normalcy to cover my need for submission, knowing that something had unalterably changed inside.
That night I went to bed ridiculously early. I had bathed and rubbed oils over my skin. It was as though I was preparing myself for you. I lay on the bed as though offering myself to you. I played with my breasts, squeezing their slippery fullness, pinching my nipples as you would as I considered and planned where I could possibly manage to carry out your instructions. Soon it became all too much and with one hand still on my breasts other fingers were soon worming their way inside my cunt.
It didn't feel like it had before you. I hadn't done this for so long. For three weeks I had not been able to masturbate. Now it felt different. As though you were there. As though you were watching me perform, making sure I did as I was told. Watching my wantonness, watching me being your slut. My fingers became frantic at the thought, almost pushing me over, but I managed to control it. I wanted it to last. I arched off the bed as if to show you as my fingers made crude wet noises in my cunt. I stopped a moment, thinking of what I was doing. Again it frightened me, the thought of your power over me. How humiliating it was to do this because you had told me to. The idea was too much and I thrust deeply into myself, grunting like an animal. Again I stopped myself at the edge, like you might have done. That thought was too much and I came. Rolling around on the bed thrusting lewdly against my hand, my thighs high and wide, ready for you, wanting you inside me, wanting you to see your slut. I continued until exhaustion overcame me and I slept.
I woke in the middle of the night. I smelt of sexual liquids, my hand still between my legs. I began to play with myself gently. Suddenly I stopped! I couldn't do it again. You had said only twice. I was frantic. I forced myself out of bed and went to look at the printout again. 'Twice. No more no less.' I walked around the flat near to tears hugging my dressing gown to me. The heat between my thighs and the throbbing inside my cunt was intense. I was desperate. Was it after midnight? But then if I came now I wouldn't be able to in the evening. It was far worse than when I hadn't been allowed at all. At times I found myself pressing against the table or a chair and had to pull back shamefully. Eventually I had to have a cool bath to calm my body down, even if my mind raced.
My next few days were filled with thoughts of masturbation. Where I was to do it for you, when to do it for you, how long would I have to wait. The thoughts of masturbation made me think of doing other things for you, with you. Thoughts of excitement mixed with fears and embarrassment in what I had begun to realise was a deadly mix for me.
The following Friday you had taken me back to the house after work. This time there was no dinner before you had me. No pretence that I was being wooed first, being charmed into giving myself up to unlimited pleasure. You'd taken me immediately to the warm bedroom and placed the blindfold around my eyes. You undressed me, taking your time, undressed me completely. Until I was displayed to you naked and I could imagine you looking at me. I wanted you to like the sight of me, like me naked, your woman naked. You had broken my will to resist my needs or your demands by what you'd had me do during the week, I didn't even think to question you. I accepted my submission meekly, excited that I was demonstrating it. I could tell that you knew there was a fundamental change in me. You didn't have to say it. You could sense the acceptance in me, could see my excitement. I felt the tenderness in you as my clothing was gently removed, the excitement in me mounting.
You took me to the bed, told me to stretch my arms out as though they were tied to the bed-head. The idea of that again sending tremors run up my vaginal walls. The idea that you may tie me, that I may be physically restrained and unable to stop anything happening to me making me hot as usual. I let my knees hang apart for you, offering my body up to you. I imagined how I looked. I knew I was open for you. I felt my lips peel apart, felt dampness seep between my buttocks, felt my nipples hardening even more. I ached with need.
"I have released your arms. Play with your breasts." I pulled down my arms.
"Please Stephen..." Both hands playing with and offering my breasts to you. My nipples so hard. You stopped me and told me to return my arms to where they were. Your fingers took over. They were so gentle. I wanted you to be harder. They made me want so much more. Your touch played all around the areas I wanted you to touch, but not on them.
"Please what my love?" Your fingers slid so slowly up my thigh, up the softness on the inner surface. So near.
"Touch me. Please touch me."
Am I not doing?"
"Yes. Please. Down there." Your fingers were driving me wild. My hips bucking towards you.
"On your feet?"
"No. You know!"
"Tell me then."
I couldn't. I was breathing hard now. I wanted you. Eventually, "Please, touch my sex."
"Sex is such a sexless word. You mean your cunt?" I nodded. "Say it then."
"Please. Please, touch my... cunt." You did. I almost came. I screamed, bucking furiously at your touch. I rubbed myself against you but you pulled away from me before I could come. I was crying in frustration.
"Remember you aren't allowed to come without permission."
"I know. I know. Please let me. Please."
"Not yet. Now, you play with your cunt."
"I cant. Please."
"You have to my sweet. You have to do as you're told."
"Yes. Yes, I know. I've never done this in front of anyone! Please don't make me."
"You did this all week. Isn't that what you want? To know that you have to do what I say."
"Yes. Yes. But, this... it's too...." Suddenly I felt fingers slide over my wet open sex. It took me a moment to realise that they were my fingers. I was obeying you. I was doing it. I began to finger myself desperately. I knew you were watching me masturbate brazenly. It must have been so disgusting to see but I was protected behind the leather. I wanted you to see. Oh yes. Both hands now, frantic, one set of stiff fingers over my clit another pushing inside, arching off the bed.
"Come for me now."
"Yes! Yeeeeeees." I screamed as my orgasmed tore through me. I cried, I screamed, I sobbed, and I jerked and twitched on the end of my fingers. "Oh thank you. Thank you. Thank you."
"Tell me what you just did."
"I came. You told me to! You let me!"
"I know. Tell me what you were just doing."
"I fingered myself for you. For you to watch."
"My cunt." So embarrassed by the word.
"Because I told you to?"
"Yes. You told me to do it."
"Did it excite you to know I was watching? That what you were doing was really rude and wicked?"
"When I tell you I want to watch you again I will expect you to do it again."
"Oh God. Yes... Oh yes."
Still touching myself, I had to recount all I had done and thought when I had done it in the week. Even my thoughts were yours then. I told you of how the idea of doing what you told me shocked me, made me reassess everything. I admitted how I had not wanted to do it at times but the knowledge that I had been told to, that you expected me to submit to your will both scandalised me and aroused me in equal parts. I couldn't understand it but knew it to be true. It wasn't just these things either, it made me realise that it was your domination of me that locked me to you. I couldn't hide it anymore. You knew! I confessed that the feelings of submission created such feelings of humiliation and lust inside me. How mortified I had felt when I would have preferred not to touch myself because of tiredness or mood yet found my body wet and willing at the first touch of my fingers.
One of my hands moved from my sex to my breast. Firmly caressing me, pinching and rolling the nipple in my wet fingers until I was gasping and arching off the bed. I hadn't to come again yet.
I told you of that after my first time in the toilets at work how I worried that you might not accept me doing it in other toilets such as in a bar. I admitted how terrified I had been on my trip into the park at twilight, where I had found a secluded place behind some trees. How I was so frightened of being seen and yet how that fear helped and added to my arousal, thinking that someone may see me being so disgusting for you. How I had initially slid my fingers inside my jogging bottoms shaking with fear and how I had eventually orgasmed over and over laid on the grass with my trousers and knickers around my ankles. How I had gone to the cinema and sat furtively fingering myself in public in the darkness, how my orgasm came and left me wanting more but I had to continue even though I was terrified someone might see. How I had hid under the stairs in the foyer of the flats with my hand up my skirt and silently gave you my orgasm as someone trod the stairs just above me. How I couldn't wait one morning and fingered myself at breakfast, having to live with the denial of the evening.
I felt the bed move as you stood. I could hear you undress. I wanted to watch you, see your cock hard. I didn't move my hands, didn't close my legs. The bed moved as you came between my thighs. I moved my hands back above my head when you told me. Your flesh easily took what was yours and I gritted my teeth as I fought with my climax. You lay on me, your hands holding my buttocks as you thrust into me. You really took me. You took me hard and fast as though you really wanted me. You stopped, regaining your control. Your hands slid under me, cupping my cheeks. Amazed I felt a finger touching my private opening, private no more. It's tip opened my anus. I cried out, almost coming. My breathing was rapid and light. I was stretched around your finger, I could feel myself rhythmically clenching around your finger and your cock.
"Are you a wicked girl?"
"Are you a slut?"
"Oh yes! Yes!"
"Whose slut are you?"
"Yours! I'm your slut! I'll do anything! Anything!"
"Come for me."
You did too.
After a month or so you began to take me out shopping. I still found it hard to realise that you would take so much time with me. I felt so proud to be with you. The clothes you bought me were clothes that I would never have dared before. They were sensual clothes. I was embarrassed by the cost of things though elated that you thought I was worth it. I tried to stop you but realised it wouldn't make any difference.
Gradually I began to understand your choices. You bought 'good' clothes and never tarty clothes. However, they were all sexy in some way. They also, generally, had to be clothes, which allowed you easy access, visually or physically, or were hugging. You preferred cardigans to sweaters, you liked blouses and shirt-dresses, spaghetti straps and wrap-overs, but also tight woollen dresses and thin clingy jumpers.
The first time you took me out shopping was for underwear. You generally preferred me without a bra though expected me to wear one for work.
"I don't want your breasts to sag." I laughed as you said it.
"But you have me without one when I'm with you."
"Yes. Your breasts are beautiful now. I don't want them to sag in the future though."
"In the future?" I looked at you. I stop walking.
I threw my arms around you and kissed you and cried in the shop doorway.
You spent so much on me. Walking around with you made me feel special and I enjoyed the authority you had as you determined what I should have and what was not appropriate. Each and every garment was beautiful and so sexy. They made me blush with embarrassment. They advertised the sexuality that you had unlocked in me. They were naughty, they made me feel wicked. They were often sheer, hiding yet revealing so much at the same time and often small wisps of material that almost didn't exist. The knickers were often only thongs or g-strings, my buttocks to be bared. The knowledge of what I would look like for you excited me.
Amongst the countless packages were hold-ups and a suspender belt with a few packets of stockings. You had previously told me that you did not want me to wear tights. I had already accepted your suggestions and preferences as being the way I was to conduct myself even though you hadn't stipulated them as 'rules'. There were bras, one see-through, one only a half cup.
After you had paid you asked the cashier if I could try them on. You wanted to see them, see me in them. I coloured as the girl grinned at me knowingly. I was going to have to display myself to you in them. Obviously you had seen me in far less, but it seemed so different in the shop. I felt excited in the cubicle. I looked at myself in the mirror. They were sheer and black. My hardened nipples were obvious through the thin material of the bra, my sex prominent and looking bloated enclosed in the g-string. But that was all it covered. I felt naked. The string felt strange between my cheeks. I knew I had to show you and that I was excited by the idea. I hoped that you'd touch me here in the cubicle. My neck was blotchy.
I pulled the curtain primly over me and called to you to come and see, but you didn't want that. You wanted me to step into the aisle of the changing rooms and stand for you to see. I was shocked and shook with trepidation. It never occurred to me to refuse but I was filled with a shy fear. Initially I covered myself with my hands but you told me to let you see properly and shyly I let my hands go to my sides. My breathing was shallow as I stood displaying myself to you in the passageway. As I did a woman entered and raised her eyebrows before going into a cubicle. I wanted to die, but your eyes held me together. I accepted my submissiveness then and I felt a spasm suddenly in my vagina. I was so aware of being virtually naked for you in almost a public space. I had to do a twirl so that you could see my bottom; I was showing all of it. Then I was sent back to add the suspender belt and stockings. I had never worn one in my life before. They were fiddly. I smoothed up the stockings and fastened them to the belt. My body reflected back at me, was it mine? The garments hid so little and yet emphasised so clearly how my body could be used. I felt as though I looked like a tart. I felt like one.
I stepped out again. There was another man next to you! He was holding somebody's handbag and his eyes were like saucers as he saw me. I covered myself again before I realised. As my hand brushed my breast I found my nipples so hard they hurt.
"Let me see fully!" Softly but a reprimand. I lowered my hands again. I felt eyes devouring me. I had to slowly turn again. As I did I could feel the definite wetness at my crutch. Then facing you again, you and that other man. You had taken control of me, displaying me to this man who I'd never met, letting him see me almost naked. I was shamed by the knowledge that showing off my body excited me.
You told me to take off my bra! Your words excited me. The man looked at you, shocked too. He would be able to see how much I would do for you. I went to enter the cubicle, but you told me to do it where I was. It was as though you were showing me off, allowing him to see me unclothed, and I knew I wanted it! It would mean me being disgraceful, wanton. He would see my breasts, how much of a slut I was, what I'd do if you told me to. My heart pounded in my chest. My arousal was obvious to me above the shame. I wondered if you could see it, how wet I had become. I did it. My breasts were bared. You both could see my breasts. I stood, pushing them out for you, and him. They rose and fell with my breath. My nipples ached.
"You look very nice like that." Under my tension I glowed inside. "Yes. Turn around." I did know how I would look. I turned back to face you again. "What do you think?" You asked the man!
"Oh yes. Very nice. Mmm."
You released me, telling me to put on my clothes over the little I was wearing. In the breathing space of the cubicle I shook. My breasts were visibly shaking as I looked at myself in the mirror. I was virtually naked! I looked at my exposed breasts, blotches covered them! I wanted to touch myself but dare not. Unable to control my blushing I returned to you, trying to ignore the man as he grinned stupidly. As we walked the string felt strange between my buttocks making me vaguely uncomfortable, very aware of my body, making me roll my hips. The feeling of having something between my cheeks, yet having them bare, the movement of my skirt over my cheeks and the rubbing of material against my sensitive nipples made me very aware of my sexuality, making me wet.
Over coffee you lifted my chin.
"Exhibiting yourself like that excited you didn't it?"
"What? No." Trying to pretend. Scarlet again. Liar! Liar! The face of the man looking at me.
"I rather think it did. Would you have done that normally?"
"No! Of course not."
"Was it because I made you or was it because you enjoy exhibiting yourself?"
"I didn't expect you to lie to me."
"I know." Serious.
"I... Yes. It did. I don't know why. I've never done anything like that before. I just don't know why. I didn't really want to. I didn't really have a choice, did I? You made me didn't you?"
"Yes. I'm proud of your body. It's beautiful. But you still have a choice, you could have refused, but you didn't want to. You wanted to display yourself wantonly yet have me take the responsibility for your wicked behaviour, didn't you?"
"Yes," mumbled into my coffee. Your hand slid inside my blouse, holding my breast, I pushed against it as I looked around frantically, squirmed as you pinched my nipple deliciously. I wondered if anyone noticed.
"Good. I like to show you off. You'll do it again when I tell you." It wasn't really a question this time. I shivered involuntarily. The idea not totally repellent, but exciting.
"Yes. Do you... do you really think my body is beautiful?"
"Yes. Yes I do. Yes it is. But you lied to me."
I felt my eyes widen. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I really am."
"Your discipline is slipping. You are a naughty girl."
"Yes. I am. A naughty girl." I felt delightfully and playfully submissive. I wondered what you would do.
I didn't have long to wait.
On our return I was made to strip off my skirt and top as you sat before me. You sat on that sturdy upright leather chair with no arms in the bedroom. Being ordered to undress like that, as you watched, always made me aware of the trepidation and my excitement mingling.
"Are you a bad girl?"
"Do you wish me to discipline you?"
"Are you ready to accept my authority to do that?"
"What do you think would be appropriate?"
"I ... I don't know."
"What! A spanking?" My breasts shook as my breathing went awry. You looked at me silently waiting. "Yes. I deserved to be smacked."
"Then you have to ask me to." This was surreal. Having to ask for punishment, yet it was exciting. I'd accepted your 'punishments' in the past. Now I had to ask for one.
"Please will you... smack me Stephen, I should never have lied."
Before I knew it you took my arm and lay me over your knees. I couldn't stop trembling. I couldn't believe it!
"No one has ever...."
"Does that matter?"
I was draped over you, so vulnerable. It was so humiliating. I squirmed around on your lap. My toes were just touching the floor with my legs straight, my hands on the floor on the other side of your legs. You pulled down the string that covered so little until it was just above my knees. You moved my thighs as wide apart as they would go given the restraint. I knew it would hurt, I mumbled my apologies. One hand in the small of my back held me imprisoned. I felt more exposed over your knee than ever before. More so than I had been in the shop in front of that man. I was so bad.
You began by caressing my buttocks. I just couldn't believe it. It felt so good. You caressed my buttocks and thighs, but not my sex, until we both knew I was aroused.
"My dear, your cunt is flooding!" I knew. I was pushing myself up to you. Then you spanked me three times on one cheek, then three on the other. I realise now that they were fairly soft smacks but at the time I didn't. I was whimpering. Nobody had ever done anything like that before. Nobody would have dared. The sound of the smack, then the shock, then the stinging, and then another. I felt the vibration run through my cheeks. I felt like a little girl, a bad girl. My bottom was hot. My bottom was so hot. The heat was spreading all over, all through me. I heard myself sobbing softly.
After that you stopped. I thought it was over. I was pleased that I could feel your cock hard in your trousers. You caressed me again over my sensitive spanked bottom. Then it was another spanking. I sobbed. That was the rhythm, the pleasure and the pain, until they strangely blended together. The heat had travelled suddenly to my sex. The sudden shock hit me when I found myself impatient of the caresses, wanting you to begin spanking me again!
"Please. Please!" I was ignored. I wanted to be ignored. I didn't know what I was pleading for, it to end or to continue!
I began to cry out and make little keening noises in my throat. You spanked my buttocks all over and then on the tops of my open thighs. I found myself pushing up and opening myself to each slap. My bottom so hot, my sex so hot. I couldn't believe it; it felt like an orgasm was building!! I hoped you wouldn't see my disturbing secret. My mind was in turmoil. I couldn't think, couldn't understand. You smacked me again and again. I was gasping. My sex was so wet. I would have come then if you had continued! I lay sobbing more in frustration and humiliation than anything. I was so embarrassed because I didn't want you to stop.
"You have to thank me."
"Oh God. Oh God. Thank you. Thank you for spanking me." My breath came in short gasps. I was so incredibly aroused. I couldn't understand it. I didn't want to, just accept.
Your hand was softly insistent high on my leg but without touching my sex. I wanted you again! I was becoming insatiable. You made me so wicked. I wanted to push up so I could feel your hand on me.
"What do you want?"
"Touch me. Please." I couldn't believe I was asking.
"I am doing."
"You know. You know. Please."
"Please. My... my sex. Please touch my sex."
"It's your cunt from now on, not your sex. Say it."
"Please. Touch me, my... cunt. My cunt. Please... finger my cunt! Please, make me come. Oh please."
Your fingers moved up slowly until they held my cunt in your hand. I could feel how unbelievably wet I was. My knees bent a little, pushing against you. I groaned softly.
"You enjoyed your discipline." Your fingers began to work in me. They were wonderful fingers. I felt so lewd, so dirty.
"Yes! Oh yes!"
"Do you want me to discipline you again?"
"When you need it."
"Yes. Oh please!"
"Such a slut!"
"Yes! Yes! Your slut." Fingers ignored my clit, they opened and plundered deep, I don't know how many. "I'm yours. It's yours, your cunt!"
You let me come. It was amazing. I bucked lewdly on your hand, spraying my juices.
After, I crawled between your legs and sucked you off. I loved your cock with my mouth. I took you deep. I rubbed my face over its hard wet length. I kissed it, licked it. I was desperate to pleasure you. You came in long spurts into my throat. You filled me. I was yours. We both knew it.
After, you cuddled me on the bed. Kissed me softly and cuddled me. You held me tightly and let me know I was safe. I would always be safe.
I felt so utterly submissive all weekend. I was always so wet, so ready for you. I begged you to use me. I begged you to let me please you. I loved it.
Strangely while I relished the feeling of submission to you, at work I seemed to be becoming stronger. Everything seemed easier somehow, and not only that I seemed to be getting far more credit and praise. Charlotte even told me that I had earned a raise. Yet all the while work was becoming far less important to me than our secret things.
One evening you surprised me and picked me up directly from work. Coming into the office, making a fuss of me in front of everyone. I felt so special.
In the car you gave me my blindfold and adjusted it. We drove with me in darkness. My nipples crinkled. I felt every bounce of my breasts; every sigh in my throat was loud in my ears. People may be able to see, I realised. I held the sides of the seat and tried not to squirm. Felt my breasts tighten in my bra. You helped me out and led me to the door. As you walked around the car I suddenly panicked, we could be anywhere! Was it your house? Feeling scared. You opened the car door for me. I could smell your garden. The drive felt the same, the step. The comforting smell of the house. I relaxed. In my blindness I noticed that you had parked in a different place.
"You will be a good little submissive?"
"Yes. Whatever happens?" I sounded so meek.
In the hall you stopped. You took off my jacket and led into the lounge. It smelt different. Maybe you'd had visitors. You took my hands and fastened straps around my wrists, then fastened them together behind me. I was so excited. I was powerless. I was bound and helpless. You could do anything to me. Told to stay. I knew I would do as you wanted. You ran a hand over me, over my breasts, stomach, and sex. Laughed softly as you saw me push my body to you. You knew me. Knew myself. Wet slut. Made me tell you what I was. You could do anything to me now. Couldn't stop you. You had bound me. I was helpless. On heat again. Always on heat for you. Couldn't even see what you might do, wondering if I was to be smacked again. My thighs were wet. I felt you had moved away. I waited for you. I didn't know where you were. Breathing all over the place due to the blindfold. You were there again. You did something to my skirt. It took me a while to understand. Pulling it forward. You were cutting it! Scissors cut through the material until I felt the cold metal against my stomach. It dropped at my feet. My skirt! You cut through the top I was wearing. The metal grazing me. Cut the arms so it dropped too. I was frightened. You cut through the straps on my bra. Cut through the front. Cut my knickers off. I was trembling. I couldn't see. You pressed the cool metal to my hard nipples, the outsides of my labia.
Your fingers sank deeply into me. A grunt came from me. With your fingers inside me you led me to the arm of the sofa. I felt my cunt slid around your fingers as I moved. You helped me lean my chest along it. I opened my thighs wide, knowing I must look lewd, inviting more of you. I sucked my juices from you. Waited
Your mouth to my ear. "Would you like to come?"
Trying to nod desperately.
"You can. Whenever you want." I was so grateful. "Could you come without me touching?" You were near me. Your voice warm against my ear.
"Perhaps." My body rippling. Thrusting up lewdly. Wanting it. Needing it. Not able to reach the peak. "I would if you did anything. Even if you spanked me."
"Is that what you want?"
"I don't know. Yes. Smack me. Force me to know I belong to you."
"Louder. Think of your audience. These people looking at you. Think of all these people listening, watching, waiting for you to climax. You like them to see you like this, don't you?"
An audience? I hadn't thought of others there! Frantic. Nodding without realising. Imagining people there. Nearer. Looking at me, as I'm thrusting, pushing myself eagerly. Imagining what they could see. Grunting. Thrusting. Exhibiting myself. The idea so disgusting, so exciting. Wanting to come for them to see. Letting the play acting take me.
"Have I to ask a total stranger to come and finger you? Finger that really slippery cunt of yours?"
"If you want to. Yes." My body hardly capable of movement, but thrusting. So desperate.
"Who shall I ask? They are all desperate to touch you. You slutty body really excites them you know. You shouldn't be offering yourself like that, should you. Would it excite you if I had you pleasure them? While I watched?" I was moaning softly. "Simon, would you like to go and use her."
Suddenly I smelt aftershave! Not yours! Someone else's! You weren't playing! I tried to rise but was held down. There was someone there! Maybe more! "No! No!" The words coming out quietly. They had seen me. Seen me naked, spread wide. Could see what a slut I was. I couldn't breathe.
"Simon is by your legs, looking at your cunt. Such a wet cunt. Would you like him to touch you?"
"Stephen! Please! I cant. I cant. Oh God! Oh God!" I sobbed. I began shaking.
Fingers grabbed my buttocks. Different fingers, a different man, a different smell. I don't know whether I really felt a finger flicker over my clit. I think so. Whatever, I erupted within my bonds. Grunting loudly. Feeling my sex spray on my thighs. I was out there. Somewhere else. Somewhere warm and pulsing. Feeling my body convulsing from afar.
"You enjoyed that, didn't you slut? Having to please my friends"
Your voice came from somewhere. I didn't know. Were you next to me?
"I cant. I cant... Yes."
"Are you going to make me be proud of my slut?"
"Oh God, Stephen. Please. Please. I cant. Oh God. Yes. Oh Stephen."
Fingers opened me up. I squeezed them as they entered me. They filled me, someone's fingers were filling me. I screamed and came again.
"Make it good for him, wont you?" Only incomprehensible sounds came from me. Smooth naked thighs pushed against my tied open ones. Not yours. You didn't have much hair on your legs but more than this man. A cock bounced against my cunt lips. It stabbed insensitively against me a couple of times and then found my opening, penetrating me. He fucked me. He fucked me hard and quick. I could hardly move. His body slapped against me as he used me. He was going to make me come again. My body was responding to him. I was such a slut. I heard myself gurgling, pleading with him to be harsh. His cock thrust into me. I was so wet. I felt him come. He came in me! I had another man's spunk in my cunt! Yet another orgasm ripped through me after he had filled me with his spunk.
He pulled out abruptly and left me. I sank to my knees exhausted and knowing I must look so disgusting to whoever was there. I was dribbling disgustingly. You pulled off the blindfold. Tremors rippled through me still. The man must have gone. You stood naked. Your cock looked wet. You must have wanked.
"You would have done it for me, wouldn't you?"
"What? What do you mean?"
You held up a handkerchief to my face. It smelt of aftershave, Simon's aftershave. I couldn't take it in. I didn't understand. You knelt over me, your cock speared my mouth. Your cock tasted of me! Tears ran down my cheeks.
Another day, we were shopping and I had been refused permission for underwear under my summer frock. You bought me more. A beautiful evening dress that cost multiples of any item I'd ever bought! It was ridiculous. Nobody would pay that. Grey silk. You told the woman to help me. I couldn't order her away, tell her I didn't need help. My eyes pleaded. You looked firm. She helped me with my dress. She saw my nakedness. I blushed so hot. I couldn't see any response from her, simply continuing as though she had naked women to help all the time. Helped me with the new dress. Silk caressed on curves as I moved, erecting my nipples. It was the most sensual dress that I had ever seen let alone worn. I wouldn't be able to wear anything under it. Any underwear would show. Yet it advertised my body as it slid over my flesh, displaying everything and nothing. The only problem was my sex looked obvious too even after I had tried to flatten my pubes. You told the woman that we'd take it.
"I don't need a dress like this. It's ridiculous. You've bought me so much. I'd never wear a dress like this."
"Not for a while. But you'll need a dress like that. More."
"I don't deserve it."
"But this is too expensive. I don't need this."
"You'll be with me!"
It was carefully boxed for me. I could have given myself just for that dress.
Outside the shop I completely forgot myself. Hugged you. Cried. Danced excitedly around like a child in front of you. Except children didn't have buttocks like mine and they would normally wear underwear. People saw. He laughed and laughed. I dragged him away near tears.
We went to buy a pair of high shoes. A boy served me, flirting with me. Smiling. Nice. Kneeling at my feet. Watching him put stilettos onto my feet. Black, shiny, such heels! My feet on his thigh as he knelt and fastened the thin high strap. Suddenly I remembered, suddenly realised my lack of underwear. The boy looking at my almost touching thighs. Up my skirt. At my face. Knowingly. Stood, walked dangerously. Stood by him. His face near, level with my cunt. He looked up the full length of me. Looked at my frock covered cunt. In my mind I saw his face press against me! Sat down. He removed a shoe. Thighs rolled slightly apart as he took off the other. A boy. Saw up my thigh, up my skirt, at me, at my bared cunt. He looked at my face, then back, both our faces scarlet. I let him continue to look at me for what seemed like ages as he replaced my old shoes. You paid. I trembled. Scared that I had overstepped the mark. Scared my frock would have a damp patch at the back.
You led me quickly into a department store. Upstairs to the furniture? No. Gents lavatory! Took me inside! Empty luckily. Smelt different to Ladies. Into a clean large cubicle. Bags dropped. My dress was pulled over my head quickly. I stood naked, my back against a cold solid wall. My open mouth moved soundlessly as my hands opened your clothes frantically. Kissed. I was naked. You knew! You made me understand who called the shots. Gave myself eagerly. You took me roughly. How I wanted it, to make me humble. Thighs up, apart. A buttock held in each of his hands. Before you lowered me onto your hard cock you told me I would be disciplined for being too forward. Not for doing what I had done! For acting before I had permission. Then I was penetrated. Your casual shirt rubbed my nipples. My body jerked for you. A finger invaded my rear again. Plundered. Desperate. Acting without permission resulted in permission for release not being granted. Pleaded. Had to let you take what you wanted from me. Loving being made to know that you were my boss. Loving the feeling of my body wanting to explode but not being allowed to.
Submissively I cleaned you. Stood to let you wipe the semen dripping from me over my breasts. From my cunt. We left passing a man with his cock in his hand and an open mouth.
You made me to go back to the shop. Taking my arm as I stiffened, realising your intent. I had to do it again. Display myself because you were making me. Waited for the boy. You told him I needed another pair. We went to a quiet corner and you made me sit right on the edge with my hands behind me on the seat. You slid my hem higher before the boy came over. Partially concealed from the rest of the shop. The boy was blushing. No more than I. You were making me display myself. My hem was dangerously high. My breasts heaving. He brought the new shoes, looking at Stephen.
"It's all right. The lady needs your help."
His hands were tender on my calves. Maybe he was a virgin. He lifted my leg. He took off my shoes. He parted my thighs. I let him. He could see up them. He could see my cunt. He would be able to smell it. He took off the other shoe. My hem lifted higher. Weight on my hands. He looked at you again then back up my thighs, which I had parted further for him so he would see my cunt. You had just fucked it. It was bloated and wet. I wasn't displaying myself you had me displayed. I had learnt. As he put the high heels onto me his hand touched me behind the knee. I pushed forward. Lifted to him off the seat as I stood. I wobbled around. Let him adjust the shoe as he knelt, head near my crutch.
"Tell him what you've just done." I looked at you helplessly. I bent down as though checking the shoe and whispered into the boys ear.
"I've just been fucked. Because of what I let you see. I've just been taken and now I've been told to show you again. Did you like looking at me? Does it excite you looking at my cunt?"
I trembled uncontrollably as we left the shop. Pushed to you, let you feel me giving myself. I wanted to go home, have you take me again. Instead you sat drinking a coffee. You made me stand telling me I had a semen stain on my skirt. I blushed knowing you were right. Men looked at me as if my sexuality beamed like a beacon. They looked at me as though they wanted to fuck me. You continued as if nothing had happened. I knew you would spank me. I wanted it.
You did. It was the same as last time. I had to ask to be punished. Undressed for it, lay over your thighs again. My lips felt enormous. I could feel your erection. You caressed me to start and then began, harder this time. I deserved it. I was a naughty little girl. Your smacks and caresses continued. I whimpered and then sobbed as the heat took me again. I felt hornier and hornier as you smacked me, my bottom hotter and hotter, my vagina throbbing.
After, I lay over your thighs half sobbing half gasping. I begged you to fuck me. I was your slut. I wanted to be used. You took me harshly. Your body slapped against my tender bottom. You made me come and you filled my cunt with your spunk.
I was so grateful for my gifts. Made to put away the clothes. Except the shoes. You made practice walking in them. Naked. For you to watch. Your liquids dribbling down my thighs. Remembered being made to walk for the boy. Remembered his touch and his excitement. I practised every half hour. My hips thrust forward, back curved. Ached. Gradually I became more confident, even on stairs.
The pleasure that I had felt was so intense. The last couple of weekends had made me face up to, accept being so submissive. It had been so acutely passionate. I had been such a slut. It scared me. I was certain it was wrong to do what I had done, to feel what I did. You must think I was such a whore. You wouldn't want me. How could you? You would want some demure woman who didn't want all the dirty things I wanted and did with you. I was scared of losing you, of you being bored with me. I couldn't talk about it with anyone. I was so scared.
You phoned on Tuesday afternoon. I knew I was sullen and moody. I didn't want to be but I was. You rung off telling me that you'd be in touch again. I went home angry with myself still. I phoned in sick the next day.
I sat and walked and moped around in baggy sweatshirt and long baggy shorts all day. I didn't want to eat, didn't want to do anything. I didn't feel sexy, didn't want to look it. Tears often ran down my cheek. I felt so alone. I felt frightened and uncertain.
The bell rang. I was mystified. I thought it would be someone selling something. I left it. Whoever it was kept ringing determinedly. I was ready to have a row with whoever it was. It was you!
You stood there looking so handsome in your suit and white shirt.
"Stephen! Why are you here? You've never been here before!" It just came out.
"Aren't you going to ask me in?"
I led you into the flat. I was so ashamed of the mess, of how I looked. You sat on the sofa and motioned me to sit next to you.
"Why have you been crying?"
"I don't know."
"I think you do."
I sat looking into space for a long moment then tears began to slide from my eyes and I began to talk.
"What I do seems wrong. I like it but it seems that I shouldn't. I love it as we are but I shouldn't be doing this... It goes against all I've been brought up with... Women's lib fought to take women away from being under the control of men... Everyone knows it's not right to want what I want... I shouldn't give away my freedom... I shouldn't want you to force me to do things... I seem to want sex all the time... It's disgusting... It's wicked... I shouldn't want to be so submissive with you... I'm just a slut..."
It just all spilled out. I went on and on. You sat and watched and listened. I sobbed and shouted and whispered and sobbed. Tears wet my face, my nose ran, you gave me tissues and I carried on and on.
"You should find someone else... There's something wrong with me."
"Why do you say that?" Your voice quiet, measured, controlled.
"Isn't it obvious! Nobody else does what I do! The girls in the office, the people here, living in these flats. They don't do what I do, want what I want!"
"How do you know? Do they know what you do?" Soft and calm.
"No, but you know what I mean."
"No. I think you are wrong. You don't know what they do either. You are presuming you do. As it happens there is another sexual submissive in your office."
"What! Who?" There was a smile hiding behind your eyes.
"We'll discuss who later. In some ways you are right. People don't all do what you do, want what you want, they all have their own personal needs. Yours are just part of a wide cross section, not even the extreme. Being what you call 'normal' doesn't take ordinary mortals and turn them into saints, paragons, wise women or wise men. You know your submissiveness is very erotic, very passionate, very powerful on several levels, and lots of fun. Isn't that enough? Our relationship is first and foremost a relationship. It stands or falls not on your submission or my dominance but on how well we as partners like, love, respect, trust, and support one another."
"Yes." I began to cry again. How were you so calm and logical. Why couldn't I be?
"What was female liberation all about? Was it about simple power for women or was it about the power of choice, choice to do what women wanted without having to listen to society? You can have that power if you want. You can choose to live as a submissive, or not to. You can choose. It doesn't matter what everyone else does. You don't have to be the same."
"No. I suppose not." Snuffling.
"You seem to have a misconception that the act of submission is based on weakness. Being submissive does not mean being a doormat or not having a brain, opinion and sense of humour or insight. I don't want you to change anything about who you are, how you act, what you say and think. To do that means to change what I love about you in the first place."
"Do you love me Stephen?"
"Yes. I love you. We are not discussing that are we?"
"But it matters."
"Of course it does, but this is about your acceptance of yourself."
"But how can I be certain? But how can you want me when I'm like this? How can I be certain you'll never leave me?"
"How can I be certain about you?" That shook me. It hadn't occurred to me before in those terms. I suddenly felt so selfish. I had presumed it was obvious that I could never leave him because I gave my body to him.
You soothed me. I listened to you speaking and you caressed me soothingly. I gradually became less frantic.
"Do you enjoy being submissive, become aroused by being submissive, look forward to the times when you can be?"
"Yes. You know. To all of them. But you can't want me when I want all that, do all that"
"Yes I can. Yes I do." You looked me directly in my eyes.
"Your gift of submission was the one thing that I cherished more than any other. It was a sign of your absolute faith in me. You are not weak, or stupid. You are a strong woman, with firm views and a clear concept of what you want out of your life. You are a submissive woman. You find pleasure, joy, and fulfilment from being submissive. I do not want you to submit to me out of shame or weakness or fear, but out of pride and strength. I wanted to try and guide and protect you. I wanted you to choose to be my submissive."
"I do. Oh I do."
"No. First you need time to really think it through. Time to fully adjust and accept. This had to come. It had to be gone through at some time. I'm just surprised you didn't stop earlier. But you need to realise that being a submissive, being my submissive is going to be challenging and I don't mean simply this decision, always."
"I'm scared Stephen."
"Of course you are. I am. We need to grow together. Some of your likes and dislikes I already know. Some of your limits I know, some I can guess, and others I cant. We'll need to discuss boundaries and rules, and I'll ensure you have clear direction, firm goals, consistent rules and unambiguous orders. You'll need to be honest too. About what you like, what you find arousing and exciting."
I began to lift my sweater over my head but you stopped me. I wanted to offer you my body. You told me that I needed to think hard first. I accepted what you told me. You left and I felt both bereft at your leaving and strong in my growing understanding. I loved you so much for being so patient with me.
Hours later I went into the bathroom and stripped. I looked at myself naked. I looked at myself critically and then thought, my body is yours, and if you say I am beautiful, then I am. No matter what I look like to others or to myself. I thought that I am beautiful in your eyes, and because of that I can hold my head high.
I thought about what I thought of as your lessons. Having me do and enjoy things I had no idea that I would enjoy. From giving myself that first evening, feeling dominated as you possessed me that first time and since, oral sex, being blindfold during sex, having you control and showing my masturbation, displaying my nakedness and availability to you and then to others, then submitting to being spanked and finally offering myself to anyone if you wanted me to. Even if they weren't actually there. They were all things that I would never have considered without you, but they were lessons you had decided I needed, and I had learnt what I really was from them.
I thought it was a good job that you are happy for me to be your possession, your slut, your tramp, because I am. You make me want to be as immodest and shameless as you could want me to be.
I began to realise how much energy and thought you had put into our relationship for my benefit. I began to realise this more and more felt so grateful that you cared enough about me to spend your precious time and energy so freely on me. I began to realise how your part must be much harder than mine. I have the easier job: to feel, to experience, to let myself go and abandon everything to him.
I began to understand that you thought of me as your pleasure and responsibility, and that you took both seriously. I thought about displeasing you, how your displeasure would be a blow to my soul, worse punishment than any smacking could be. "I am a submissive." I said it aloud to my naked reflection. I was proud to call myself that. My submission was a gift that I did not give lightly, and can only be given to one who can appreciate that gift and return it tenfold.
I realised a number of other things and came to accept these too. They were a part of me that I couldn't hide from. Most of all I craved that knowledge of being under your control, your sexual control.
The following days I felt such inner strength, such excitement. I was a bundle of energy. I accepted what I was and what I wanted. I couldn't believe that I still had the chance to achieve it.
You told me that if I wished to accept my submission to you that I should give you a visible sign. I had to come to your office on the Friday with my sex shaved! It had shocked and excited me as only you can.
The next day, blushing, I bought a new razor and shaving foam, thinking the woman in the chemist must realise what I would be doing with them. I bathed for a long time, luxuriating not only in the hot water but also the knowledge of what I was going to do. Stupidly I began without snipping off the majority of the hairs. Of course it clogged up the razor and I had to begin again. Carefully I snipped as much as I could away first and then rubbed the foam on again. Luckily I didn't have much hair there but it took me ages! I eventually did it three times! It was so scary with the razor scraping over my delicate skin so near to my sex, so near to my cunt. I enjoyed thinking of it as my cunt now. The word had such a dirty sluttish sound. Cunt. Soon it was totally bald, totally naked.
I looked at myself in the mirror in the bedroom. It was a shock! I looked like some cross between an innocent and a wanton slut. When I last was hairless there I was young and chaste. Now there with the suggestion of that purity and my cunt lips flaring with the inner lips bulging out obscenely, I looked like some cross between a whore and a Madonna. My mound looked so obvious now without any covering, my slit could not hide. My eyes were constantly drawn to it. There wasn't simply a triangle of hair anymore; there was a cunt, a displayed cunt, my cunt displayed for you. I turned around, looking at myself from the back, looking at my fleshy lips now obvious from behind too. When I would be spanked again you would see me like this.
As I rubbed it with oil I couldn't help myself, I felt so wonderfully sensitive. I fingered myself over my mound and into my slit as I watched. I had a vision of you having to spank me again because of what I was doing. I sank to my knees.
I rocked back so I was sitting on my heels, legs spread wide and filled with anticipation. As I looked in the mirror I ran my oily hands up my legs very gently, imagining the feeling and sight of your hands. I touched my breasts and teased one nipple and then the other. Both hands began kneading my breasts my fingers occasionally squeezing and pulling my nipples. I could see my actions were making me hot between my legs. How swollen my lips had become was now obvious without hair. I thought how being teased and touched by you made me feel. I knew I shouldn't be doing this but I was desperate. I knew that I shouldn't be touching myself now that I knew that I was going to give myself. I tried to restrain herself as much as possible so it didn't seem as bad, but the knowledge that you would spank me for doing this was pushing me further. The thought of having to drape myself humiliatingly over your thighs and present my bottom for smacking, the thought of how I would look to you, how my sex would unfurl, the feel of your hand caressing and then smacking my buttocks over and over was so arousing. I looked at myself as I knelt open, my cunt open, hot, reddened, my breasts covered in a deep sexual blush. I imagined you watching me. I knew you liked watching me, watching my shame, watching my arousal, watching my submission. I was being so naughty. I could almost feel your smacks. I knew of the ball of heat that they would create in me, how I would know my submission. How you'd build my knowledge of what I was. Oh God, my thoughts worked me up so much. I knew that I made you hard. I wanted you to be excited by me. I wanted to please you.
I slid my hands over my mound again, teasing myself by not touching directly, watching. I reached down and flicked at my swollen lips with my fingers, smelling the wet musky scent of my need. I began to realise I was moaning softly and rocking on my heels. I wanted to touch my clit and bring myself off but I continued to tease myself as the pleasure heightened. I found my clit, swollen and hard, and groaned. I began to speak aloud, begging you to let me come, knowing you wouldn't. I teased more, I couldn't stop myself now, as if I ever could. I saw myself begin to moan and squirm with the impending arrival of an orgasm and as usual when this happened I shoved two fingers from one hand deep inside as I continued to touch my clit. I remembered doing this for you. I watched my fingers fascinated as I thrust further inside myself, quicker and faster and harder. The tips of my fingers grazed over my hard sexual bud. I thought of your fingers there, sometimes so soft, sometimes so demanding, I thought of you inside me. I was panting and grunting, trying desperately to hold back the orgasm just a little longer, just a little longer.
Then it took me. It put me on a different plane; it took me near to where you take me. I put my hand in my mouth not to scream and tasted myself on my hand. I fell forward, my hand still parting my cunt as my hips thrust high. I was coming and coming. I lost myself in it.
Gradually I slowed as the pulses diminished. My skin covered in sweat. I lay on the carpet in a foetal position, my hand over my cunt. I knew I would tell you. I knew that you would discipline me. I knew I wanted it.
I was so excited. I had made my mind up. I was certain. I knew what I wanted. I wanted you. I wanted that exciting world of submission and dominance that you could offer me. Before I had always thought of it as playing, now I wasn't so sure. It was more than that. I was ready, I had no idea of what might happen, but I knew you would make sure I was given what I needed and the uncertainty added further. It felt like a new start, a new beginning. I remembered when we had started. I t seemed so long ago. That girl seemed so innocent and naïve to the one I was now. I had always hidden behind the idea that it all was playacting, now I knew it was for real. Just the thought of putting on my blindfold was enough to wet the tops of my thighs.
As instructed, if I wanted to continue, I wore only my suit, jacket and skirt. I had removed my knickers, bra and blouse before walking to your office. Undressing for you in the toilet had fuelled the eagerness, the expectation, bringing the naughty thrill to the fore. I was wearing only a black silk suit, stockings, suspenders and high heels. My breasts were free and would be seen if I didn't hold myself correctly. More than anything I couldn't believe how sensitive my mound was. My knickers had moved so sensually over my skin and I had looked at myself in the mirror as I pulled the crutch up between my labia, but now the lining of the skirt slid heavenly back and forth over the sensitised skin. My face was flushed. I was aware of the predatory looks from men around me as I walked on the street. They had angered me previously, frightened me. It had changed gradually over the weeks but now I accepted them, didn't hide from them, passively allowed them to feed on me. It excited me.
I asked directions to your office from a bored receptionist and found your office blocked by your PA. She was taller than me, about thirty and very smart, very beautiful, very confident. I felt gauche. I hated her! She smiled as I walked in.
"Hello, I'm Louise. I am sorry, Mr. Weston is out just now, but he told me to give this to you and to have you wait for him in his office." Louise handed me an envelope. I looked at it, disconcerted by you not being here. Expensive paper. I realised that you had written the words 'Instructions for Emma' on the envelope. I could see it was your handwriting. Louise had a knowing smile on her face as I looked up. I felt as though the room had become an oven. I knew I was blushing a deep red. I realised that she might guess that I was a submissive. Your submissive.
She led me into your office. "I must be finishing off. Emma, please excuse me. She closed the door leaving me alone. It took a moment for me to come to terms with the events and then I looked around. It was a large room. You had a modern desk. It was totally uncluttered, other than having a computer at one end. The only other item on the desk was a blindfold. My blindfold. I felt a dribble of perspiration drip from my armpit down my ribs. I looked around again. The desk took up one end of the room, at the other were two sofas facing each other with a table between them. Eventually I looked at the envelope in my fingers. I lent against the desk and opened it. Inside was a short note.
Your instructions were simple and to the point. This time not even my name.
"Remove all of your clothes.
Shoes and stockings to remain.
Stand in front of the desk facing the door.
Put on the blindfold.
Stand to attention with your hands clasped behind you, feet apart..
Wait for me."
I couldn't do this! This was too much. I'd have to walk out. Past Louise. I would be too embarrassed to do that too. It was agonising. As I moved I felt the wetness at the top of my thigh. You knew what I was. You were forcing me to know it. You were forcing me to prove myself. As you had in the restaurant when you called me a cab to go a wait naked for you, you were giving me an opportunity to back out. I could go out of your office. I could walk out past Louise, past the receptionist and back to my flat and my past life. I could, I could! I could but I didn't want to. Still, the idea of undressing in your office was truly frightening. Yet the more mortified I felt the more aroused I became. My naked lips between my thighs were bloated and leaking. I knew I was flushed. I couldn't do this. No, that was wrong, I shouldn't do this. I would though.
I was virtually naked anyway. Shaking I unfastened my jacket and slipped out of it. My breasts on view, my pussy tingling. I paused covering them with my jacket, hearing Louise moving about outside. Would she come in? My nipples tightened, the areoles crinkled. It was cool in the room but I was so hot. Closing my eyes I continued. I stepped out of my skirt. I looked down and saw my naked mound framed between the straps of the suspenders. I could smell the aroma from my sex. I stood virtually naked, my breathing ragged. I folded my suit and lay it neatly next to the blindfold. I looked at it. Finally I had the courage and lifted the warm leather. I stood away from the desk. The blackness thankfully enveloped me. I knew it; it was a friend, a lover. I turned towards the door. A slut clasped her hands behind her as she stood naked in front of the door. I listened from my darkness.
What I was doing left me shaking for a while. I realised that still you had left me a way out, you had given me the chance to bolt. I could dress and run away. You were making me realise it was my choice. I stood upright, my breasts pushing up and bouncing slightly as I trembled and held my small wrists securely behind me. I knew that if I was here, like this, when you came into the office that we both would know and accept that I had committed myself. It was a test. I wasn't going to fail. I felt as though I could hear each creaking of the building, every drawer in the building opening and closing, each footstep. I could smell the smells of a male office, the polish, secretary's perfume, and aftershave. I could smell my juices and the leather blindfold. I couldn't see. I couldn't escape. I spread my legs. I was so aroused.
I stood waiting. At one point I was sure Louise was going to come in. I waited. With each moment I became even more excited, my thighs, noticeably, a little more wet. Slowly the sounds subsided.
The door opened. My whole body tensed. It seemed to take forever for the door to close and all that time I knew that I was visible to whoever might be looking in from the lobby. The door closed. I sensed and heard the tiny rustling as you moved around me. My body was betraying me. Then nothing. Full minutes passed.
"Stephen?" I whispered.
"Be quiet. Don't speak unless you are asked a question and don't move at all." You! Your voice. Thank God! It was you! Tears wet my blindfold as I pushed myself forward to you. I wanted to see you!
"You want all this?"
"Are you certain?"
"Oh yes. Yes. I'm certain. Touch me. Please touch me."
"Be quiet. Have you accepted yourself as a submissive?"
"Yes. Oh yes."
"What are you?"
"I'm submissive." A whisper.
"Say it louder."
"I'm submissive." Yes.
"I'm a submissive.
"Yours. I'm your submissive."
"Will you be a good submissive?"
"Oh yes. Always. I'll be really good. I'll please you, I will, I promise. I'll do anything you want me to." I waited, desperate in the silence for long minutes.
"Yes. Yes you will." I wondered if I would faint. I felt so fearful and overjoyed at the same time. Blood was pumping in my ears. You wanted me! Yes! Yes! Yes! A tears trickled down my cheek.
"I like you like that. Such a pretty mound, such a welcoming slit. Now we can see what you're really for, can't we?" With the previous excitement I had forgotten that I had shaved. I was gasping, trembling. "You look rather wet."
"Yes. You can't imagine. Does it look nice?" I needed your approval.
"Quiet. I will discipline you for that later. Yes, yes it does. Mmmm." I couldn't help grinning into the darkness even though I was to be punished.
Your fingertips ran over me, over the underside of my heaving breast, upward to my tight nipples. You squeezed them until I moaned for you and then they slid softly down over my skin as though they were tears. I was panting. Your fingertips caressed the flesh that was shaven for you. You rubbed over my sensitive, naked, bulging mound making me desperate, flesh pulling against my clit. I was so sensitive. I was dripping before you had touched my cunt. Then your hand cupped me. I couldn't help myself. I began pushing down on your hand, bending my knees, rubbing myself wantonly against your fingers. I was almost coming, my juices dribbling as my vagina was in spasm. You made me stop but didn't take your hand away. My sex had opened up, it was soaking, and I must have looked disgusting. It took me some time to control myself.
"Do you want to come?"
"Yes. Yes. If you'll let me."
"Not yet." I groaned.
Your free hand took my hair and turned my face up to yours. You kissed me softly and as you did your hand played with me. I pressed my breasts against your suit. You kissed me more strongly and your fingers opened and violated me. I was groaning in need. Your tongue took my mouth and as your fingers lay still inside met. I was gasping into your mouth. You left me on the brink.
"Please! Please!" My hips bucked lewdly without my consent.
"Do you want to come?"
"Oh yes. Please. I'm yours. I'll do anything. Please let me come."
"Are you sure? Rubbing yourself like that against my fingers like some bitch?"
"Oh God yes. Any way. Please. Please Stephen let me come."
"Do it." I didn't expect you to allow me to. With my knees bent and apart I frantically rubbed myself in case you changed his mind. Naked in your office, frigging myself in front of you, my naughtiness pushing me further and further. It didn't take long, I was on the edge. I expected to be stopped or have you remove your hand.
"What are you?"
"Your... sub... miss... ive!" As I grunted the words I peaked and burst. Falling against you I tried to keep my noise down. I was aware of your clothes against my nipples as I convulsed.
You let me calm for a moment then led me across the room by a nipple. My thighs were embarrassingly slippery. I had no choice but to follow until I felt the cool back or arm of one of the sofas that I had seen earlier against my thighs. You pulled me around and I heard you sit on the leather. I was facing you.
"Open for me." I eased my legs apart until I felt my cunt open and presented to your satisfaction. My embarrassment was rising again. My breathing quickened and I knew I was still soaking wet as I remembered that someone could still walk in. I was still naked. I stood like that for a while. I think you were looking at me. I pushed forward a little and you laughed at the actions I thought you wouldn't detect. You called me a slut and pulled me over your knees.
I wanted you to slap my bottom. It would help. I wanted spanking. I needed it. I was surprised when you simply caressed my up-thrust cheeks, slowly arousing me. Your hand wandered between my legs and fondled my bare pubis and lips. You must have been getting such a view, bent over, legs spread and bottom and pussy open. I knew that my lips must be puffed out and swollen from my earlier orgasm. Your hands gently stroked my thighs and then came to rest with one on each buttock. Whilst your fingers held my cheeks apart your thumb teased around my bottom hole. I felt so embarrassed as you forced me to stay apart and suffer the tip of your thumb against my wide-open stretched anal ring. You had put your finger on me there at times when you fucked me but this felt like an examination. You released them and I felt your fingers in my liquids. You spread me again and teased my opening with your juice slicked fingers. I don't think I had ever been so embarrassed. I tried to clench my cheeks but you teased my rear opening, circling the centre slowly. I held my breath. A finger penetrated my bottom a fraction of an inch, then more, then more. You held it there. I let my held breath out suddenly and my body quivered.
You chuckled "You like that do you?" he asked. I wanted to say 'no' but didn't want to lie. Your fingers continued to play with me there. Teasing my anus, opening me, running around and around the outside, entering me just a little, then further. It left me. I dare not move. I was told to stay still. Your cool hand on my back, another momentarily opening my thighs, then at my sex before your thumb slid inside my anus a fraction. I was trembling really strongly. Your fingers cupped my bald flesh and then opened my cunt. An orgasm raced at me. Being impaled in both openings was too much.
"Stephen! Please? Can I?"
I fought desperately for control. Your fingers played with my clit, I was so wet. Your thumb felt so large. I almost screamed, I just knew I couldn't hold myself back as you used both holes. Suddenly, even though my body still jerked I realised you were not inside me. I was gasping for air and shaking in frustration. Lights flashed behind my blindfold, pulses of electricity threatened, I had to breathe carefully. You had me stand.
"What do you want?"
"To please you."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes. I'm sure."
"What will you do?"
"See Louise, she is going to be good." I was stunned. I wanted to fall die! Instead my body convulsed in orgasm! As I began to get some control back over my stood silently flushing. My cunt throbbed. My body ached for you. She'd seen everything! She'd heard everything! Another convulsion rocked me as I stood blindfolded for both of you to see.
"Emma this is Louise, Louise, Emma." I couldn't see her. "Tell Louise your role in our relationship." Your voice, soft in the darkness. My covered eyes sought yours. "Tell her exactly." She had seen, heard, everything! No room for me to pretend that I didn't know. Not with a leather blindfold around my head and my body still spasming from orgasm. I could hardly hear as the pounding rose in my ears. My face burning. Minutes passed. I began to shake.
"Yes?" Her voice, innocently encouraging. Everyone waited patiently, I felt eyes watching me.
"I... I... I am his... his submissive." I had said it! I had said it! It was out, the world outside 'us' knew. It made it seem more real. I was shaking all over, sweat trickled down my sides, my breasts rose up and down the inside of my suit. I sensed her move nearer. The outside of her fingers caressed my cheek.
" Are you a good little sub Emma?" Throatiness in her voice.
"I... I try to be." Female fingers stroked my neck. I desperately wanted to go to the toilet. I wanted to hide.
"You are very beautiful," Louise said, "and very brave. Stephen didn't do you justice when he described you to me." It wasn't possible that she found me attractive. I looked up and blindly smiled. I smiled in her direction in such gratitude.
"Do you feel slutty?" Louise asked. I blindly looked at the floor, over the heaving breasts I couldn't see. "Well? I asked you a question."
"What are you?"
"I'm a slut, Ma'am." Where did that come from? I had called my teachers that when I was young. The pounding in my ears was almost painful. It was so humiliating. I wallowed in it. I was so turned on by it. I was shaking.
"She does look very nice, Stephen. She certainly looks as though she has the potential. Lovely bulging fanny, mmm, looks rather wet and swollen. Having her shaved certainly adds to her appeal. Sometimes I don't see the point, but with that cunt it certainly displays her to her best. She orgasms well but a little too easily perhaps."
"She will learn with training."
In a daze I walked blindly as you led me across the room. My thighs were soaking. I felt you sit and I was brought over knees. Over Louise's knees! 'Yes. Yes.' I thought, 'this is what I need.' I knew you were there, watching. I knew what I was. I lay over your knees and pushed my bottom up for you, for her, parted my legs. I didn't want to feel as though I had anywhere to hide. I realised I had been whimpering for some time.
She smacked me. She did it over and over. I lost track of time. She could have been doing it hours or minutes. It hurt. It was wonderfully. I cried. I didn't know whether in pain or pleasure. I was thrusting up to her hand. I wanted to expose myself fully. She stopped. I wanted to cry out for her to continue. I hadn't come. Fingers invaded me. Louise's fingers! Almost all her hand! I came for her. I came for you. I was totally animal. I grunted and bucked on her lap as she fisted me in front of you.
"Thank you, Ma'am." I could hardly breathe.
I was lifted, moved, now I was over the sofa arm. Your cock took me. I was yours again. My body was yours, my cunt and tits and arse was yours, my orgasms were yours. I tried in my stupor to make my body please. As you came me Louise kissed me. Her tongue played on my lips. I realised her kiss wasn't like a woman's kiss was. It was totally sexual. I felt powerless. Then she left. Louise left.
You bent over and kissed me. I loved you so much. I wanted you to want me so much, wanted you to want to command me. I cried softly in your arms until you told me to hush, asked if I was all right. I was if I was with you.
"Was I alright for you? I did what you wanted, didn't I?" I half whispered, half gasped into your neck. "Did I pass your test?"
"Yes. Yes." You laughed softly. You soothed me. "You passed, you pleased me a lot. I'm proud of you. Very proud of you. You're ready to accept now, aren't you?"
"Yes. Yes. I'll be good. Really good. I'll do as I'm told. I did, didn't I? Didn't I Master?"
"Yes. I know now." You kissed me and removed my blindfold letting me see again.