Let me tell you a little bit about me. When my great adventure began, I was
young (age 25) and not very experienced. Oh, I had sex any number of times, in
a number of different ways, but I never felt the wild excitement in actually
doing those things that I imagined in advance. I had a million different, very
kinky fantasies, things that I really wanted to do but was afraid to try, even
if I had the opportunity to try) which I really didn't have. Mostly, my
fantasies involved me as a sort of slave girl, captured by some strong
individual. Some days, I imagined my master to be a male and sometimes a
female, with special events for each one. What I thought I really wanted was a
strong master or mistress, one who also had wild sexual fantasies, and who
would take charge of me and would then act out those fantasies, obviously with
me playing out the part of slave girl, used by master (or maybe better yet,
mistress) in strange and delicious ways, hopefully with an audience watching
and most delicious of all, whether I liked it or not. I wanted strange and sexy
things to happen and not have any say as to the agenda, to be used, perhaps
even to be a little bit abused.
My figure is good, that is, I think it is good, and maybe you will agree (that
is, you will if you like full bodied girls with large, shapely titties). I am
tall, about 5'7", with a nice, full shapely bust, good legs, and a delicious
round bottom. I love being nude, and enjoy other people seeing me nude. I have
even posed nude for a guy, just for fun, very naughty, very sexy pictures, like
me masturbating for him, with a large rubber dildo or for example, his favorite
shot, me urinating for him, the stream shooting out like a waterfall. I did
find that very exciting (though, I would just die if those pictures ever got
out) and no, I won't show YOU the pictures, either. I also posed nude once for
a very, very sexy amateur lady photographer, but that is a completely different
story that I do not intend to tell you today. All I will say about that is that
she was dressed when she took the first pictures of me, she was nude when she
took the last pictures of me, and the very best pictures would have been taken
a while later, but by then, frankly, she was too busy to think about taking
pictures. She had her mind on something else (and her tongue into something
else, too).
I love reading about kinky sex. Sometimes, I go to the porno shops, to look at
the fascinating things they write about, and to look at the exciting array of
rubber dildos and accessories that they sell. I even bought a couple of those
things) strictly as a scientific experiment, you understand. I know a nice shop
in Miami that sells remarkable stuff and I have purchased four different dildos
and a couple of rubber butt plugs. I adore playing with these toys, and had
a secret fantasy about somebody else putting them into me (instead of me doing
it myself). If it was a super-sexy guy who did it, and if he started me out
with a nice, bare bottomed spanking, that would be just great. And if it was a
marvelous, beautiful, dominant super sexy lady who did it to me, that would be
the greatest!!!
In one of the shops, I found a magazine, a Swingers Journal that seemed
interesting. It had just fascinating pictures, especially in the B&D area that
was my particular excitement at the time. The ads seemed like fun. One of these
showed a guy whose area of interest was in spankings, enemas, and Greek things
about which I had many secret thoughts but not much real experience. I decided
that I would answer this particular ad, not intending ever to meet this guy,
but rather, just to hear what he had to say.
A week or so later, I got a letter from him, with a nude picture. His name was
Tom. He was a divorcee. He was about 35, well built, well hung, too. And he was
holding a leather paddle in his hand and hanging from the ceiling next to him
was a large enema bag, a long rubber hose attached to it, and connected to the
end of that, a black rubber looking device that got inserted into the recipient
of this enema, and really did the work. It looked like a huge, erect, black
penis. Believe me, it was an impressive picture.
His letter told about how he liked to be masterful, how he thought that there
was no sight so beautiful as a naked, shapely, female bottom, and nothing he
liked to do so much as to pet it, to kiss it... and to spank it until it was
rosy pink. Then, when she was fully ready and receptive, to give her a long,
slow, deep enema, filling her fuller than she had ever been filled before,
using, of course, a Bardex so that she could not expel it until permitted. And
then to lubricate her pretty asshole, greasing it generously until it was
slippery, and then to fuck it deeply and firmly. His letter excited me
tremendously. He became an instantaneous member in my library of fantasies.
I wrote back to him, he replied again, and this time, included a telephone
number. I stared at that for a long time. I knew that calling the number was
taking a very serious step, that there was at least a chance that I would
follow up and visit him at, as he described it, his Domination Laboratory. I
did call the number. When he replied, his voice was much as I expected it to
be, and the conversation also was about what I had expected. We agreed to meet,
not at his place, but on neutral ground, at a certain coffee shop, nothing else
promised but the meeting. I was willing to go that far in advance, but no
further at all. Oh, I knew I would go ahead and meet him at the coffee shop,
but I did have serious doubts about whether I would go from there to his place.
The day of the meeting came, and as promised, I went. In fact, I got there
early so that I could scout out the scene, and if he showed, and if I did not
like his looks up close, I could sneak out. Well, he did show up on time, and I
did like his looks. We had a fascinating conversation about everything else in
the world except sex. We found a million things to talk about, found lots of
areas of common interest, a few fun things to fight about, too. After a long
time (maybe as much as a couple of hours), it was time to leave. I declined to
go to his place yet, but since I did not have a car with me (I had hopped on
the bus to get there), he drove me home. As luck would have it, a vacant
parking place was right there, almost at my front door. He walked me to the
door, and right into my apartment. What happened next was an awful long way
from what our letters talked about. We were soon petting, and in short order,
he had me out of my sweater and bra, and soon out of everything else. He got me
very excited, undressed himself and showed off a nice looking, very erect
penis. We did have very nice, normal sex. It was fun, pleasant, and certainly
not earth shaking. I am not even sure now that he made me cum that night. I
don't think so, but then, I rarely do in regular intercourse.
He called me again the following week. Soon, we were dating, more or less
regularly, having good sex once or twice a week, but no domination, no
spankings. One evening, we did go to his place. This time, he showed me his
laboratory, a room in the basement, with wood paneled walls, a large, sturdy
oak library table with a gym mat as a top, and a rubber sheet over it. That was
the laboratory. We wondered what it would be like if I was up on it, bottom up.
I complied. Attached to each leg of the table was a leather strap. He put a
leather dog collar around each of my wrists, and then fastened the wrist to one
of the leather straps, stretching my arms out wide, and helpless. Very quickly,
my ankles were similarly fastened. I was now spread-eagled, completely under his
control.
Did he now take charge completely? Absolutely not. He talked to me, and came
back to our early correspondence, and what I had told him I wanted him to do.
And all this time, his hands were wandering over my bare ass. Suddenly, SPLATT!
He whacked me with his big, bare hand across my ass. It stung a little bit, but
certainly did not really HURT. Again.......and again....a few more times. Then
he went to the closet. He took out a leather strop. Long and wicked looking. He
talked to me some more. And then he raised the strop and swished it, fairly
hard, across my ass. It did hurt, but it felt good at the same time. He gave me
a fairly thorough spanking that day, followed by the love enema he had talked
about.. a long, slow enema that took 20 or 30 minutes to go in. Along the way,
a couple of times, I told him that I could not take any more. Each time, he
would stop the water flow for a while until I got used to the feeling...and
then start it again. Eventually, he gave me as much as he wanted me to have,
but then, he made me keep it in for a while longer.
After he finally did let me expel it into the toilet, I got to rest a while,
but then, he did Greek me. He first expanded my anus with a greased finger, and
then two and three at the same time, stretching me. He had a conical, rubber
dildo, a butt plugger. Slowly, almost tenderly, he inserted it in me until the
thickest part was past the sphincter. In it went, the rest of the way, the
thick rim preventing it from going in too far. He asked me how it felt.
Actually, it felt almost marvelous. I was almost disappointed when he pulled it
out and I was shocked when, from his drawer, he pulled out a still larger
version of the same thing. This looked too big to ever get into such a tight
place. However, with patience, and perseverance and plenty of pressure, he did
get it in, slowly stretching me larger, until the largest diameter passed the
sphincter and it was lodged fully up inside me. He gave me a little more of the
leather strop, so I could have the two sensations together. After a while, the
rubber plug came out. He got up astride, put the blunt, rigid end of his cock
against my now stretched rosette. After what had happened so far, that did not
really hurt at all, it was sort of tight, but not painful. And to me, the
sensation of being fucked in the ass by a masterful man was just marvelous,
though I must say that never did I have the feeling that I was out of control.
I always felt that any time I really wanted him to stop and go no further, that
he would have stopped without question. Never did I feel totally dominated,
subjugated, like the subdued slave girl I really wanted to be.
The next time or two that we were together, things were much the same. After we
had done the same things a few times, we began to talk about fantasies, and he
made me tell him mine. It relates to Mrs. Olsen, who was my landlady, and who
really disliked me. If I ever was going to try the slave girl experience,
totally controlled by another, she would be absolutely my first choice.
Now the weird thing about her was that she once had been a strong
disciplinarian, a teacher in one of those strange schools where the students
are punished. I overheard her telling a lady friend once that she did have an
experience. She had a student who badly needed the discipline, and nothing that
Mrs. Olsen ever did seemed to make that one shape up. Repeated applications of
the leather did not make any difference. The cure for her, according to Mrs.
Olsen, was that she was given a thorough stropping, forced to take a number of
tablespoons of castor oil, thank Mrs. Olsen for each one, stropped some more,
and then given a large mouthful of Mrs. Olsen's shit to eat, a tablespoonful at
a time. I overheard this and never forgot it. And, I am sure, I masturbated
about it a thousand times. That was my fantasy. I wanted to be taken over by
somebody who disliked me, stripped, spanked thoroughly, made to eat her pussy,
and then more humiliating things.
Now understand this about Mrs. Olsen. She is tall and strong, a very handsome
woman, with a very potent personality. She is about 45. There is no Mr. Olsen
around. I do not know if she is a widow or a divorcee, she is not the kind of
person that you ask questions of. We genuinely do not like each other. I think
she is overbearing. She thinks that I am wild, spoiled, disrespectful. While
she is my landlady, I cannot wait to get out of there, and she cannot wait to
have me gone. But, she still is very much in my fantasies. This story,
embellished somewhat, is what I told to Tom. He is very interested in this, and
says that he is going to look into making it all happen. He had me write him a
letter, detailing all this, though how exactly he plans to make use of it, I
do not know.
Today, Tom called at lunch time and asked me to come over this evening, and to
be sure to be there before 8:00 PM. He says that we might, just might, have
company, though he won't say who and he won't say what. I am fantasizing about
this, have been all day now, not knowing what to expect. Today is Thursday, I
thought, and today is the day that perhaps I am going to meet my fate. Thomas
had heard my story and questioned me on it in detail. He knew what I think I
want. He was delighted to help me, to play in our little drama. He had my
letter, written in my own hand, addressed to him, which detailed everything. He
had also purchased a pint bottle of castor oil at the drug store, the only item
on the list that he did not have in advance. And he had made the calls, I
believe, talked to Mrs. Olsen, explained our relationship, and had her
surprised (and he says, delighted and enthusiastic) agreement to participate.
He told her that he had been regularly spanking me, had nude photos of me that
he knew she would want to see, and had ideas of advanced discipline for me that
he wanted to discuss with her. She was cautious, but interested, after all,
this was really right up her alley, and it was being handed to her on a silver
platter, so to speak.
This time, for the first time, I did not drive to his place. I knew that if the
adventure was going to go according to his plan, that I would be taken home, in
bondage, by Mrs. Olsen. My car would only be in the way. I went there by cab,
dressed as usual, in jeans and a sweater. The clothes made no difference. I
would be nude as soon as I got there. Thomas' house was no different than at
any other time. The furnishings are sparse, but adequate. The room down in the
basement, which was the "playroom", had wood paneled walls, with various hooks
and eyes, and the large, very sturdy oak library table with a padded top. On
the floor stood a brown paper bag. I was instructed to strip down to my
panties, (but to leave them on) a pair of black nylon bikini panties that he
had bought for me that he liked. I was to put each article of clothing that I
removed into that paper bag. Soon enough, I was almost nude, trembling
slightly, though not from fright. Thomas had seen me nude now a number of times
and had used me in the various ways that a punished girl is used. Instead, I
was trembling in anticipation. This might be the night that Mrs. Olsen would
join us, and if she did, there was no telling how the agenda might go. This
time, for preparation, all that happened was that Tom put wrist cuffs on me and
fastened my wrists behind my back. I was helpless. And I was wondering if she
would appear, and if she did appear, if she would participate, and if she did
participate, how severe she would be with me. I had fantasies about how she
would be dressed. No matter what she had on top, I knew that she would wear a
black merry-widow, a short corset like garment, only hip length, and with that,
black opera-length hose and garters. And of course, black panties that revealed
more than they hid, through which would clearly be visible, her full behind. I
had seen her dressed this way, and it really depressed me. It also really
excited me. I had visions of kissing that large, shapely bottom, of thrusting
my tongue up inside, and I hated these visions. And secretly begged that she
make it happen.
I stood, just marking time. The phone rang. Tom went upstairs to talk, and
seemed gone forever. Then the doorbell rang. I could hear voices as he answered
upstairs, but I could not identify who was there. I could only hope. Footsteps
could be heard, two pair were coming down the stairs, and there she was!! Mrs.
Velma Olsen stood there, looking just gorgeous, dressed in a simple, severe
black dress. She looked around the room, looked finally at me, standing wearing
only my panties, my wrists fastened behind my back.
"My dear", she said. "You cannot imagine how glad I am to see you here. And
looking so lovely, too".
I stood still as her hands ran across my lower body, fondling my bottom, gently
squeezing one cheek of my ass. Her hands ran up my front, taking hold of each
bare breast and fondling me. She took my nipples, each between a thumb and
forefinger and gently squeezed, bringing them to instant erection, and using my
nipples to pull by, dragged me in very close.
"Let me see your tongue", she commanded.
I opened my mouth, showed her the tip of my tongue. Squeezing somewhat harder,
she ordered me.
"Further,darling. Stick it all the way out so that I can see it."
I complied. She opened her mouth, and we deep-kissed. And gently, she bit down
on my tongue. Not very hard, but hard enough. This was not at all what I had
expected.
"My dear", she said, "Tom has told me how naughty you have been. I am not
really surprised, but it is nice to have confirmation that I have been
correct. He has asked that I help in modifying your behavior. Won't that be
fun?"
And in saying that, she squeezed hard on each erect nipple, making me gasp.
She removed the black frock. She did not have the merry-widow on, rather, she
was wearing only a sexy looking deep-cut black bra, and black panty hose. This
emphasized her curvaceous figure, and with her high heels, she had a totally
queenly appearance. Tom, watching closely, his eyes popping out at the sight,
was obviously very erect. It seemed certain that at least for now, he was going
to be a voyeur in this drama, not a direct participant. It also seemed that he
did not mind in the least.
Velma sat, and pulled me over her lap, bottom up. Her hands fondled my bikini
clad rump, squeezing here and there, probing a bit. A hand ran inside the
waist band and squeezed naked flesh, not hard, but rather more a loving
squeeze. She quickly pulled my panties down, tugged them all the way off, and
asked me to open my legs so that she could see all my parts. Her hands probed
here and there. First, a finger touched all around my vulva, testing for
creaminess. I was sopping wet. The finger probed inward, deeply, came out again
and rubbed gently across my now erect clit, almost making me leap off her lap.
The finger found its way between the upturned cheeks of my bottom, found the
rosebud pointing up at her, gently forced its way inside, full depth. This also
seemed to please her.
"Ooh yes, you are just lovely," she said, "just the way I knew you would be".
And she raised her right hand and spanked me fiercely across one cheek of my
upturned bottom. Very slowly, she lectured me on good behavior, punctuating
almost every point with another hard swat on my bare ass, first on one cheek
and then the other, alternating back and forth it seemed, to be sure that each
side got its fair share. Well, each side got more than its fair share. Very
soon, she brought me to tears. This went on for a while, much longer than I had
expected, and much more of a spanking than Tom had ever given me. I was crying
now, not knowing what to say.
I begged her to stop, promising her as a little girl might, that I would be
good, that I would never again be disrespectful, that I would obey her in
anything, just anything, that she might want me to do. She pushed me off onto
the floor, ordered me to kneel before her. Now understand how I felt. I had
truly been punished and my bottom felt like it was on fire. I felt humiliated
to be treated this way, and to have Tom see me treated this way. I felt totally
ashamed of myself for getting myself into this situation. And I felt totally
under her control. But most of all, I felt absolutely, orgasmicly excited.
She was Queen, she was in charge, and what would happen was completely up to
her. What she wanted from me, she would get!!!
She took off her black bra, and showed me (and Tom) a pair of delicious,
shapely, large breasts. She offered me a thick, dark brown nipple to kiss. I
had no doubts whatever about what was going to happen now, and I did just as
she indicated she wanted me to do. I leaned forward, and took that luscious
morsel into my mouth and sucked it lovingly. Shortly, her hand found my
earlobe, and pulled me downward. She shucked her black underpants, spread her
husky, shapely thighs, and showed me a musky crotch, obviously excited that she
wanted me to kiss as a gesture of submission. And all the time that I had known
her, hated her, always I had known that this was what I really wanted. I had
dreamed about it a thousand times, the thought of me being on my knees,
kneeling before her widespread thighs, peering into her open, expectant crotch,
looking at the pink lips and her erect clit, standing up and awaiting my kiss.
I knew the significance of this position. I was going to lean forward and kiss
her there, and suck her juices, and give her pleasure. And by so doing, she was
going to take possession of me, to use me any way that she chose to use me in
the future. I was going to be converted to her slave girl, and she would own me
and operate me. I buried my face in it, her gorgeous, feminine cunt, tasting
her juices, enjoying the strange flavors and enjoying the sexy, gorgeous
feeling of humiliation of doing this with Tom watching. He loved it.
I was still on my knees between her thighs when she reached to the table for
the bottle of castor oil, and a tablespoon. A large spoonful was poured, and
offered to me. I pursed my lips, knowing that no taste did I hate so much as
this. I refused. She smiled, reached over and took a nipple, and pinched HARD.
It hurt, really hurt. I screamed, not understanding her sudden change in mood.
She said, "Now there you are being willfully disobedient. That is exactly what I
am going to correct."
She pinched again, and I immediately opened my mouth wide, and got for my
troubles, the tablespoonful of the castor oil. I gagged on it, but managed to
swallow it down.
"Would you like another?" she asked. When I gasped out NOOO, she pinched again,
saying "Now that is the WRONG answer, darling. Let me ask again. Would you
like another?"
I knew what would happen if I said no again. I did not know what to say. She
said it for me.
She said "'May I have another?' That would be the way that you would say it if
you had good manners".
And with that, she gave me another pinch, this time not so hard, but still hard
enough. And of course, I did ask for another, and was duly rewarded with a
large spoonful, and then a moment later, another and another.........
I was let alone for a while, while Velma and Tom disappeared upstairs. They
were gone for a long time. When they came back, I could see that Tom had lost
his erection. Velma sat down again before me, her thighs spread again, and
beckoned me to kiss her. I did, of course, and found now that she was ever so
much more juicy than before, a totally different flavor, too. Obviously, out of
my sight, they had fucked. She had paid Tom, in a sense, for turning me over to
her for discipline, and she had thanked him in the manner he liked best. Velma
reached into her purse, and found a new toy, a large nipple clip that she
attached to one of my nipples, and snapped a leash onto it. This was a new way
to lead somebody around. She found my coat, threw it over my shoulders, took
the leash in one hand, the paper bag with my clothes in the other, said goodbye
to Tom, and led me out to her car. As she led me, her attitude seemed to be
that of a great lady who had just procured a new toy, and now meant to take it
home and play with it in depth. I was the toy. And I knew this game that we
were going to play. She was going to make the rules and I was going to abide by
them, without any limits. She would be judge and jury and enforcer.
In the car, she reached into the coat, took my other breast in her hand and
very gently fondled it, rubbing the nipple. She turned her face to me, and
offered me a very wet kiss, and as well, a totally confusing mixture of
sensations and feelings. Her hand ran between my thighs, into my pussy, feeling
its wetness. She gently, very gently frigged my clit, bringing me almost, but
not quite to orgasm.
And she nibbled on my ear lobe, and thrust a tongue into my ear, in the
meanwhile, whispering, "Darling girl, I am going to be your teacher, and I am
going to just loooovvvvee being your teacher. You are just going to love it.
Did you enjoy going down on me?"
Considering the remarkable talent she had shown for pinching my nipples and
making me do her thing, I knew I had better give the right answer. I said that
I loved it.
"Good", she said, "since you like it so well, do it again, right now."
So, for another ten or fifteen minutes we sat parked in front of Tom's house,
my face buried in her humid cunt, my tongue sucking her clit, and all the
while, that castor oil was doing its insidious work, taking me ever closer to
that particular point of no return.
Away we drove, finally, towards home. I was certain that I would never make it
there, considering the wild sensations in my bowels. Somehow, I did manage to
hold on long enough, my stomach heaving and quenching, as she led me up the
stairs, firmly holding the leash. I begged for permission to go to the
bathroom, and to my surprise, it was granted without question. Velma was, for
the moment, in her sweet phase. I came back out, and was granted permission to
shower and to rest a bit. Rest for what? Well, as it turned out, for quite a
bit more.
An hour later, after relaxing and watching the evening news on TV, she ordered
me up. My hands were fastened behind my back again, and after some really
loving-type gentle play with my nipples, we began to discuss discipline. She
reviewed my conduct over the past several years that we had known each other.
She pointed to a number of specific instances where, she thought, I could have,
should have, behaved differently. Now, she told me, she was going to teach me a
number of things, but better manners and better behavior and total obedience to
recognized authority were certainly vital parts of the lessons. Obviously, she
was now the recognized authority that she referred to. To determine if I was
sufficiently obedient, she turned her back to me, bent forward to give me a
delightful view of her bare ass, her legs spread so that I could see her brown
rosette, almost winking at me.
I knew what she wanted me to do, to give it a long, wet, sweet thrusting kiss.
At that point, I could not. She said that this was disobedience, exactly what
she had meant. And announcing this, she bent me over the end of the couch, my
bottom raised. She left me there for a moment, went to fetch something from the
closet, and showed it to me, a wicked looking leather strap, about 18" long,
3" wide, and the end cut into three separate tongues of leather. She told me
that it was a trainer, sometimes called a tawse, but by any name, a marvelous
tool for one job, for teaching. She said that nature had provided every female
a place to be taught, her naked behind. There, lessons could be given, that it
might be painful for the moment, but they would be remembered and no permanent
harm would come. And with that, she raised the tawse, and SSSSSPPPPLLLAAATTT!,
a fiery streak, right across the crowns of both cheeks. I screamed out. She
said nothing, and for a long time, the only sound in the room was the voice
from the TV. Time dragged, and my behind was on fire. I had never really felt
anything like it before. And then, SSSSSPPPPPPPLLLAAATTTT!! Again, she burned
my bottom, as before. And now it hurt twice as much, if that is possible. I was
sobbing, crying, begging her to let me go. All that got me was a third and then
a fourth shot of the wicked tawse across my rump. She asked me questions about
things I had done the previous year, about things I had said, about Tom. She
wanted to know if I had been letting him fuck me. I said no. That immediately
earned me another vicious swat with the tawse. Again she asked, and this time,
I confessed. She wanted to know if I had him use me up the ass. I denied it
and got yet another stroke. I confessed that Tom had been using me anally. She
noted that down for future reference, as if that was another transgression that
she intended to cure. I was crying hysterically now, willing to tell her
anything, willing to confess to any sin, and getting in the process, a barn
burner of a spanking. Suddenly it stopped.
She said to me, "What would you like to do, now?"
I knew there was only one answer to that question, and I said it, "Please let
me show you, let me kiss your beautiful ass."
She smiled slightly, bent forward again, and again, offered her brown rosette
to my tongue. Now, finally, I did what I had always really wanted to do. I
thrust my tongue against it, probed inward slightly, tasted her strange flavor,
and gave her thusly, the kiss of total obedience.
She left the room. After what seemed a long time, she returned, carrying a
paper plate. I knew what would happen next, and sure enough, she found a spoon,
and then asked me if I wanted my dessert now. I gulped, cried again, and said
nooooo. And for that refusal, got another two strokes of the tawse. She asked
again, and knowing that this would go on until I said yes, I did so. She made
me request it, made me ask her to please feed me my dessert.
--
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