Cruel Domina Videos

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

Naughty Beginnings

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

The Paddle

Meet bondage babes near you today.Click here!!

As a pledge in a fraternity one of my assignments was to make a paddle for my big brother. It had to about three feet long with a handle on one end with a list of his accomplishments while in college on it. With the help of the fraternity members my pledge brothers an I got the necessary wood, sandpaper and stenciling together and set to work.

The fraternity had a store room behind the gym in the athletic complex. We set up shop there and started making paddles. After cutting, sanding, lettering, and finish coating my paddle was done. I was standing outside the store room admiring my finished product when my girlfriend walked up. Cathy stood 5' 7" with long curly black hair, big brown eyes and a beautiful smile." That's dangerous looking, planning on using it on anyone I know?" she asked pointing to the paddle. She had a twinkle in her eye that usually meant she had something deviant in mind.

"I hope you don't intend to punish me" she said as she swung her nice round ass towards me. She liked to be spanked during sex but this would something new. "I'd better get going I'm late for work" she said before I came up with an answer. "Will you be home later?" she asked. I told her that I would and after a kiss she walked down the hall swinging her ass and turned to look as she went with that twinkle still in her eye.

Later that day I was at my apartment studying when the door rang. Cathy was standing at the door, glistening in sweat. She had gone for a jog after work and decided to stop by my place. She asked for a glass of water and sat on the couch. As I handed her the water I noticed her clothes. The T shirt was OLD. The color had faded to almost white and there were little holes in from being washed to many times. Her puffy nipples showed right through the sweat soaked rag. She had tattered cut of jeans on instead of her usual gym shorts. The shorts had a piece of rope through the belt loops.

"Oh there it is! she exclaimed as she spied the paddle standing in the corner. She got up and walked to it, the twinkle returning to her eye. She picked the paddle up, and took a golfing stance, swinging the paddle as if at practice. Her shapely round tits were bouncing back and forth, barely contained by the sweat drenched T shirt.

"Yeah this might be fun" she said to no one in particular, and then licked her lips as she continued to swing. By this point my cock was rock hard and fantasies were running through my head like a locomotive. She laid the paddle down and sat down next to me. "I have a proposition for you" she almost whispered in a sly tone. "What's that?" I asked. "If you can take me, you can paddle me."

At that she lunged at me! She pushed me on the floor and pulled my one arm behind me pinning it. This was no joke, Cathy was in excellent shape! As she sat on my back she leaned in and said "Cum on sissy, can't the little boy handle his woman" and then she laughed. Thoroughly enjoying herself she began to twist my arm. Reaching around with my free arm I tried to grab her but all I got was her shirt. I heard a loud RIP! as I pulled and Cathy laughed harder then bit my arm. I managed to pull my knees up under me and levered her off my side.

She lay on the floor giggling, her shirt torn up one side. She reached up and grabbed my nipple through my shirt and twisted HARD! "You bitch!" I screamed as I grabbed the tear in her shirt and pulled hard. The shirt tore across her chest exposing her large hard nipples.

I grabbed one and dug in with my finger nails. She inhaled deeply and smiled as if she expected that. She pulled my hand away and tried to get up but she only made it to a kneeling position.

I got behind her and while I held her across the chest with one arm I reached around with the other and unzipped her pants. Cathy was fighting me but not with all her strength. The coffee table was just in front of us. I pulled the rope out of Cathy's pants and put the open loop on one end around her wrist. I pushed her chest down onto the table and wrapped the rope around one of the legs. I grabbed her other arm and forced it under the table. With some difficulty I got the other end of the rope around her wrist and tied it.

Standing over her I said " Now I'm gonna paddle ya." First I reached down and grabbed what was left of the shirt. It tore easily up to the sleeve and collar were it ripped away. kneeling down beside her I pulled her shorts off. As I knelt there I leaned in and bit one of her cheeks hard. I stood and got the paddle and touched it to her ass. "Please be gentle sir, I've tried to be good" she said. WHACK! The blow drove her forward and she yelped in genuine surprise. WHACK! She yelped again but said nothing. WHACK! "Oh Yes!" She cried. WHACK! I swung a little harder. WHACK! "Thats it harder!" WHACK! "OH Yes spank my ass!" WHACK! "Ohhhh"WHACK! "hhhh" WHACK! "hhhh that's ittttttt!" She screamed.

I stood back and admired my handiwork. Her ass was glowing red. Pussy juice was pouring down her thighs and her pubic hair was soaked. I turned the paddle around in my hands and started to rub its handle on her clit. The response was immediate as she jerked forward with a sharp gasp. After her initial surprise, Cathy started to slide herself back and forth on the handle. "So this is was they mean by a woody" she giggled as she slid across the handle. "Stick it inside me" she half moaned as she warmed up. "Oh my God " she cried as I bypassed her pussy and started working on her anus.

I didn't push hard. I turned the paddle back and forth and the handle started to penetrate her ass. "OHHH GOD! she screamed this time as the handle slid into her ass. Cathy pulled forward on the table which allowed her to reach a hand to her pussy. She worked her clit as I began to push the handle in and out of her ass. Wild spasms began to rock her as I pumped the handle in and out. Her breath was coming in short gasps and she was stroking wildly on her clit. Her anus had loosened up and the handled was sliding in and out fairly easily now. Cathy was actually sliding back and forth on it.

"I want you to fuck me!" she yelled. I pushed the handle into her ass as far as it would go then layed the paddle on a chair I pulled over. Straightening up I pulled my pants off. I walked to the coffee table and straddled it in front of her face. "No Darlin' I want you to suck me off." I took her head in my hands and stuck my dick in her mouth. Her tongue slid nicely along the shaft of my cock as I pushed her head up and down. Cathy obliged, taking my woody to the back of her throat. She was a master at the art of the blow job. Still stroking her pussy, I could feel her moans as I pumped my cock back and forth in her face. Heating up I pushed and pulled harder on her head. As I exploded I pulled my cock out and shot jis all over her face. She hardly noticed as she climaxed stroking her pussy with the paddle still stuck in her ass.

After a good wiping down my big brother never new the adventure his paddle had seen.

-The End-

Looking for BDSM partners? Find someone on the largest (3 million members) BDSM personals network. FREE signup! Post a FREE ad w/5 photos, flirt in chatrooms, view explicit live Webcams,
meet for REAL scenes! Make real-time hookups now!

The Sawhorse

Meet real BDSM partners now!

It was a typical Sat. morning...we both had slept in a little ...but because you are a natural early riser i had your breakfast ready and waiting for you before you even began to stir...all i had left to do was to pop in the toast as i brought you your coffee...so i thought i was ahead of the game as i gathered up the laundry and did some light cleaning this morning...little did i know what you had in store for me this day.

I casually glanced at the sawhorse really not thinking anything of it as i walked through the living room...still picking up and tidying up ...and then suddenly out of nowhere you appeared...i didn't even hear you wake up...a very unusual thing as i like to bring your coffee to you in the mornings...and then without warning you pull my hands behind my back...bite softly into my neck and whisper..."Come with me my slut"...nudging me towards the sawhorse and then bending me over it...quickly cuffing my hands and ankles and yanking my head back ...securing it in that position and then walking over to your chair...you had left my head positioned just to where i could watch your every movement no matter where you were in the room and naturally my eyes drifted to you as you sat down in your chair with the coffee you had poured for yourself.

You totally ignored me for awhile...picking up your paper and browsing through it...going for more coffee...making a few phone calls...all the while walking around the house naked...your cock semi hard ...never even glancing over at me ...and then suddenly your standing in front of me..."Comfortable my slut?" you ask with a grin...knowing full well that i'm not...and then you slowly begin stroking your cock...my eyes widening as i lick my lips...a small little groan as i watch the first drops of pre cum forming on the massive head...and then you step closer...leaning over me and whispering in my ear..."How bad to do you want this cock my slut?"...

closing my eyes and whimpering ...my voice ragged ..."i want your cock more than anything Master...to taste it...to feel it in my mouth...to feel it in my cunt...my ass...wherever you want to put it."...."Well, maybe if you're a good girl you just might get it later", you say with a smirk on your face...your hands squeezing the head as your eyes lock into mine...i can see it swelling and getting harder and the juices begin to run out of my pussy...trailing down my thighs as you just grin at the trickle...and then you start stroking harder...i see that look on your face that means you are close to cumming and you just begin to stroke it faster...then suddenly your hot ropes of cum are spraying on my face...into my hair and over my eyes...and you just laugh...."there ya go my little cum whore"...and then you turn away from me again...picking up your trumpet as you begin your practice...your cum dripping from me and slowly drying on my face...

The hours seemed endless on that sawhorse that day...you'd move from project to project...inbetween coming back over to me to either insert a vibrator in my sopping cunt...a plug in my ass...to tease the crack of my ass with your cock...or to bend down and suck the juices from my pussy...each touch only inflaming the passions in me more...your instructions very explicit that i cannot cum...while the small vibe continued it's low hum in my aching walls...just enough to keep me on the edge...

Then finally...your chores and practice done...you pour yourself a glass of wine and return to your chair...spreading your legs wide and letting me see the hardness of your cock...you can see the shivers running through me and you just laugh at me again...oh gawd baby...look at you...you've been on that sawhorse all morning...i've cum on you...you have a plug in your tight little ass...a vibrator humming in your cunt...and i can practically hear your silent moan as you look at my cock...you truly are my cockhungry cum slut...

Watching as you get up from your chair...my body aching for you...eyes running over you hungrily and then seeing you reach for your crop...breath catching...automatically bracing myself as you walk behind me...the handle of the crop sliding along the crack of my ass...and then slipping along my wetness...you walk around me...chills going through me as your eyes rape me...and then your fingers tugging at my nipples...hard...pinching...pulling...tugging...gasping as your hands which can be so tender are now so rough and abusive...and then the whack whack whack of the crop on my cunt...the vibrator slipping in a little deeper...crying out to you as the sting sears through my body...hands clenching into tight fists as you run your cockhead over my lips...your voice taunting and teasing..."you want this don't you? you want my cock so deep in your throat you can't breath...don't you?"...and then you laugh again and slap your cock all over my face...my moans now louder...but you just continue to torture me...

Legs trembling violently now...and then you reach up and release my head...my neck aching from being in that position so long...whispering a thank you as i slowly roll my neck...and then your strong hands gently massaging the back of my neck...and just as suddenly you pull the vibe from my cunt and the plug from my ass...gasping with each item that's pulled out roughly...your hands running over me now...caressing...pinching...tugging...then your hands on my hips...your cock ramming first into my still tingling cunt...ohhhhhh jesus baby...mmmmmmm...damn...your hard rod slamming deep and hard into me...muscles clenching at you automatically...and then just as quickly you pull out of me...and with no warning your huge cock invades my ass...

screaming out to you as the pain rips through me...and then the warm glow of pleasure...just long enough for you to drive your cock deeper and harder into my ass...the alternating pain pleasure driving me over the edge...landing the crop hard on my ass in continued blows as you thrust and pull out...grabbing my hair and pulling out again...walking around to the front of me ...your cock standing straight up as you impale your cock into my mouth...fucking my mouth at your pace...holding my head to your cock deep in my throat and making me fight for air...and then pulling out of my mouth ...grinning at me...your voice reassuring..."you're doing wonderfully baby"...and then walking around me again...your cock once again slamming into my pussy...thankful now that i am secured tightly to the sawhorse...the restraints the only thing keeping me from collapsing...

i hear the vibe go on high and then your pressing it hard against my clit as your cock drives harder and faster into me...feeling your cock pulse in my tight little cunt and then your loud groan...i'm gonna cum now slut and i want you to cum the moment i do....not knowing where i'm gonna get the strength to cum...but only knowing i have to obey you...and then feeling your hot cum shooting into me and your voice loud ...NOW slut...your word the only thing i need to cum now as my climax soars through my body...muscles clenching at you harder...

milking your cock for every drop of cum in you...tears streaming down my cheeks ...whispering thank you Master...and then feeling the restraints loosened...you picking me up in your arms and carrying me to your chair...my body shaking...weak...curling into your chest as you softly kiss my forehead and then my lips...your hands now tender and loving as you caress every part of me tenderly...breath hot against my ear as you whisper..."i own every part of you baby...today was just a reminder of that"

-The End-

Looking for BDSM partners? Find someone on the largest (3 million members) BDSM personals network. FREE signup! Post a FREE ad w/5 photos, flirt in chatrooms, view explicit live Webcams,
meet for REAL scenes! Make real-time hookups now!

Life's A Gamble

Meet real BDSM partners now!

It had been an unusually quiet shift so far. You had the $100 blackjack table and while the lower stakes were doing a business you had been standing there for almost two hours without customer one. As you stood there, a million miles away, you heard a soft voice say, "May I play?"

You look up to see a man standing there. He looks like the sort of individual that if you passed him on the street you really wouldn't have noticed. About 5' 10, brown hair, blue eyes behind his glasses and he wore a mustache. "Certainly sir" as you began shuffling the cards and he took a seat. Seconds later you looked at him and say "chips?" and he pushes a $100 bill forward. "You want one chip?" and he just nods a shy smile on his face.

You slide it forward as you take the bill. He puts the bill out and you wish him "good luck", seconds later it's over. "I'm sorry, sometimes it just happens that way." The smile never left his face as he looked down to see your two overturned cards, one an ace the other a queen. "That's okay, thanks" as he stood up to leave. He took a single step, turned and asked; "May I ask you a question?"

Before you even had a chance to say yea or nea he said, "Will you have dinner with me tonight."

"Oh, that's very kind of you sir but I don't have anything but the clothes I'm wearing and after a full day here I'm not really in any..."

"If that wasn't the case, would you?" You struggle trying to decide what to say and during that silence he says, "Wonderful, I'll pick you up at eight" and with that he was gone.

Your mind raced as you thought of all the reasons and all the questions you should have asked. Well, that was different you thought and as the hours passed it grew further and further from your mind. As you left the area to go on your final break before your last shift you were surprised to see the casino's hotel concierge, a striking woman, a redhead with green eyes named Suzanne waiting for you.

"Hi, are you Sherry?" You nod your head and wondered what this was all about. "I need your measurements, your exact measurements. It's for new uniforms." You couldn't help but wonder what in the world but you figured whatever and tell her. "Thanks" and with a smile she was gone. This has been the strangest day as you sit down to relax for a few minutes. Soon enough it was time to go back to work and as the minutes of your shift dwindled down you remembered the gentleman from earlier today. Well, I get off at six so I guess I won't be meeting him at eight.

Your day done you head back to the employee area where there is a note on your locker to please see the concierge prior to leaving. Great, now she probably needs my shoe size or something. You begin to walk through the casino towards the hotel and there she is at the front desk. "You needed to see me?"

"Well hello again, are you ready?"

"Ready for what" you ask and she just smiles and motions for you to follow her. "We have a suite for you, I just need to get the key and we'll go on up." As she reaches into a slot and pulls out a single key you feel a little like Alice In Wonderland, nothings making sense. You start to protest but she just smiles, takes your hand and begins heading toward the bank of elevators.

"Here we are" as she puts the key into the door for suite 1801 and opens it to show a dazzling view of the city at dusk below. "Now, eight is when he's expecting you so we don't have time to waste. You need to bathe, I have the hairdresser and nails coming at six thirty, your makeup is to be done at seven and everything else is here and waiting for you. I'm to assist you in any thing you need." You stand there in stunned silence and notice that the bed is full of boxes and parcels of all shapes and sizes. "Well come on, get going" as she ushers you into the bathroom and closes the door behind you.

It's a dream, just a dream you think as you turn to see the claw footed tub filled to the brim with steamy hot water, filled with bubbles and scented like roses. You look into the mirror and as you begin to undress you feel like it's someone else there, not you. The bath is wonderful, just the right temperature and you find yourself so relaxed that you begin to think maybe a dream is not so bad. As you wash, the day washes away and you find yourself smiling wondering what's to come next.

You step from the tub and see a white robe laid out for you. It feels divine and as you open the door and step back into the main room there are three people now, instead of one. "Come, come my dear. We've got work to do." A quick shampoo and then the stylist begins his work, meanwhile your nails are being manicured and bright red polish is being applied to them. Fifteen minutes later he declares himself finished. "Makeup is next" and yet another new face shows up and begins his work.

It's 7:30 when he finishes and the concierge ushers everyone out of the room. "Well, the only thing left is to get you dressed. Here you're going to need my help with this." You look to see her holding a white corselet and you bite the corner of your mouth as your nerves start in. "Oh, come on don't be shy, we haven't much time left." Slowly you move towards her, turn and drop your robe. She takes the garment and slips it around in front of you and begins lacing it up in the back. You can't help but notice that it leaves your breasts open just supporting them underneath.

As the laces grow tighter and tighter, your waistline grows smaller and smaller and your nerves begin anew. "There, all finished" she announces, "Why you're shaking like a leaf, here sit down on the bed and let me do this." You sit down as she begins rolling one stocking up your leg and attaching it to the corsets garters. All of a sudden you realize she is looking directly at your most private of areas and the look in her eyes is one of almost animal like lust. You feel the heat rise to your face and you know how you must be blushing. Seconds later both stockings are on and you're instructed to stand up. She helps you step into the white lace bikini panties, taking her time sliding them up your legs and then making sure they fit just right. You feel as if you might faint right there and then.

Your head is spinning as she helps you slip into your dress, then a pair of high white heels and finally jewelry. It's all like trying to make your way through the fog until suddenly you hear a voice saying, "My god, you look good enough to eat." Waking from your momentary lapse you see the woman who was attending letting her eyes run up and down you while you notice she is licking her lips. You turn so that she can't see your embarrassment and with a gasp see yourself in the mirror. Your shining brown hair frames your face beautifully, cascading down your back and the makeup has brought out the sparkling blue in your eyes. The dress fits you like a second skin, off the shoulder showing the tops of your breasts, almost inviting another's touch.

You can't help but stare into the mirror, mesmerized at the incredible creature reflected back at you. Two hands encircle your waist and her soft voice whispering in your ear says "I meant what I said, you look delicious." A chill runs down your spine as her hands slip from your waist and smooth the dress over your hips. She comes around in front of you and has that same look in her eyes but says "It's almost eight, come along, you mustn't be late. She takes your hand as you leave the room and make your way back to the elevator. This stop requires a private key which she pulls from her jacket and the next thing you know you're on a floor not advertised by the hotel for public use. There is a single door in front of you and she motions for you to go. As you turn and watch the elevator doors close you can't help but feel but she was taking her pleasure from you as she went.

The doors shut and you turn to look at the door. It doesn't seem any different from any you've seen here but you do notice that it doesn't have a number on it. You remember how your mind raced when all of this went into motion earlier that day and that's nothing compared to the way you feel now. You walk back to the elevator but notice there's no button to push, you need one of those keys. There's no hallway leading either way, the only thing there is that door and you. You take hesitant steps until you're standing in front of it, take a deep breath and you knock.

Seconds later the door opens and he's standing there. He has that same shy smile but you can see his eyes dancing in delight as he takes you in. "Please, come in. I hope you don't mind eating in?" You step inside and find yourself holding your breath. The entire skyline of the city is lit up and you have a view of it all. There's a table set up for two with food awaiting and you notice that he's standing behind a chair and has pulled it out for you. You sit and can't help but notice that he holds the chair just a second or two because of the view from above that he's getting of your magnificent breasts.

As he moves back over to his seat you can feel the flush rising from your face and you're glad that the only illumination comes from the city below and the candles that are lit. He pours from the bottle, a wine and he offers some to you for a taste. You can't help it, your hand shakes slightly as you reach out, take the glass and your hands touch. Like an electrical spark going off you pull the glass back quickly and down the contents. He still has that smile as you hold your glass out and he fills it for you. As the minutes pass and the small talk begins you hardly touch your food but you continue to enjoy the warmth that the wine is bringing you.

He stands up, walks towards you and asks, "Dance with me?" and for the first time you notice the music playing in the background. You rise and as he takes your hand he pulls you in closely. Your body touch and you feel yourself beginning to tremble again. He leans back, looks at you with that smile and pulls you close again. Your head on his shoulder, your bodies moving as one, you dance. In your mind you feel the corsets restraint, the sheerness of the stockings, your breasts rising with your breathing and the raw sexual beat that is your heart.

You dance for what seems to be forever until he slows and looks at you once again, the smile a fixture on his face. "I have an idea" he says, "You had all the luck today at the blackjack table. Will you play another game with me?" The combination of the wine, the dancing, the evening, everything combines and you smile happily and nod your agreement. He walks over to the bar area and pulls out a deck of playing cards. As he shuffles them he says, "Let's cut for high card. If I win the night goes on and we do what I would like to do. If you win, then it's your choice for the rest of the evening. Fair?" He spreads the cards out facedown on the table and motions for you to go first.

You reach out shakily and pull one of the cards out; a bright smile fills your face as you turn the king of clubs up. "That will be tough to beat, but let me try." He reaches down, picks up a card and looks at it. You stand there not knowing whether you're happy you won or sad and then he looks up at you with smoldering eyes and shows you the ace of hearts. Now it's your heart, which seems to skip a beat as he walks toward you and takes you by the hand and leads you towards the bedroom.

As you enter the room you see the same panoramic view of the city alight and he stops you directly in front of the window. Your body trembles as you feel him behind you, his hand on your shoulder and then slipping down to the zipper for your dress. It tumbles to the floor and you see your reflection and him behind you hungrily looking at the feast before him. He takes your shoulders and kisses you gently on the back, moving slowly up to your neck and then to your ear. "Wait here" he whispers and he moves away into the dark.

You hear your heart, hammering at a pace caused from a combination of fear, lust, excitement, all these things that this day had come to symbolize. You feel frozen to the spot, helpless to move, to run, to do anything that might change the coming events. Then, he was back. Once again he moved closer to whisper, "Are you familiar with sensory deprivation?" You turn your head from side to side and he continued, "When one sense taken is take away the other become more acute. Here, let me show you." A white silk scarf came around in front of you and seconds later you were blindfolded.

He was so very right. The moment you couldn't see anymore your hearing took over trying to find where he was. His hand went to your face and your sense of touch was magnified like never before. You jumped as if bitten and you heard the soft chuckle that came forth from him. "Now, put your hands behind your back." As if hypnotized you hands seem to move of their own free will as they freely obeyed. You felt the scarf as he took both wrists and put them together. And then you had lost her ability to touch.

Now all you could do was stand there. Your hearing trying so hard to compensate for the lack of your other senses heard him as he walked all around you. Viewing you from each side, the sound of your own breathing as loud as the heartbeat which continued to pound in your ears. He moved close to you, close enough for you to feel him and then with his arm behind your back and his other moving down past your hips he picked you up and carried you to the bed. Gently he lowers you and you lay there, hands tied, unable to see what's happening and your mind wondering what's next.

As the seconds pass they begin to feel like an eternity, no touch, and no sight and for some reason she hadn't heard him. Had he left the room? What was he doing? She tried to move her wrists just to see and sure enough they had been tied securely, there was no escape from the knots he'd used. Just when she felt that she should cry out she felt his rough kiss, his mustache on her legs as he began to kiss his way up the nylon stockings. She heard a murmur of pleasure escape from her lips as his kiss left the stockings and began to caress bare flesh.

His kisses and his warm breath continue, moving ever so slowly, almost painfully slow. As he nears the spot that might send you over the edge he simply sighs and moves on. So this is what insanity feels like, you're going nearly crazy from it. He's kissing your garment now, the studs on the front as me moves closer and closer to your heaving breasts. Then, just as he reaches them, he inhales deeply from the spot of your cleavage and then moves on to your neck. Almost crying out now from the frustration, he nibbles at the tender flesh there until moving up and with a single thrust puts his tongue between your lips and kisses you passionately.

It felt like you were going under, like you dare not breathe or you would break the spell. Suddenly, the kiss stopped, his lips were gone and you were left gasping for air. You turned your head frantically from side to side trying to decide which way he had gone. Then, hands this time move onto your hips and slide the lace down off your legs. Next, your ankles, the feel of silk as it's being tied and one leg is attached to the bedpost. Moments later, the second. It's quiet once again and you feel like you can't get enough air as you're helpless to what is to come next.

The bed moves as another joins you and it only takes the tongue touching you to start your orgasm. Your hips buck and the tongue moves with them, lapping at the moisture which comes flowing forth. You remember his words about sensations being so much more intense and almost scream as you writhe under the force of your bodies' reaction. Wave after wave of pure pleasure and that tongue spurring you on to greater and greater heights. As you rise to your crescendo and your body begins to relax you begin to realize just how light the touch of the tongue was and how long the fingernails seem that are holding your lips apart.

And then, they were gone. Your head spun from the orgasm that had wracked your body. Who had it been? Or, had the wine, the taste of bondage, all the effects of the day caused you to imagine it? Before you could decide a weight was placed on the bed and the familiar scent and rough texture of the mustache began kissing at your neck, moving downward. "I, I think that there might..." you tried to speak in a voice filled with the passion of the night and maybe, just a little fright. "Shhhh, quiet my dear" as his lips took a new course and once again they touched yours, his tongue darting into your mouth. His kiss again left you breathless and by the time you caught yours he was down to your breasts and you knew words were going to be impossible.

His tongue flicked across the sensitive skin, never quite touching where you so desired. Little bites, nibbles of skin and you felt the familiar tingling that always starts in your tummy, you knew that the moment he would touch your nipples that you would be lost. But that time continued to be in the future as he let his tongue, his teeth travel from one to the other. That feeling now ran from the top of your head to the soles of your feet. Your breath coming in short gasps, you could hear your voice whispering "oh, please, please." and you could feel your nipples as they hardened to tiny points even without his touch. A small chuckle came from his throat as he said "Do you remember what I told you about senses? Even though you've lost your ability to touch, the feeling of touch is so, so much more incredible isn't it?" as he placed the nipple clamps over yours.

Set as they were on the lightest touch, the pressure of the clamps against the skin that had been eagerly awaiting any type of contact sent you into a writhing mass. This wave of pleasure triggered by the pain, at least your body believed it was pain, combined to take you to a place you had never been before. You wonder if this might be what madness feels like, you can almost see yourself from above, your beautiful body in the throes of pleasure, a man watching the effect the night is having upon you. You know you're babbling nonsense but you don't care. All you care about is the moment and the moment is incredible.

You don't know how long it goes, you just enjoy it, welcoming each new peak, each new sensation. Finally, with almost a burst of fireworks going off inside of you, you feel yourself coming down to earth. But wait, now he's between your legs, your bound ankles giving him access to your most hidden secret. "Sweet, so very sweet" he murmurs as his lips meet yours and the ride begins all over again. He is incessant in his attention, no sooner does one end than another begins and you are helpless, you are simply the recipient of pleasure, the vessel from which it arrives. Time after time until time seems to know no boundaries.

Just when you think you can take no more the final wave passes and you feel yourself growing limp as every nerve in your body is at it's most alive. The weight on the bed shifts and his voice whispers in your ear. "Just one more thing before I claim my prize. Your cries are getting louder and we don't want to alarm anyone." With that he takes another silk scarf and places it between your lips lifting your head gently and then ties it securely behind your head. "There, now when I return I shall take my pleasure." Seconds pass and then a weight on the bed, much lighter than before.

You feel someone as they straddle your face and then voice whispers just as you remembered it from earlier tonight. "You were good enough to eat and now you will return the favor." The gag is slipped from your mouth and before you can issue a sound she has planted herself on your face. The animal like lust which has controlled you all evening takes over and quickly you put your tongue to work, delving into each crack and crevice you can find. Her hips roll with the pleasure you're bringing her and seconds later she sighs and you taste the fruit that her pussy bears. She lifts up suddenly, quickly puts the gag back in place and is gone, again.

She must have heard him coming because moments later he is there at your side. You feel his presence as he sits on the bed, you try to tell him of the presence of another but the gag enables you only to issue a muffled warning. He takes it for a sign of your pleasure and chuckles as he moves down and unties your ankles from the bedposts. Pulling them gently up he presses against you and slides in as you issue forth yet another muffled cry, this one of sheer pleasure.

As he presses closer and begins to move in and out, slowly at first, you feel as if you could swallow him whole. He fills you completely but you're so wet, so far gone having given into the carnal pleasures that you've experience throughout the entire evening. His pace begins to quicken and you hear yourself behind the gag as you arch your back, a guttural moan escaping your lips as you begin your journey again through the ride that is your orgasm. He lifts you by your legs high, penetrating deeper and deeper as he continues relentlessly at that slow almost maddening pace.

His stamina is amazing, he seems to be able to go on forever but soon enough you hear his breathing becoming ragged, his pace increases and he begins to move in and out at you with an urgency like never before. Faster, faster and faster until with almost an animalistic roar he fills you with his seed. You feel his body convulse and yours matches him as for the final time as you reach your plateau and together you come as one. Both of you dancing together, savoring the moment and then it's finally over.

You hear his breathing, almost panting, as he still towers above you. You feel him slide out and he tumbles to the bed beside you. Your body still tingling, your mind still racing from everything that has happened and then the blindfold lifts. Your eyes open wide as the concierge looms over you, a wicked smile spread across her face. You look quickly to your side and see him asleep, motionless on the bed. "He's alright my dear, just a little something I put in his drink" and you see the glass on the nightstand beside him. She grabs your hair and pulls your face toward her. "Now, I want you to listen closely, alright?"

You're eyes are still wide with fright and you can tell that brings her almost as much pleasure as you did earlier. "It's quite simple, he can live or he can die, it's up to you. You can continue with this type of assignment when I feel the opportunity arises or you can not. You may not say a word to him or anyone about our arrangement. As I said, it really is simple. If you do it, he lives. If not", and she shows you the knife she's wielding. She reaches down with it and gently lifts your gag off, the cold blade making contact against your suddenly icy skin. "Well?"

"I'll do it, please don't hurt him."

Her smile widens as she nods and then begins to caress your face and the tears that have begun to flow. "Just one more thing before I go" and she moves back between your legs and begins to partake of the feast there. You try so hard to not issue a sound but she is quite talented at what she does and you can not stifle the cry that comes forth as you come again. She makes her way forward, licking her lips in sheer ecstasy and then kisses you, his juices and yours mingling as one between her and you. Finally, she breaks the kiss off and before you can say a word the gag is back in place, the blindfold is put back over your eyes and whispering in your ear she says, "Until next time my dear" and she is gone. You lay there in the darkness, wondering what deal with the devil you've made and what you'll say to him when he awakens...

-The End-

Looking for BDSM partners? Find someone on the largest (3 million members) BDSM personals network. FREE signup! Post a FREE ad w/5 photos, flirt in chatrooms, view explicit live Webcams,
meet for REAL scenes! Make real-time hookups now!

Just Desserts

Looking for real BDSM scenes? Find someone now!

"Strip," you say, standing, watching me.

I obey, just a little shy; we've been apart so long. I fold each piece of clothing with care as it comes off and set it to the side, out of the way. My black bra and panties come off last, slowly, and then i'm standing naked in front of you. Again.

"Turn," you tell me, your voice cool, your forefinger sketching a circle in the air between us. A blush heats my body as i obey, my feet shuffling, my breasts and ass and mound open to your eyes. You beckon me toward you and reach between my legs, testing my heat, and i shake a little at your touch. It's been so long since you've touched me, way too long, that time a thing of my doing, my fault and my responsibility.

You kiss me softly then, with melting tenderness, then turn me around, my back toward you. Reaching from behind, you press a moist finger between my lips and i taste myself on you as i suck. After a moment, you draw my arms back and i feel the smooth coolness of the leather cuffs binding them firmly. Tears prick into my eyes as i surrender into the restraints, pulling slightly to test them. I know from long experience that my only way out is via your will.

You direct me to the bed, pushing me onto my back, standing over me, looking, assessing, and reacquainting yourself with my body. You drag the end of the whip we bought one cold winter's day over my skin. I remember the humiliation and wild excitement i felt in that rough livestock supply store as i purchased the whip, sure the clerk knew i didn't have a pony to use it on. Smiling, you watched from across the store as i struggled for calm.

You slap at the V of my legs. "Open." I do, widely, immediately. You flick the whip then, quickly, several times. It hits my mound lightly and smoothly, barely touching my skin. I gasp at the sensation and heat floods my mind. Before you've begun, you stop, dropping the whip to the floor.

You shift me, your hands moving over me almost impersonally as you unfasten my arms from behind my back. Without haste, you refasten them up and over my head, slipping the chain that links my cuffs through a sturdy hook set into the headboard. Need begins to cloud my mind, my coherent thoughts begin to collapse and become wordless and primal urgings toward the flooding pain and wild pleasure I hope will come. You know what I'm feeling. You can see it. You understand my needs.

You slide onto the bed next to me. Your hand strokes over my body lightly while i quiver a little beneath it. Leaning over, you kiss me again, softly, tenderly, with a promise of passion. I moan into your mouth, melting into you. Your mouth moves down my neck, licking and nipping, and i arch open, exposing my throat to your teeth and lips. I feel your mouth on my skin, your body against mine, and i yearn toward you.

Your hand snakes down the front of me and cruelly twists one of my nipples. I cry out and you lean back, watching, your fingers still pulling and twisting my sensitive skin. I look up at you, your eyes bright with long-repressed need, and the silence flows between us.

"Please ..," i whisper, then stop speaking as you twist more tightly.

Meeting my eyes, your face is suddenly closed and cold and your words lash into my heart. "Please? Please what? I can fuck your cunt or your ass or your throat. I can give you pleasure or just take it. I can spank you, beat you, or mark you. I can apply that brand we talked about. You are mine." You lift your hand to stroke my face gently, then slap my cheek hard. The sound rings into the silence of the room and crimson heat blooms across my cheek. "You violated the trust between us when you left but, still, you are mine. That's not changed, can't change, won't change."

Gently, easily, your fingers stroke over the skin you just twisted, touching the nipple that continues to harden. "Lift your legs," you tell me, and I do. You fasten cuffs to my ankles, the leather smooth and solidly strong on my skin, and then fasten the cuffs together with a short chain. Pulling hard, you haul my legs over my head, affixing them to a hook in the wall above the one that holds my hands. I burn with the stretch; my body is bent almost double, my ass and cunt are open and exposed. Only my head, shoulders, and upper back still touch the bed. I strain against the bonds, moaning, and murmur softly, "Please, please, this hurts."

You say nothing but reach to caress my ass. Softly, you stroke my skin, over and over, touching my brown hole lightly, arousing me. Then comes a swift SWAT against one cheek followed immediately by another against the other cheek. Then another, and another, on and on and on, alternating sides, up on my hips, lower on the tops of my legs, your hands hard and heavy against my skin. My whimpering turning to pleading and writhing in my bonds, becoming louder, more frantic, until my ass is burning and bright red.

You stop, spreading my cunt lips and press a fingertip against my wet clit. I gasp at the heat that spears through me, shaking. I try to buck against your fingers but can't move. I want to shove your fingers against my clit, into my body, into my ass or my cunt, but i can't move. As always, the control is yours.

You pause and look down at me, watching me squirm. "I think my little slave likes this. You like this, don't you?" I only moan in response. Spearing hard into my cunt with three fingers you fuck them into and out of me roughly while i shake and gasp. "Don't you?" you ask. Words tumble from me then, moanings and pleadings for more, faster, harder, more more more please .. Master, please ..

But you only pull out of me, away from me. I protest wordlessly, almost peaking, as you move away from the bed. You take a length of black lace from a drawer and move back to the bed, smiling down at me a little sadly. Gently, you lift and hold my head while you wind the lace around and around my head, covering my eyes. After my sight is blocked, i feel the cool hardness of my leather gag nudging my mouth. I open, obeying your wordless command, knowing you'll simply force my mouth open, force the gag into my mouth and down my throat, if i don't obey on my own. "Good girl," i hear, and i glow at the approval i hear in your voice.

Your hands run softly over my ass, the skin there still tender and hot. "We're not done, slave," you tell me. I scream around the gag as a clamp bites into my nipple. Searing spiky pain radiates through my nipples and into my breasts as the other is clamped.

Again, your hands move on my ass, smoothing, touching, and caressing. A couple quick kisses, your beard scratchy and tickly against my hot skin. "We're not done," you repeat against my skin. Again you move away from me and i can hear you sorting through the collection of whips and paddles and belts and slappers you've acquired or made over the years. In your voice i recognize the disappointment and hurt and anger staining the respect and love between us. I know i caused it, know that i hurt you more than you've been hurt in a very long time.

I hear you move back to the bed and know you're standing beside it. "Punishment," you say soberly, a finger tracing gently over my face, "isn't fun. It isn't erotic. It isn't a thing I want to do to you but a thing that must be done. Nod if you understand that, b." I nod, recognizing the bleakness in your voice. Oh gods! Why did i hurt you like this?

"Ass, thighs, and hips," you say, "Cane. Thirty strokes." You pause and i begin to wiggle and scream around the gag, protesting, scared. "That's ten for each month you've been gone," you say firmly, "and then we'll put this behind us."

You step back and i still, tense and disbelieving. In all our time together, you'd never really had to punish me for anything. You'd had to be firm, of course, but i'd been a classic 'good sub', always a willing masochist and slave to you. I'd always tried hard to please you. Well, until i left so abruptly and hurt you so deeply in the doing.

I hear the hot tight SWISH of the thin supple cane a fraction of a second before pain explodes across my butt. Arcing, tensing, my hands form fists against the wildly blooming pain. "One," you say.

Another stroke lands high on my hips, welting my skin and sending me spinning into gagged, bound, screaming denial. "Two."

Another, across my thighs, burning the mark of the viciously supple cane into my sensitive skin. "Three."

Garbled, keening noises come from my throat as the blows continue raining down over my skin, hot and hard, demanding my immediate focus. Pain, not erotic, not fun, but real pain, intense and terrible, stabs into my soul and rages across my skin as the punishment continues.

My nails dig bloody crescents into my palms and i scream my voice into hoarse tatters behind my gag as the strokes continue to mount. "Fifteen."

I almost faint as the cane rips into my skin and i feel blood splatter in the wake of another blow. "Eighteen."

Lost in the pain, i urinate and the acid fluid flows down over my welts and cuts and causes me more agony. "Twenty-seven," you tell me.

Another atomic burst of pain across the welts and bruises and cuts of the former cane strokes. "Twenty-eight."

Lightning jagged pain flays me open, the stroke hard hard too hard against already beaten skin. "Twenty-nine."

I am shaking and sick, torn and welted and bloody. Waiting. The last stroke. The cane whistles down and .. stops. You touch it gently against my skin. "Thirty," you say, sounding ill.

I sag in my bindings, gasping as you remove my gag. I try to form sounds but short, mewling moans are all i can manage. You remove the clamps you'd fastened to my nipples before the caning, rubbing lightly over my hard, bloodless nubs. I twitch at the return of sensation but it is nothing compared to the incredible pain that still burns white-hot against the skin of my ass. You free me from the hooks and remove my cuffs, then turn me to lie on my tummy. I smell something medicinal as you touch over my welts and cuts and bruises with a soft wet cloth. It stings and burns. I try to move away from it but am too weak and you hold me too firmly. Finally, you smooth a cool salve over my skin and then move off the bed. "Stand up," you tell me, "over here, off the bed."

Slowly, made clumsy by the pain from the caning, i struggle off the bed and stand before you, crying but trying not to droop, trying to move toward acceptance. With gentle and careful fingers, you unwind the lace from around my eyes, permitting me light and sight for the first time since the punishment began. You frame my face with your hands, lift my chin and force my eyes to meet yours. Your thumbs stroke tears from my face. You bend to kiss me tenderly and I hear great pain in your voice when you speak.

"Don't do that again."


-The End-

Looking for BDSM partners? Find someone on the largest (3 million members) BDSM personals network. FREE signup! Post a FREE ad w/5 photos, flirt in chatrooms, view explicit live Webcams,
meet for REAL scenes! Make real-time hookups now!

Paper or Plastic

Meet real BDSM partners now!

 
WARNING: The following story, suggested by a precious lascivious lurker, contains the spankings of an older teenager, a touch of infantilism, a hint of non-golf lesbianism and a silly, allusion-filled plot. Thanks BAR.

* * *

They sometimes reminded her of the opening scene from that Scottish play her 12th grade class at Harper Valley had just studied, but Marcie really couldn't say no.

Her mother had allowed the awkward 17-year-old girl to go to the beach for the weekend on condition she help out with the PTA rummage sale on Friday night, and that meant doing menial chores for Tilly Masterson, Biddy Dombrow and Stella Topping -- the president, vice president and recording secretary of the PTA.

Marcie had been looking forward to trying out her new bikini and finally making some effort at socializing during the senior beach weekend. She was only fair of looks, fair of grades and fair of personality -- much like the good stolid citizens of any small town. Bony and thin-hipped at 5-foot-7, she had long stringy black hair, wore no makeup and had a vaguely cocky, vaguely enticing pair of thin lips that never quite betrayed whether she was smiling or making a comment. Her aquiline nose dominated her face just a little too much for her to make the cover of even the Cropp County beauty magazine. Though she would later bloom into a striking, angular woman that men would stare at, Marcie would look now a little like George Washington, without the powdered wig.

Her teen years had not been easy for Marcie, as her divorced mother had begun acting more juvenile than her only daughter -- cruising bars, picking up men, occasionally dropping by the trailer park and working no harder than she had to as an assistant safety inspector at the nuclear power plant. Marcie's mom did everything possible to keep her budding progeny from succeeding, seemingly in competition with her for the few available young men in town and slyly and overtly putting the girl down.

That wouldn't be so bad, but Winona Gilooley regularly disciplined Marcie, who knew no better but than to accept the all-too-frequent bare-back, bare-bottom strappings. If she did not comply with her mother's command to "strip down to your bony bare ass and bend over the table," Marcie knew that one of the many tattooed musclemen her mom dates would be right over to help out.

Friday night and the rummage sale was almost over. Marcie was dreaming of the beach but fretting about how to pay for the necessary frills -- T-shirts, Snowcones(r) and amusement park rides on her meager allowance. So, she did it.

As the last dowager stumbled down the steps from the gym, Marcie's unpleasant evening was about to get a lot worse.

"Marceeeeee!" cackled Mrs. Masterson, "just you wait one minute before you skedaddle!"

"Yes'm," the girl replied. Could that old witch know?

"There seems to be a 20-dollar bill missing here, honey? What do you know about it?

Marcie stood mute and shrugged her shoulders.

"And I know which bill that is," declared Biddie Dombrow triumphantly. "I noticed it right away -- the first currency in Cropp County with Robert D. Rubin's signature on it!"

"Harrumph," harrumphed Stella Topping. "Maybe we should have a look in young Marcie's pockets.

Marcie froze, and her bedsheet gray pallor told the truth for her. "That won't be necessary," she mumbled, and took the wrinkled, crinkled portrait of Andrew Jackson from her left front jeans pocket.

"Oh, my!" crowed Mrs. Masterson. "What haaaave we here?"

"Bad girl," tsk tsked Mrs. Dombrow.

Mrs. Topping, the youngest of the three, and the most sympathetic, just shook her head sadly.

"I guess you won't be going to the beach, Missy," admonished Mrs. Masterson. "When I tell your mom, if she's home tonight, I bet I know what's going to happen to her young thief."

The sound of that last word made Marcie cringe. She was not a thief. She had the best character in a valley populated by DNA- deficient descendants of the Snopeses, Kallikaks and Jukeses.

"Pleeeeeze," Marcie whimpered. "Pleeeze don't tell ma. I've been looking forward to the beach for so long." Her face was twisted into remorse and supplication. The three hens waddled into a circle and had a brief discussion. When they emerged, Mrs. Topping, the flame-haired mascara factory who had always taken a shine to young Marcie, sashayed forward and gently put her hands on the girl's slumped shoulders.

"I think we can arrange something, honey," the recording secretary told her. "You may go the beach and your mama doesn't have to know," she said. Marcie exhaled relief, but stiffened again when Mrs. Topping winked and continued, "But you won't want to look forward to your return."

When the recording secretary sat down at the card table to write out precise instructions, Marcie scribbled her name to it in a wavering scrawl and rushed out of the gym sobbing.

* * *

Monday night could came far too soon for poor Marcie, who had done her best to have fun at the beach, but returned only with a fluttering stomach and a sunburn.

She tiptoed up to the Victorian bungalow and rapped three times as instructed. Mrs. Masterson, holding a small shopping bag in her hand, opened the door. "I am happy that you are keeping your part of the bargain, sweetie," she chirped. "I know you don't fancy another beating from mama."

Marcie hung her head and followed the woman's crooking finger toward the wide-bottomed wicker chair placed parallel to the tulip-print davenport. Mrs. Masterson sat down as daintily as she could manage and made a West End production of smoothing, then sliding the billowy housedress halfway up her mottled thighs.

"You know what to do, honeybuns," she commanded, and Marcie turned around, lifted her A-line dress above her hips and paused, hoping for a call from the governor's office. "Turn around, young lady."

Marcie turned slowly, holding the Navy blue dress high and blushing crimson. "Here," the woman directed, handing Marcie the bag. "You must, of course, put these on."

Tears tumbled from the girls brown eyes as a wave of nausea engulfed her as she examined the oversized plastic baby pants. All she could think of was the sound of the oval wooden pearl- handled hairbrush the woman was tapping against her left palm.

The girl turned away from Mrs. Masterson and glimpsed a portrait of great-grandfather Bat above the mantel. Letting her dress fall back into its proper place, Marcie reached up and quickly let her K-Mart Collection panties drop to her ankles. She slowly but dutifully stepped into the rubber pants, feeling the cold impersonal plastic cut into her waist.

"You might wish to yell a little bit, pretty one," Mrs. Masterson said solicitously, balling up the girls panties and carefully stuffing them in her mouth.

No more time to protest; no more time to delay. The woman had pulled Marcie across her bare thighs, relaunched her dress upward and let the girl's hands and face rest against the davenport cushions. The hairbrush against plastic made a sickening thwuck. It didn't quite set Marcie's bottom on fire, but the velocity of Mrs. Masterson's whipping rippled deep into the girl's gluteal muscles. The shame, of course, and not the pain, had Marcie in tears instantly.

It wasn't until Mrs. Masterson pressed down hard on the small of Marcie's sunburned back that the girl began shrieking. "Oh, you big baby, you," the old woman teased. "This will teach you to steal!" And down came the back of the plastic pants to reveal the flat pale cutlets of Marcie's bottom. Pulling the culottes of correction outward and down with her right hand, the woman began spanking sharply inside the pants with her left hand. It was, really, a baby spanking, and Marcie cried like one. It was better than a mama whippin', at least.

When the battleaxe decided the girl had been sufficiently punished, she helped Marcie out of the pants, took the humiliating habiliment to her writing table and signed her name large with a laundry pen on the left side.

* * *

Tuesday night, when mama would be glued to Rescue 911 tighter than the toupee was attached to William Shatner, Marcie solemnly trudged down the block to Mrs. Dombrow's ranch house.

It couldn't be worse than the night before, and it wasn't. Biddy Dombrow, alone, had been a mother, and knew that discipline needed to be conducted with some dignity.

"It's all right, baby," she clucked as Marcie started opening the paper bag. "We can dispense with that. I KNOW how to administer a spanking. Now come over here and let's get it over with."

This small favor didn't do much to brighten Marcie's spirits, but she was grateful and trudged to Mrs. Dombrow's kitchen, passing the piano top with pictures of the woman's three grown sons -- a tire salesman, a truck driver and a professional wrestler -- all of whom no doubt had worn smooth the paddle she held firmly in her right hand.

"Stand right in front of me and tell me you are sorry, dear," Mrs. Dombrow cooed.

"Sorry, ma'am. Truly I am sorry," Marcie replied.

"Turn over Biddie's knee, darling. You shall get a good paddling, for you have shamed yourself and disappointed me." Marcie did as bidden, her hands flat on the yellow waxy buildup of the linoleum floor; her toes just stretching on the other side; her denim-clad bottom high above the woman's right knee.

WHACK! owwwwweeeeee! WHACK! scccreeeeeeccchhh SMACK! yowwwwwwwl!!

The jeans amplified the volume of the paddle licks but did little to absorb the inferno of flat-against-flat flint fire. Mrs. Dombrow knew what she was doing all right, administering 25 licks, some quickly, some delaid. She had the girl wailing and crying from the get-go. Marcie's poor bottom hurt so badly she did not even realize the paddling had subsided. But she realized quickly, as she lay, her chest heaving in anguish, across the woman's lap, that her jeans were being lowered, and her cotton panties, too!

"Just a quick finisher-upper to let you know that stealing is a very juvenile thing to do, Marcie."

The ceiling fan brushed cool thrusts of air across her flaming bare backside but only for a moment. SLAP SMACK SLAP SPANK WHAP WHACK SMACK SPLAT SMACK SPANK -- and the middle act of this round robin tragedy was at an end. When Marcie finally gained control of her knees and stood up, Mrs. Dombrow kissed the girl gently on each side of her face, patting her bottom softly a little too long, and bent over the table to attach her signature to the right side of the plastic pants.

* * *

To question Marcie's state of mind on Wednesday night would be to ask Mrs. Lincoln how she liked the play.

But true to her word, she arrived promptly at Stella Topping's Winnebago-on-blocks. With a bourbon and water in her hand, the youngest of the Three Amigas breezily flung the metallic door wide open and grinned her painted lips into a surprisingly warm welcome for the girl.

It didn't take Marcie long to determine why this night was different from all other nights. Mrs. Topping was dressed in the sheer black lace of a nightie that came all the way down to the freckle at the top of her left thigh. Her bosom ballooned upward and outward; her oft-climbed mound of desire traced its topography each time she sashayed across the synthetic carpet.

"Now, babycakes, let's have us a look at your new wardrobe."

Marcie hesitated, awash with conflicting desires -- to run or to stay with the woman she had let herself think about one too many times on hot summer nights alone in her loft. "Look, sweetiepants, let's not have any secrets. You know why you're here. Let's not pretend. Part of the deal, toots, is that you have to model a little bit for me and then take your punishment. Get nekkid!"

It was then that poor pitiful put-upon Marcie noticed the short black handle of what looked like a twelve-tongued whip on the woman's water bed. "Here, let me help," Mrs. Topping offered.

She began unbuttoning Marcie's white blouse, and the girl stood relaxed for the first time this week. As the 32-B bra unhooked itself in the woman's fingers, the girl's brown nipples stood at royal attention.

Finally, finally, she was proud of herself. Without further bidding, Marcie undid the golden safety pin holding her kilt together and unwrapped the plaid from her hips. She haughtily thrust her hips forward, then, one leg at a time, Clydesdale- stepped out of her panties. She bent over to reach the paper bag on the floor and, displaying the bold signatures of her previous corrections officers for Mrs. Topping, pulled the plastic baby pants up high, tight against her crotch.

She stepped backwards toward the bedroom door and pirouetted, her wry visage finally crinkling into a smile.

"How do you like it, Ma'am," the girl said, almost defiantly. "Here I am. Punish me as you wish."

Mrs. Topping's grin showed plaque and tobacco stains, but the girl would do anything for her now. And as she was told, Marcie removed the baby pants, handed them for a final signature across both sides at the bottom, knelt at the metal frame edge of the water bed and laid her angular cheeks on the vinyl surf. Standing at the opposite side of the rolling cradle, the woman tauntingly lifted her nightgown above her pendulous breasts and then over her arms, standing naked like a beacon for the storm-tossed sea of pubescent confusion across from her.

She lewdly placed her left hand upon the close-cropped beard atop the hypotenuse of her personality and manipulated the knob atop and the envelope below. She picked up the martinet and strode purposefully around the water bed. Marcie had not made a sound of protest, just a few unintelligible sucking sounds, tasting a first aperitif of passion.

The moment the whipping began, Marcie relaxed. Her three days of hell were coming to an end at the hands of a woman she had always wondered why she admired. Now she knew.

sssssssWHHHIPPP ssssssWWWWWWICKKKK ttthhhhRASSSHHH WWWWWHIPPPP. Marcie's flat bottom rose to meet each kiss of the hard leather cords, then thrusting down hard against the bed frame. The bouncing action swelled her into orgasm long before the whipping ended. As occasional thongs of leather slapped tender, previously unseen, tissue between Marcie's nether cheeks, she screamed. But it was in pleasure, in discovery of something hotter than a magazine rack full of Brad Pitt.

There was no more shame, no more humiliation. Each new whipcrack pained her now no more than a paper cut.

-The End-

Looking for BDSM partners? Find someone on the
largest (3 million members) BDSM personals
network. FREE signup! Post a FREE ad w/5 photos,
flirt in chatrooms, view explicit live Webcams,
meet for REAL scenes! Make real-time hookups now!

 

Washout

Looking for real BDSM scenes? Find someone now!

by Verywierd

Chapter One.

Joanne was dead. Unless she could find a solution to her latest problem, her life insurance was about to become a good investment. At 5ft 8inches, with the looks of a top model, long glossy brown hair and a body that was a teenager's wet dream, Joanne did not look like she had a probable life span of mere days. Unfortunately, her recent addiction to gambling and a really prolonged loosing streak had put her in massive debt to a loan shark who had a reputation for making permanent "examples" of defaulters. Unless she came up with $15,000 in two days time she was doomed. Ironically, she had enough money coming to her from advances on a book and video deal that she had signed to be able to cover her debts easily, but the money was due only in three weeks time.

Standing, outside her publisher's office, she knew that her last chance of reaching old age lay behind the polished teak door that bore a brass plaque that read "Nicole Foster". Joanne knew that Nicole, her publisher, disliked her intensely. Oddly enough, Nicole's hostility was what gave her hope. She knocked and went in.

"Nicole, I need my money now ... today!" she said, sticking out her hand as if expecting the woman to drop a bundle of cash in her palm.

"No can do, Joanne," replied Nicole, frowning. They had just signed the contract last night and there had been no ambiguity as to when any payments were due. "You will get your money when the package hits the stores ...."

"I know what our agreement says." interrupted Joanne. "I want you to give me a special advance. Call it a loan if you want."

Nicole rubbed her brow in puzzlement. Theirs was a purely business relationship, and the last thing that she expected was for Joanne to ask, demand even, a favour. "What...?" she began.

Joanne held up her hand, cutting Nicole off once again. Looking her straight in the eye, she said, "I want to make you an offer, Nicole. A once in a lifetime chance."

"I'm listening" replied Nicole, ever the businesswoman.

"I know that you dislike me..."

"True."

"In fact, someone told me that you once described me as a filthy cunt!"

"No comment," said Nicole cautiously.

"I also know that you are a lesbian," continued Joanne.

"That is not much of a secret! If you think that you can blackmail ...." began Nicole angrily.

Joanne shook her head. "I am not trying to blackmail you, Nicole. I only brought that up because I think that my offer will interest you because of your... tastes."

"I already have a girlfriend, and I don't need more sex on the side."

Joanne took a deep breath, sighed, then took the plunge. She had to make this sale if she wanted to continue breathing.

"Nicole, how would you like the chance to hurt me?"

"Huh?" exclaimed Nicole, confused by the turn in the conversation.

"I mean hurt me physically. T...torture me." Joanne's tongue tripped over that word. "You called me a filthy cunt. I am offering you the opportunity to hurt my ... vagina." She went on, grimacing at her sudden attack of prudishness.

"Just your vagina? Are you being specific or are you talking about your genitals in general?" asked Nicole sardonically, arching her eyebrow. She did not understand what Joanne was up to, but she found it amusing enough to play along for the time being.

Joanne tossed her head in irritation. "Not just my vagina! The whole thing! My inner and outer labia, my clitoris, my vagina and my urethra. There! Is that graphic enough for you?"

"Again, why just your genitals? Why not your breasts, your buttocks or anywhere else?"

"That should be obvious, Nicole. I cannot risk having bruises or scars on parts of my body that would prevent me from modeling or performing. Turning up with a damaged body would void my contract. However, I am not scheduled to do any crotch shots as part of the current deal, so as long as you limit yourself to the area covered by a g-string, there is no problem."

"You are serious!" said Nicole in amazement. The idea of torturing Joanne's pussy was extremely appealing, and the money was not a problem as she knew that Joanne's book and video package would be a hit. However, she decided to toy with her a bit more.

"You are the one trying to sell the deal, Joanne. Make me a specific offer. Tell me exactly what you propose!" demanded Nicole, grinning.

Joanne had been prepared for this. She knew that her offer had to be sufficiently evil to perk Nicole's interest and yet not so severe as to require immediate emergency medical treatment. She thought that she had found just the thing.

"Since you find my ... cunt ... so dirty, I thought that you would appreciate the opportunity to use ..this!" she said, pulling an object from her handbag.

At first, Nicole could not make out the identity of the white, fuzzy object that Joanne was presenting to her, as it had become a little twisted in the bag. Then, she realized what Joanne was offering and her laughter filled the room as she twirled the large wire-handled bottle washer with her fingers.

***

Chapter Two


The two women were alone in the office. Nicole had sent her secretary out on an errand and had locked the doors.

"Tell me again. I just love hearing you talk!" teased Nicole.

Joanne gritted her teeth, holding back the anger that could get her killed. "Alright. Here is the deal. I will take off my skirt and panties and for one hour I will keep my legs spread wide apart and let you use the bottle washer in any way you wish, on or in my pussy. If you tell me to, I will help you by spreading apart the lips of my sex, or expose any part of it in particular that you want to play with. OK?"

"Deal!" cried Nicole. "Your time starts ... Now!" she announced, pointing at her wall clock.

Joanne unhooked her skirt without being told, pulling it down around her ankles along with her panties. Her experience as a model made the chore of baring her lower body in front of an audience much easier. Neatly folding her clothes out of habit, she set them aside before moving to stand squarely in front of Nichole, who was seated expectantly on a chair in the middle of the room.

"Shall I keep my heels on?" she asked.

"Yes. I want to admire those fine legs."

Joanne placed her legs about two feet apart, presenting her cleanly shaved pubis for Nichole's inspection. "Is this position what you want?" she asked. In her mind, she had decided to treat Nichole as just another demanding photographer who was able to afford her high fees for doing "adult" poses.

"A little wider."

"OK" she responded, shuffling her feet another foot apart.

"Show me some pink, Joanne"

The model obediently reached down with her right hand and spread her plump outer lips apart with her index and middle finger, exposing the "pink" of her inner labia, matched nicely by the perfect red of her nail polish.

"Both hands."

Without needing to think, Joanne brought her left hand down between her legs as well and used only the index finger of each hand to spread open her sex. She automatically swiveled her hips forward to give the best view of her inner sex to Nichole. Joanne had always been somewhat exhibitionistic and the rude pose excited her, causing her red, crinkled labia to unfurl and stand out boldly. This ability had served her well as her pussy photographed well, making her popular with the mens' magazines.

"Good. Hold that pose," instructed Nichole, bringing the bristles of the bottle washer up to touch the down hanging labia. She pushed the brush forward between Joanne's legs, until the bare wire handle just touched her sex lips. Slowly, she drew the brush back towards herself, running the white nylon bristles over Joanne's sex flesh.

Although the harsh touch of the brush was a sharp irritation on her sensitive labia, Joanne had no trouble holding her pose.

"No, that isn't what I want. Pull back on the top a bit more. I want a good shot at your clit."

Joanne's fingers moved as directed, drawing the protective hood of flesh up and away from the shiny pink jewel of her clitoris. Despite this, the tiny bud was not very prominent. Doing her best to please Nichole she asked, "Would you like me to bring it up a bit?"

Nichole nodded, licking her lips with the tip of her tongue. It had been a long time since she had had any direct contact with the models like this and it was turning her on knowing that this was all for her benefit and not just work.

Nodding, the model began to gently rub the tip of one finger around her clit, concentrating on the feeling that her own touch gave her. The pink bud of her clit began to stiffen and rise under her knowledgeable finger. Soon, she had brought herself to a firm erection. She stopped rubbing, knowing that further stimulation would cause her clit to retract instead of grow. "Ready," she announced.

Nichole now brought the bristles around to the front of Joanne's sex. With gradually increasing speed, she began stroking the brush up and down across the tip of the model's helplessly exposed clitoris.

The intense sensation quickly became painful, as the bristles rasped over her clit, first one way then the other. For a moment her will power failed her as her hips involuntarily moved back, away from the stinging bite of the brush.

"Hold your pose!" demanded Nichole sharply.

"Sorry," replied Joanne, quickly resuming her pose and bringing her clit back into contact with the brush.

In retaliation for Joanne's failure, Nichole pressed the brush more firmly against the model's flesh, drawing it up and down several times in quick succession. The model gasped in pain, the muscles of her beautiful thighs quivering with the effort to keep her legs wide apart in spite of the rough treatment of her clitoris and labia.

For another ten minutes, Nichole scrubbed the model's widespread sex , until the skin had become raw and badly abraded. Despite the pain, Joanne had shown the intense discipline and willpower that had made her a top "adult" model and had continued to beautifully expose her sex to the other woman's merciless attention.

Finally, Nichole stopped. With mocking consideration, she said, "You look a bit untidy. Here! Why don't you clean yourself up a bit with these."

She handed Joanne a tub of wet tissues, which were soaked in cologne. Gratefully , the model dabbed at her brow and upper lip, which had become shiny from the strain of "posing".

"There too." said Nichole casually, nodding at Joanne's pussy, knowing that the alcohol would burn the sore and skin badly.

Joanne closed her eyes for a moment, gathering her courage to perform the painful act that Nichole had demanded. Knowing that this was what the woman wanted to see, she took a fresh, wet tissue from the box, then resumed her widespread pose in front of Nichole. Once again she spread her lips wide apart, taking care to expose her clitoris as well. With a deliberate motion, she pressed the tissue against her swollen sex.

For a second, she only felt a cool tingling as the alcohol kissed her flesh. Then, it was as if her sex had caught fire! Her knees wobbled from the pain as her thighs automatically squeezed shut on her hand in reflexive, if futile, protection of her vulnerable sex. As the fire continued to burn her labia and clit, Joanne sank to her knees, gasping.

"That's enough relaxation, Joanne. Back to work!"

Nichole dragged two heavy coffee tables into the middle of the room, setting them two feet apart. "Lets try this now" she announced.

Joanne knew without being told the pose required of her. Climbing up on the tables, she placed one foot on each, straddling the gap between them. Once in place, she squatted down, her knees wide apart, giving Nichole, who had seated herself on the floor, a perfect view of her vaginal opening.

"I will be kind and give you three minutes to get ready," said Nichole, waving the bottle washer mockingly.

"Thank you," replied Joanne gratefully. Her thanks were real, as Nichole had given her the chance to prepare her vagina for the terrible intrusion that was about to be inflicted on it. Without wasting a second, Joanne began frantically masturbating, trying to stimulate the flow of her natural lubricants and to widen the opening of her hole. As soon as she could manage, she slid two, then three and finally four fingers into her vagina, twisting her digits to stretch the red, glistening opening as much as she could. No thought of shame crossed her mind as she worked her hand in and out of her cunt in front of the laughing woman.

"Are we ready?" asked Nichole with mock impatience.

Joanne nodded, as she drew her fingers out of the mouth of her vagina. Out of habit, she spread the shiny sex juices over her inner thighs where the shiny streaks would show up clearly under the studio lights. "Shall I spread from the back?" she asked. In her squatting pose, the photographers usually preferred that she spread open her sex by reaching around the outside and under her thighs, so that her arms and hands would not hide her breasts or her pussy.

"Yes, that would be nice," said Nichole, admiring the wide open view of the model's genitals that her pose presented.

"Ready?" she asked after a moment.

"Go ahead," replied Joanne, her fingers digging into her flesh in anticipation of what was to come.

Nichole presented the tip of the brush to the gaping mouth of Joanne's vagina. Twisting her wrist, she began to wriggle the white nylon into the waiting sheath. Although there was some pain, the fact that the bristles were forced downwards along the shaft of the brush like the branches of a pine tree loaded with snow allowed the brush to slide up into her vagina without too much friction. Joanne could feel the brush make its way up into the depths of her body, consummating this most unusual of sex acts.

Unfortunately for Joanne, the brush did not only have bristles that stuck out perpendicular to the shaft, but a bunch that were set pointing straight up at the tip. When the brush finally reached the end of her passage, these bristles hit her cervix like a bunch of plastic needles. For the first time, she let out a moan of pain as Nichole repeatedly jabbed the brush against the opening of her womb.

"I don't like your expression. Lets have a smile. You just love having this wonderful thing in your cunt! Some enthusiasm please!" taunted Nichole in time to the movements of her wrist. "You asked me to use this on you, after all!"

Joanne nodded, bowing her head to hide her sobs of pain. Mustering all her skill, experience and willpower, she plastered a wide, toothy smile on her face as she looked up at Nichole.

"That's better!" said Nichole, jabbing at the model's cervix again "Now tell me how good it feels!"

"Oh, that feels sooo good! I just love it when you jab the bottom of my vagina like that!" she declared in a low, sexy voice, spoiled only by the catch of her breath as the bristles bit into her with each thrust of Nichole's wrist.

Nichole began to vary her movements, turning the brush around its axis. Strangely enough, this actually felt quite good to Joanne, as compared to anything else that she had been subjected to so far. Seeing Joanne's relief, she decided to go onto the final stage of the game.

"Well! I think that we should do this properly, don't you Joanne?" she asked brightly. She looked into the eyes of the suffering model and waited.

Joanne knew what Nichole wanted to hear. The ultimate bit of suffering that she had so willingly asked for.

"Nichole, I want my cunt to be nice and clean so that I can show it off to everyone. Please help me," she asked, as if borrowing a cup of sugar.

"Of course dear! What can I do to help?"

"Would you please scrub my filthy cunt out for me?" she said, "Here! Let me open it up nicely for you to work on!"

With a smile that looked a bit more like a snarl, Nichole pulled down on the handle of the brush. Since the bristles were all pointing towards the opening of her vagina, every plastic point stuck into the walls of her vaginal passage, scraping along the sensitive tube like a fistful of needles. No amount of self control could prevent Joanne from screaming as the brush ripped at the insides of her cunt. The agony caused her inner muscles to clamp down reflexively, which only served to narrow her passage and increase her pain. The cunt was sufficiently lubricated to allow the brush to be drawn out without much damage. A silvery flow of Joanne's cunt juices flowed out of her sex to drip on the carpet as the first bristles popped out of her hole.

Nichole reversed the stroke, plunging the brush in to jab at Joanne's cervix once more. This time, when the brush was drawn out, it abraded the delicate inner walls much more, as the lubricating juices had been scraped away with the first stroke.

Joanne was panting in agony now, although she had still not moved from her obscene pose.

A third stroke, then a fourth. The tips of the bristles now were pink with the tiny drops of blood coming from the badly scratched vaginal walls. Drops of blood stained the carpet below her loins. Twice more, Nichole scrubbed the inside of the suffering model's sex. Then, she pushed the reddened brush in one last time and released the handle.

"I have been doing all the work here, Joanne. Why don't you do the last one?"

Looking down between her widespread thighs, Joanne gripped the handle of the brush firmly in her hand. Bracing herself, she tensed in preparation for the terrible pain that she was about to inflict on herself. Before she could do it, Nichole inflicted one last demand on her.

"This is the money shot Joanne, so remember to smile and to thank me nicely for helping you!"

Joanne drew herself up proudly, tossing her hair back. She brought up that fabulous smile one last time. "Thank you, Nichole" she purred as she tore the brush out of her bleeding cunt.

"And that's a wrap!" cried Nichole as the clock announced the end of the session. Humming happily, she sat down at her desk to write out Joanne's cheque.

-The End-

Looking for BDSM partners? Meet someone now on the largest BDSM personals site – photos, chat, more!

My Punishment

Meet real BDSM partners now!

It was midnight when my Master came home. He was late, like he was every Friday night. I didn't like it, but I was never allowed say anything about it. I had just about fallen asleep, when he entered the room. I could tell by the way he stomped into the room that he was in a bad mood. "Strip, bitch," he snipped. I was tired and didn't really feel like having sex. I pretended not to hear him, and pulled the covers over my head. He tore the covers of and grabbed me by my hair. "Don't play games with me, you little slut," he yelled. I boldly stared him in the eyes, something I was not allowed to do, and clawed at his arms. The look on his face told me I shouldn't have done that. He struck me across the face, with the back of his hand.

"Dammit, I want to go to sleep, "I shouted, after slapping him back. "That's it, now you're going to get it," he threatened. I wasn't sure what he meant until he threw me over his shoulder and carried me to "the room". This room was filled with whips, straps, riding crops, chains, hooks, nipple clamp, and other various torture toys. He positioned me on the bed, and chained my arms to the head- board. He took the nipple clamps and fastened them to my tits. A shot of pain ran through my body. "Spread your legs," he ordered. Not wanting him even angrier at me I complied. He then chained my ankles to the footboard. Then he took a huge, thick dildo and cruelly shoved it into my tight, semi-moist pussy. "I'm going to leave you here like this, until you beg me to forgive you. Stubbornly I lay there silent, he then took out the whip. He began lashing the insides of my thighs. I could feel the welts forming. he moved up to my stomach, then my tits. He gave each about fifteen lashes. I still said nothing and he left the room.

I was alone for most of the night. I hated every minute of it. I was cold, uncomfortable, the cuffs were too tight, and I definitely couldn't sleep in this position. I finally decided the smart thing to do was beg. "Master, I'm sorry," I shouted. "You'll have to do better than that," he replied with a laugh. "Please Master, I'm begging you to forgive me." He came into the room, and unchained me from the bed. I got up to leave the room. He wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me back onto the bed. "You didn't think that was it did you," he asked. "Of course not," I lied, even though I wished he was. He tugged on the connector chain of my nipple clamps. He knew I was lying. "Get on your knees," he ordered. I obediently dropped to the floor at his feet. He still pulled on the chain. "Master I'm sorry," I begged. He took off the clamps, my nipples were sore and throbbing. He stood before me and ordered me to pull his boxers down. After fulfilling his wish, he then said, "Suck it off whore." I hesitated for a moment, which was met with a hard tug on my hair. I opened my mouth as he guided his rigid dick in. I tried to take in all nine inches of it, but I gagged. Each time I did he would buck his hips, causing his cock to ram the back of my throat. Finally I felt his dick pulsate and he sprayed his hot cum into my mouth. I swallowed every last drop of it, the taste was rather arousing. I noticed I wasn't tired anymore, and was actually enjoying my punishment.

He lifted me to the bed, and positioned me on my hands and knees. "Remember how I once told you I would fuck your virgin ass if you disobeyed me," he asked. "Yes, Master." "Well that's what I'm going to do," he teased, "and I'm not going to use any lubrication either." I knew immediately this was going to hurt like hell. I lay still, trying to relax. He pressed his hard member against my unravished ass. With a powerful lunge he thrust into my asshole. All I could do was moan and whimper. he pushed in and out, each one harder and faster than the one before. He shot another load of cum in my body, then lay down. He thought for awhile about what he wanted to do next. Finally, he said, "Go into the bathroom, fill the basin with warm water, get a washcloth, and wash my dick off." I headed for the door, my violated ass in pain. "Yes, Master," I replied.

I returned from the bathroom to finish my task. "That water better be the right temperature, or you'll lick it clean." I squeezed a drop onto his stomach. "Is that good enough, Master?" "Yeah, that's fine." I washed the whole length of his shaft, and around his balls. His flaccid cock, became hard again in a short amount of time. "Dammit why does he have to be so horny all the time," I thought.

He placed me on my back, drawing my legs over his shoulders. He pressed a warm kiss on my lips, and I knew he'd forgiven me. I felt him rub the head of his dick against my clit. I quickly became wet with pleasure. He pushed in until his ball rested on my ass. His pace grew faster, as my pussy clamped around his cock. I was ready to cum. My uncontrolled erotic moans filled the room. My juices flowed freely onto his dick, and down my legs.

He lay down beside me, my bruised tits against his smooth chest. He gently ran his fingers over the welts on my thighs. "Why'd you make me hurt you like that," he asked. I shrugged my shoulders. "Rough day my sweet slave?" "Yes, Master." "Well you better get some sleep then, tomorrow will be even rougher." I kissed his lips. "Yes, Master," I said, as I closed my eyes and fell asleep.

-The End-

Looking for BDSM partners? Find someone on the largest (3 million members) BDSM personals network. FREE signup! Post a FREE ad w/5 photos, flirt in chatrooms, view explicit live Webcams, meet for REAL scenes! Make real-time hookups now!