From Friend to Master

Neither of them meant for their friendship to evolve into one of a Master and her slave―but it did.

Their friendship began innocently in financial necessity as roommates. He thought she was hot and she thought him an ideal mate. But, although they had many opportunities to hook up sexually, it never came to fruition. Sometimes it was because one or the other was involved with someone else, sometimes it was for private reasons that neither can express to this day, but sometimes it was strictly because one or the other was too drunk and their sense of fair play prohibited them for taking advantage of a someone at their mercy.

It turns out it was their sense of fair play that led them directly into a lopsided love involving bondage, discipline, and ultimately collaring.

Her name, or what she became to be called, was simply "Master D." She was a petite lady with a mousy sense of fashion, her ash blonde her was never longer than shoulder length, she wore nerdy glasses and clothes that hid her stunning hour-glass figure and lovely, shapely legs.

His name, or what his Master named him, was her "dirty hooker". He was a bull of a man, an alpha male in every setting. Over the years gray had crept into his hair, making him more distinguished with a dignified aura. His shoulders were broad enough so that even now, with his waist gone soft with a bit of fat, his body still had the physique of a wrestler or linebacker.

Her mousy looks belied a rough and ready sense of humor and a level of street smarts, savvy, and a fighter's spirit. In private, at times she was crude and would belch loudly. When she was drunk she would bellow order's, bossing people around, teasing them with a cutting sense of humor, luring them to disclose their fantasies and then mocking them. But in the end, at her core, she was a lady and always returned to her meek ways.

His bull-like body and distinguished looks belied a certain emotional naiveté. He was a good listener, empathetic, often sympathetic, always willing to lend one of his broad shoulders to cry on. But he could be easily conned emotionally, and more than once he fell for her emotional pranks. Perhaps to compensate, he adopted a rough, dismissive mannerism when dealing with people―he often ran roughshod over them.

They both loved their dogs.

Though they were roommates for years and often saw into these hidden sides of their characters, they always returned to their moorings in their core personalities: she a dainty lady and he a macho man.

Over time they moved apart. She fell in love with another man and gave herself to him as a sub might to her Dom. He found himself entangled in an awkward divorce.

So it was with some surprise that they found themselves on a road trip one late night in July, bound for Las Vegas.

She had caught him cheating on her, a devastating blow to her frail ego, already twice shattered by faithless men, an ex-husband and a former fiancé.

His divorce had finally wound down and dissolved, leaving his vulnerable and unsure of himself.

The first night they picked a random hotel, got drunk in the hotel's bar, and found themselves making out while sipping champagne on a nearby beach. When a squad car announced, rather anonymously with the loudspeaker, that the beach was closed, they went went back to the hotel and had hot, vanilla sex.

They unleashed their passions that they had kept bottled up for years and, in the beginning their lovemaking followed true to this form. They were both experienced and ran through the standard missionary fare into mutual oral gratification, hard doggy-style pounding and some more athletic positions.

She was petit enough to qualify as a spinner, and he hoisted her off the ground and she straddled him, airborne in his embrace, while he drove himself deep until they both shuddered in climax.

The next day the drive to Vegas was long but pleasant.

As he was driving he was reflecting silently on their passionate lovemaking the night before. Unaware a smile crept upon his face.

"Don't think you're all that." She chided.

"What?" he said innocently.

"Don't give me that. I know what you're thinking and you weren't that good."

"That's not what you were screaming."

"Oh you wish."

"I had you screaming "Stop!" after the second time. If I had gone for a fourth time you'd be bowlegged right now."

"Uh huh, keep talking, you'll get yours."

She didn't realize it, but inside of her a hard kernel of hate was hardening at his cocky attitude some nameless desire began to take hold. A desire to punish him for his insouciance, a desire to hurt him, to make him feel the hurt and torment she was feeling.

He didn't realize it either, but inside of his his hard kernel of macho and confidence was becoming brittle and he began to feel emotionally lost. He began to form a desire to find a new rock of emotional stability, a new way to bond to another person that would not leave him the emotional wreckage as did his divorce.

Tentatively he said "Well, you did leave me a little sore too."

"Yeah right." she snapped.

"No really, a guy's dick gets sensitive too."

No response.

"Especially the head."

She turned to look out the window.

"Especially after the third time." he laughed.

She tucked this bit of information away into a dark corner of her mind, stewing over his arrogance.

That night, after they had checked into their hotel in Vegas, they went over a list of things they wanted to do. But feeling a bit hungover and sore from the previous night, they opted to take a walk out on the Strip. After hitting a few clubs and a few cab rides they loosed up and found themselves in a club with a decidedly kinky edge to it.

She was drunk out of her mind and out of control when she decided to grab a whip from a passing waitresses costume. He was across the room and was walking over to intercede, to keep her out of trouble when he saw that she was now talking to the waitress. As he arrived she said

"Let's go."

"Where?"

"You'll see."

A cab dropped them off at a strip mall with a fetish shop.

"Come on." She grabbed his hand and led him into the store.

He picked up a leather cat suit and looked at her as if sizing her up for a fit.

She smiled and strolled over to a shelf and picked up a whip, raising her eyebrows suggestively.

He shook his head, sauntered over to a clothing rack picked up a lace up corset and a pair of thigh-high boots―"Not unless you're wearing this." he teased.

"Dream on." she said as she set down the whip and walked away, but she had an odd expression on her face as though she was considering it.

He became engrossed in with the toys and didn't notice she was no longer beside him. As he looked about he saw her at the counter, the woman cashier was stuffing something into a bag― were those handcuffs?

He approached, asked her what she bought.

"Mind your own business." was her only reply as she stuck her nose into the air.

The cab ride back to the hotel was filled with tense energy and excitement as he prodded her continually, asking what was in the bag.

She pulled it away from him saying "Not until you beg."

"Never." he said sharply.

"We'll see about that." she smirked.

"You talk a big game." He replied, teasing her, "But when it comes down to it you were screaming for me to stop."

"Yup. Keep talking." she said "we'll see."

"See what?" he teased, "Me begging? You'll beg for me to stop before I'll ever beg you anything."

She froze, silent.

He feared he had gone too far, ruined the mood.

"In fact," he continued, "I'll bet you you'll beg first."

Almost before he could finish she had her hand out to shake and looked him right in the eye.

"You're so on."

They shook, the first step in changing their friendship into something different, a silent challenge, the first moment of struggle between them where she would conquer and he become her vassal.

"What're we betting?" he asked, almost to himself.

She thought a moment, said "If I win and you beg, then you have to do whatever I say all weekend." She pause, "No matter what." she added decisively.

"Same for if I win and you beg." he said, somewhat in shock.

"No matter what." she repeated.

He nodded.

"You swear?" she pressed.

"Yes, I swear." he puffed.

"You swear what?"

"I swear that if you win, and I beg, then I'll do whatever you want all weekend."

She guffawed and punched his shoulder "you're gonna be my slave." she laughed.

"We'll see." he said.

"Yup." she said and then turned, looked out the window, and ignored him.

When the arrived at the hotel he was shocked at the passionate force she hurled at him, she threw the bag aside and kissed him, the wettest kiss he had ever tasted, like she was drooling at him.

He felt himself swell and harden and moved to unbuckle his pants.

"Not so fast." she said.

"That's not enough to make me beg." he replied.

"No, first we shower."

After protesting he showered, taking pains not to touch himself, he retained his erection all though the shower and once he stepped out she jumped in.

"I'll be out in a minute." she hollered.

He noticed that the bag was folded neatly on the dresser―empty. He looked about to see if he could find what she had bought. He was thinking of opening her drawers when the shower stopped, she stepped out wrapped only in a towel kissed him, forcing him back, cornered him by the bed, grabbed his shoulders and made him sit, straddling him.

As she kissed him she grabbed his wrists and tried to force him onto his back, but he was too strong. She knew she needed other wiles to meet his challenge, to subdue him.

"Lie back for me." she whispered between kisses.

He paused, reluctantly, then lay back. She reached down and began to pull at his erection, stroking it.

"Tell me." she said and she pinned both his hands over his head, "What was the most number of times you came?"

"I'm about to cum now." he said, "Don't stop."

"Is that begging." she teased.

"No." he said sternly, slipping her grip and beginning to rise."

"Just teasing." she said lightly, "I'll tell you what, you lay back, let me pin you hands, answer my question, and I'll continue stroking you."

She started lovingly working his dick again, he relaxed, lay back.

"I don't know, four, maybe five times."

She pinned his wrists again, said "Wow, then I've got my work cut out for me."

"Why?"

"Because," she growled "You're gonna com for me more than you have for any other woman before."

Inwardly he smiled, he liked how aggressive she was being, straddling his waist, pinning his wrists, milking his dick.

But just when his hips began bucking, involuntarily telegraphing that he was about to cum, she stopped.

"Wha...?" he muttered dazedly.

"One condition." she said.

"I'm not begging." he said defensively, almost angrily.

"No, you just have to let me use the toys I bought tonight."

He frowned with a skeptical countenance.

She felt him going soft under her hand.

"It's nothing really." she continued, "I can't keep your wrists pinned, so let me use these."

She reached under the pillow and grabbed a pair of fur covered handcuffs.

He looked at her doubtfully.

"C'mon she said, it'll be fun." and fell to kissing his chest, moving her head lower, flicking her tongue across his shaft."

"Ok." he said as she licked him into submission.

She had him move and cuffed his hands over his head, tying the cuffs off with a bit of rope she looped under the bed. She was inexpert and it took a while, he fidgeted and complained.

"Hold on, it'll be worth it I promise.

When she finished she saw his erection had gone flat, slowly took to stroking it back to form. When it inflated just enough he began to buck his hips again.

"Can't have that." she said, "You have to wear these too." and produced a pair of leg cuffs. He saw no point in complaining and she quickly had him bound to the bed.

She stopped and said "Damn that was hard! I'm thirsty!" and grabbed a beer from the icebox. At which point she plopped herself into a chair and propped he feet up on his torso.

"Hey!" he protested.

"Oh hush up." she said, taking a swig of beer and playing with him with her feet. "There. That better?"

"Not really." he said.

"Funny, your erection's coming back." She said. "Has anyone ever made you cum using her feet?"

She asked.

"No." he replied sheepishly.

"The let me be the first to give you a foot-job." she smiled. And worked him. It took her a while but she was patient, and with him having been to the point of climax twice already her job was easier. She watched him as he entered the throws of ecstasy, shouting as he came. Something came over her, she was reminded of when she pet her dogs with her feet, she was teasing them but they didn't know it, and they came to love her feet.

When he stopped shuddering she said "I'm the first woman to make you cum with her feet."

"Yes." he breathed. "Where'd you learn to do that?"

"I didn't," she said, "It was my first time too."

"You like me feet?" she asked.

He paused.

She lifted her feet and placed them on his face.

He scrunched his face up and squirmed.

She tousled his hair with he toes saying "Aw, that's a good puppy," mocking him and rubbing her feet in his face. He tried to shout but as he opened his mouth she stuck her toes in.

"Does the good puppy want to lick my toes? Yes he does!" she intoned playfully.

But he was having nothing of it and forcefully turned his head away and shouted "STOP!"

At this point she set down the beer and muttered "This will never do." and reaching back under the pillow pulled out a ball-gag.

He tried to protest but she popped it into place and secured it with ease.

"Huh, beginner's luck." She said. Then "Now, you're going to cum for me six more times. I hope those three dozen oysters I fed you earlier do their job."

With that she set to work using her hands. At first it seemed fruitless as his dick sagged listlessly. But soon he began to respond and she worked him expertly into a frenzy. He came rather quickly all over his own belly. At which point she got up, took finished her beer in a few gulps, popped another and returned with a warm wet rag to clean him off.

She noticed that, though he was flaccid his dick was inflating again.

"Heh" she laughed "Looks like you really like this."

He looked askance at her.

"Nod if you like it." she commanded.

He paused, nodded, finally admitting it to himself.

"What?" She asked, you like being tied down and under my control?"

He paused again.

She wiped him lovingly, coaxing his balls with the warm wet rag, "Don't you like being tied down by my just a little bit?" she asked sweetly.

He nodded, hesitantly, reluctant to admit it, but wanting to share the moment with her, as sweet as she was being.

"You're sick!" She laughed and threw the rag at his face.

She plopped back into the chair and set her feet back on his chest, tipped her beer, grabbed the remote and turned on the tv.

"You make a good foot-rest." she declared. "Don't you agree?"

He shook his head 'no'.

"Yeah, well, we'll see about that." She said assuredly .

She flipped through the channels "Let's find some good porn." She said, "after all, you still have to cum four more times." She smirked without looking at him.

After a while she settled on a porn flick and added a pillow behind his head so he could see without straining.

"Got to give some motivation." She said, "Four more!"

After a while his dick began to loosen up again, During a hot scene in the movie she moved her feet to his dick and began to fondle it. He grew hard.

"Don't look now," she said, "but it looks like my feet own your dick!" she laughed.

In spite of himself he grew harder.

"Ooh." she crooned mockingly as she used her feet to stroke his dick, "Does it loves my feet? Yes it does! Will it do whatever my feetsies want? Yes it will!"

With her feet she coaxed him into a raging hard-on again, saying things like:

"Come on, cum for me pretty feet."

"Show me you love them."

"Show me your dick belongs to my feet."

Shuddering, he came again, almost as much as the first time, one shot actually reaching his head. He sunk into the bed covered in a sheen of sweat, feeling utterly spent and happy.

She opened another beer and washed him with a warm rag, plopped back on the chair, propped her feet onto his chest. He looked at them.

"I know." She said, "I've had guys tell me they were pretty. My feet. But I didn't realize they were such a turn on. Guess you don't mind being my foot-rest now, huh?"

He turned to look at her, a slow anger seeming to rise within him. She moved her feet onto his face and he shook his head free of them.

She laughed "Whoa doggie! Ok. Guess you don't like that."

She set her feet back on his chest "That better?"

He paused, but he seemed sated, nodded.

She tipped her beer, looked slyly at him "Told you you make a good foot-rest."

He began to smolder again, but she had a better feeling for him now, almost like...training her dogs...or flirting... but she knew instinctively what to do.

"Tell you what." she said, distracting his anger, "Let's make the bet double or nothing. I don't mean that I'll have you begging to be my foot-rest, that's too easy. How about this― I'll have you begging to suck my toes by the morning. Agree?"

He looked at her, his anger turning to shock.

"Don't be scared of losing the bet now." she chided, "You don't seem so sure of yourself now. What's the matter, do you want to suck my toes now?"

She wriggled her toes on his chest, "They're pretty, aren't they? Don't you just want to pop them in your mouth?"

He froze.

"What's the matter? Can't resist them?"

He shook his head.

"No? You can't resist them?"

He shook his head angrily.

"Oh, so you can resist sucking on my pretty toes?"

He nodded.

"Then what's keeping you from doubling the bet?" she teased, "Just nod once if you accept the bet."

He nodded immediately.

Sucker. She thought, then snorted on her beer. Toe-sucker.

"Oh, and since we're doubling, the winner owns the loser for one month. Deal?"

He nodded, seemed to realize he'd been played, didn't seem to care about as much as wondering about his feelings about being played and subdued. His feelings of, what? Pleasure?

He looked at her in wonder, but she had turned her attention back to the tv.

Some time later, and a few beers later, she chose another porn show and began to work him with his hands. But he was a bit sore now and he flinched under her touch.

"Come on," she said, "Three down three to go. You're going to cum for me more than you've ever cum for anyone on the face of the earth."

"Need a little help?" she said tenderly then reached under the bed and produced a bottle of flavored massage oil. "Raspberry" she said, "My favorite."

She smeared the oil generously over him, from the tops of his thighs over his balls and shaft to the top of his belly and worked sensuously and rhythmically to bring him into a full erection again, for the fourth time. But try as he might he couldn't cum― he was dry― he was sure of it. But she worked carefully, taking time to massage his balls, coaxing them into producing for her again. She worked him like she scratched her dogs, feeling his body respond, working it, bending it to her will, forcing him to cum again. Eventually he couldn't resist her and with a huge amount of bucking and groaning came, a miniscule spurt, for the fourth time.

His body sagged back into the bed, completely sated, and he wondered idly how he could come for a fifth time.

Then he noticed she hadn't stopped working on him. Her hand, drenched in oil, continued pulling on his shaft. His discomfort was excruciating. He writhed and wriggled to escape her grasp, but to no avail, and she straddled his stomach reverse doggie-style to pin him, keeping him at her mercy. The feeling was excruciating but he settled his mind and with a mighty thrust tried to buck her off of him. But in vain. He tried several more times, but each time his thrust was weaker.