Learning About Myself Pt. 01

In the next few weeks I received a number of spankings. Paul was gradually expecting more of me and the adjustments wasn't always easy. He admitted I was arguing less and when I did, I realised, it was about details not whatever he told me he wanted. At times he would spank me because he wanted to, which, at first, didn't feel right that I should be punished when I had done nothing wrong. But, even during the first one, I realised, over his knee that he was allowing me to please him and also strangely bond with him without the problems of me doing anything wrong. These weren't quite as hard as the 'punishment' spankings but went on longer and aroused me even more. I had accepted his control over my spanking for whatever reason. I continued to feel cleansed too and looked forward to these. The sex continued to make me glow contentedly.

He caressed me after each time I went over his knee. His hand would gentle me, his fingers caressing in my hair, on my face and skin as I lay on him, light headed and floaty. Often he would have me turn over at some stage and lay face up over him. My legs would naturally spread and my hands went above my head now without conscious thought, offering myself totally. I was a slut. He would look at me and I felt vulnerable yet protected and so very horny.

He had earlier told me he liked hold-up stockings and stockings and suspenders and blushingly I found myself buying some without even being asked even though I knew they looked more tarty. I had begun to do lots of things he said he liked or suggested. He suggested I get rid of all my tights, which I did. After that I only wore stockings and sometimes suspenders even for work. I even accepted his decree that whenever I went out, including going to work, I would ask if what I was wearing was acceptable, including whether or not I was allowed a bra or knickers.

He left any actions at work out of our agreement, it was a world without him he said and I needed something like that, but clothing on my journey was not exempt. If I wasn't allowed a bra or knickers I had to take them with me in my handbag and put them on when I arrived at work, being allowed them there, then take them off when I left the office before walking to the train. Of course I argued at first and brought up silly details such as what happens at lunchtimes for instance. We both knew it was gentle provocation on my part and I paid a price more than once.

It was really scary leaving it up to him but I always knew I would be excited during my journeys on the days I wasn't allowed some or all of my underwear. I became not only far more aware of my own blossoming sexuality but also very aware of the different materials against my body, my nipples especially. Some would glide like a caress, others would rub and irritate until my nipples ached. Not only that but the knowledge of others seeing how erect they were, others seeing my wobbling tits or seeing up my legs and perhaps finding I hadn't knickers on kept me feeling vulnerable and, I'm ashamed to admit, horny.

Strangely, I managed to stay almost the same as normal at work, I was still able to be strong and decisive and, at times, wilful, but people said that I had become softer somehow. My submission did not diminished my self confidence or, strange as it may seem, my sense of independence as a person. I didn't feel 'on heat' at work as I thought of it now, but it came on me as I was removing anything I needed to remove to come home.

My orgasms were now far more intense and lasted much longer than usual than before my spankings began. I was still slightly shocked by how responsive I had become. As I played with my nipples I found that if I squeezed them to the point of pain, my pussy would throb and I realised an orgasm was building from the pain I was creating in my nipples. If I rubbed my clit and pinched my nipples as painfully as I could to my amazement I could cum really quickly.

He decided that I was to be naked more and more often now, not just before or after a spanking, and he used my mouth a lot more than he ever had. I think I became better at sucking him, sucking his cock, I certainly enjoyed pleasuring him in my mouth far more. The initial revulsion at the taste, no not the taste, the consistency of his semen had disappeared with my acceptance of his use of me like that. I found I definitely enjoyed his cock in my mouth more these days, the feel of his thickness making my lips go int an 'O' shape, filling me, the taste and smell of him. I wasn't to use my hand when I sucked him, just my mouth. I had to leave my hands behind me, accepting his control over fucking of my mouth. I found, with his help and some practice with a banana, that if I relaxed more I could take him deeper. I could kneel happily simply having his cock between my lips, I felt vulnerable yet safe between his thighs. Eventually my jaw didn't ache as much and I felt more and more able to please him. I was listening and learning and I knew he was pleased with me, but I found myself uncertain as to why I was allowing this. What had happened?

Sometimes he would expect me to just take specific clothes off so I was showing him my tits or my pussy. Sometimes he would just look at me as I was exhibiting myself, often being posed by him in some overtly sexual position such as kneeling on the sofa with my head against the back and my bottom thrust high and my legs apart, or laying holding my legs up wide and apart.

At other times he would grope me as I displayed like this or as I worked in the kitchen or sat in the living room as though he owned me, not taking my feelings into account. I found it strangely reassuring and arousing, not offensive as I certainly would have done previously. I welcomed the feel of him, often flaunting myself like a slut. I was aroused so often these days. I began to think I was an exhibitionist after all as I liked being on display for him, letting him look at me how and when he wanted, even in really slutty poses, stripping when he wanted, opening when he wanted. One of the things that caused me to be spanked all too often was getting over the habit of closing my knees when we were alone. I wasn't allowed to squeeze my thighs together and always make sure I appeared available to him.

Gradually evenings at home where I wasn't totally exhibited or wearing only a top or a skirt, not both, were rare. I knew I liked it too, excited by the exhibitionism of it. He would examine me too, often when posed in some embarrassingly way to see how aroused I was, how big my lips were, how wet I was, how I was learning not to tighten as much if he pushed into my anus. He would tell me what he was doing and tell me how I felt to embarrass me. He would also check me for unwanted hair but the lasers had done their job and though I needed to go back a couple of times the result was to his liking.

He had me do other things too. For instance he put a blindfold on me, one I had never seen before, a leather one that shut out everything and did not allow any cheating on my part. It was strange wearing a blindfold. I noticed things I hadn't, his smell was more intense, the sounds, little touches. He made me climb on the dinning table naked. I had to walk along it from end to end, or sideways, do turns and other things to increase my trust of him.

Gradually I simply did as I was told without worrying at all. At times he would feed me mouthful by mouthful, at times he would show me exactly how he wished me to sit or stand. There were many things I had to learn and experience.

It hadn't taken long and I was allowing him to control me in all these ways. Inside myself I knew, I submitted almost eagerly. Although it felt good laying naked on the sofa with him sitting dressed watching TV, my head on his lap, it never felt quite normal. I was always aware that others would find it quite odd, kinky even.

After a few weeks I was becoming relatively accustomed to doing some of these that he told me to do but then a higher level humiliation came. He wanted to know how I masturbated, how often and where. Of course masturbation was something that I did by myself with the door locked in an empty house and even then with music turned up just enough so that no one could hear me as I knew I made some sounds. It was private. Of course girls share information about different toys, such as rabbits and stuff but that was as far as sharing went. Doing it or even talking about ones own activity was private.

I was made to stand in front of him, naked of course, as he quizzed me, I soon realised pretending innocence was a waste of time as my next spanking had become a punishment for not telling the truth and giving half truths. My story of innocence was falling apart under his questioning. Eventually I gave in and blushingly gave an account of my growing sexual self knowledge.

"I want to see."

"What?!" No one had ever caught me, no one had ever seen!

"I want you to show me how you play with yourself. Now. Here."

"Now? Here?" I repeated dumbly. I didn't know if I could. Shame washed through me leaving me breathless. I had spent years with the idea that it was bad and I shouldn't do it. Now he was suddenly expecting me to change all those habits. "I don't usually do it standing" came out like a petulant child.

"I do not like your tone."

"Sorry. I am sorry. I don't know if I can." I pleaded.

"Relax, take it easy. Don't make a drama of showing me your own pleasure when you should be pleased I want to see it!"

I stood thinking about this. It was just humiliating but I could see where he was coming from. In a strange way I was pleased, but... "I feel so self conscious, its so humiliating, I've never..."

"Of course you do! Would I want it if you were perfectly OK about it? I know it's humiliating, I guessed no one had seen. The point is I want to and you look even more desirable when you feel humiliation. Go and sit in the chair with your legs over the arms. I would be very surprised if you aren't getting wet at the thought."

Out of control my face suddenly blazed scarlet when I moved as I realised my thighs had become slippery under his questioning. I could feel the emotional maelstrom coupled with the sexual power of his demands. Unfortunately he was right.

"Am I in charge of your punishment?"

"Yes."

"Then it seems logical that I should be in charge of your pleasures too. Don't you agree?"

"Yes." I whispered. .

"Are you giving me that control?" It seemed logical for him to have the good as well as the bad things. It was enough. There was no reason I shouldn't give this over to him that I could think of except how humiliating it felt.

"Yes."

"Good girl. Do you masturbate now?"

"No. Yes. Sometimes. Before you spanked me not much. After, I needed to more." I blushed again. "I can't help it. Even... even... now you... when you.. you fuck me a lot."

"In future I want you tell me whenever you want to masturbate and not touch yourself unless I agree."

"But if you are here I don't want to, I want you. Now it's only when you are not with me."

"Do you have a phone?"

"You know I do."

"I warned you before. I will spank you for that tone of voice."

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

"You will be spanked. Obviously I knew. If you need to finger yourself you can use your phone to ask permission if I'm not there. Can't you?"

"Yes."

"And, also, as you have agreed that I now have control over your pleasure you will only cum when you have been given permission. You generally will have permission but I may not always give it and not always immediately. And, of course, you will also do it whenever I instruct you to, like now."

"Yes."

That first time I fingered myself in front of him was excruciating and the ones after often as bad, but I couldn't hide the fact that my body seemed to get off on the exposure and the sexual humiliation he created. I can remember him talking to me softly and I had to verbalise what I was doing, how, why. Each time he pushed me further it felt I gave him a little bit more of myself. I couldn't even hide the fact I enjoyed a little self given pain.

Initially I could only just about cope with the total humiliation of fingering and squeezing myself as he watched and often directed, but his pleasure and arousal were obvious when watching me. Very soon, knowing I was pleasing him overcame some of my own feelings and I accepted his instruction without thought even though accepting the humiliation. That humiliation seemed to multiply my arousal and my orgasms, and with him as an audience, were far stronger than those before on my own. It allowed me to come to terms with my growing and strangely arousing feeling of submission.

He loved to watch me making myself cum and usually I needed to suck him off immediately, for both him and for me. A couple of times he even phoned me to tell me to cum for him, though never at work. Obviously he was unable to see but he told me exactly where to do it and how, and he could hear me. It felt really embarrassing doing on command, especially when he wasn't there and I felt that everyone in the street knew what I was doing. I did consider not doing as he said, it would have been possible for me to be untruthful initially. I thought about it and found that I was unwilling to not to do as I was told now, not only because I would probably have been caught out when discussing things but I found I wanted to be obedient, especially sexually.

That first time he had me on the way to orgasm and suddenly demanded that I stop caused me total and utter surprise and frustration. He stopped me so very near. I was shaking. I couldn't believe it and the air was filled with swear words I didn't even know. It took me long minutes to accept and far longer to come to terms with. It hadn't occurred to me that to give him control of doing something also meant he could stop me.

I remembered that before I gave up any control at all, I was sometimes concerned about not cumming during sex. Now, I was afraid of cumming when I wasn't allowed to. Now I was ready to cum virtually anytime.

In fact the masturbating on command, as well as, most obviously, my spankings but also my enforced nudity, became the most obvious sign to myself of the acceptance of his control and my growing submission. Gradually, though it wasn't always easy and was always really shameful, I found I began to accept that cumming was not mine to decide upon.

I realised it had been no different to when fucked me these days. I knew I would only cum when he decided. It wasn't my choice, wasn't my place. When he fucked me he often took me to the brink and held me back from the edge over and over regardless of my pleading. He had shown that he could physically make me cum or make me wait which had increased my pleasure, now his authority alone was enough to make me stop myself if necessary and increased my pleasure when it was granted.

This was something more than being spanked or being displayed. Maybe some other women were spanked. I didn't know of any but if I did they they would hardly bring it up. No one else, no one at all, I was certain, would give up control of their orgasms, accept when they could or couldn't cum, be told when to or when not to play with themselves. This more than anything made me realise what I had become. I now accepted I was a sexual submissive and Paul was my dominant. It was such a surprising thought, yet, somehow, it felt so right.

I was learning obedience to his demands more and more and the fact I was aroused so quickly by it made it both easier to do as I was told and more aware of how much of a slut I was inside. Running alongside this was my growing acceptance of pleasing him wherever we were, of his right to grope me in restaurants or shops or the car or to have me suck his cock whenever he told me. At first my mind virtually rebelled when he did this, I felt his hand sliding up my skirt in the aisle of a dress shop initially I automatically twisted and closed my legs.

I was given a punishment spanking immediately we reached home. After that he spoke to me at length and I knew he expected compliance, that he enjoyed his use of me, that I had to accept my body was his to touch and use and display even if, and maybe because of the humiliation it brought. Over the weeks I knew the humiliation of opening or even removing my clothes so that he could see or touch me in situations no nice girls would even dream of. What surprised me was how aroused my body became with each submission, especially further steps in submitting. I always became very wet and excited now whenever I felt his control, and this growing discovery left me knowing how defenceless I was, mentally and physically. I knew that when I ever I thought of rebelling he could simply touch me and feel how wet I was to make me realise how complicit I was in my own submission. It felt as if I had become addicted to his control over me, of submitting, to the feeling of being constantly aroused with him.

One evening Paul told me to undress. I had been wearing a suspender belt at work, it was not as comfortable as hold ups but it had the benefit of making me feel like the secret slut I was which I found exciting. As I undressed and folded my clothes in front of him he told me to keep the suspender belt and stockings on. After he inspected the smoothness and dampness of my sex I was told to drape myself over his knees. He would have told me if I was to be spanked for punishment so I was not too worried. A finger slipped into my mouth and I suckled on it submissively. My thighs parted for him as he gently stroked over my buttocks and thighs, I could imagine what he saw of me. His fingers slid over my lips, now hot and swelling under his touch. I felt them push inside, well lubricated on my juices. He spread the juices over my lips and clit, upping my arousal moment by moment until I was breathing quicker. I was pushing up to his fingers, trying to spread wider, trying to be more open, trying to have him deeper. I knew he hadn't given me permission, I needed to be careful. Saliva drooled from my mouth around his finger, juices from my sex. He kept me like this, hanging on desperately in a kind of limbo.

"I have decided that someone else will watch you being punished, not that it is really punishment any more." I had to come back to reality, I had been lost in my own thoughts until that moment. I couldn't take the words in properly, I had to keep repeating them over in my mind. My pussy was clamped around his fingers and I had to try and concentrate on not cumming too. My mouth was full and I couldn't speak. I seemed unable to focus on any one thing.