Sarah's Journey into Submission

Of course, it was all a part of the master plan. I would get the paddle or some other instrument on my ass before the plugs, so that I would come to welcome their foreign intrusion after a time. I would not get to cum unless my ass was filled, so that I would associate the foreign sensations was pleasure and they would become one.

She had noticed the sensitivity of my nipples that first day, and tormented them with clips of various types. She would hang weights from them and drive me around the room with a paddle, or bell me like a cat, so that my screams would have a musical counterpoint. She even had nipple clamps that got tighter as you pulled them, but through the pain and the gasps, I only got wetter when they were.

I would lie across her strong thighs while she spanked me or fiddled with my loins. She would wring orgasms from me that left me limp, then revive my lust with her hairbrush or a paddle, then satisfy me again with a strap-on dildo, fucking me slow and deep. I would gasp beneath her with my head turned away to hide my overwhelming lust and watch her feral grin from the corner of my eye.

Sexual need was a constant pulse that turned my nipples into hard buttons and made my puss weep with frustration. Yet Mrs. Lucy often let me remain unsatisfied, and I quickly realized that I wasn't going to cum without something in my ass either. In order to get used to the new sensations, she wanted the two things to be combined. No pain, no gain. So she would torture me by commanding me to masturbate before her and stopping me short of release, and I knew before I started that if my ass was empty, I would not cum. My self-control became incredible. Even when I went I left for the night, my hands never strayed.

My mouth was also something she never kept empty, and I soon learned to relax my jaw completely, like a python. "Let's see what else that mouth is good for," she would say, before strapping a cock around her waist that made me catch my breath. I sucked the strap-on down past my gag relax and went to work, and she loved it when I stared up at her with my mouth full of cock. She also sometimes liked to hold my ears or reach under me to pinch my nipples while I serviced the fake cock. I was often on all fours while I serviced her this way, my exposed ass high up in the air.

A finger, slick with my own juices, stabbed into my ass, making me mewl around the cock.

She filled my mouth with the fake cock, arcing her hips to urge me deeper. I took a deep breath and swallowed when I felt myself begin to choke. The pressure against the back of my throat primed tears, and my eyes were streaming by the time she removed the dildo and straddled my head to make her cum. I licked her clean every time.

Chapter 10

Ass aching and bladder busting, I barely made it through the few hours Mrs. Lucy had been out for the next day. When she returned, she made me thank her for the plug before she took it out.

"Turn around and bend over."

I did. I could feel her hands lifting my skirt and spreading my cheeks, little sparks of electricity coming out of her finger tips as they brushed my ass and ran them down the crack of my ass. She stopped when she got to the plug, and tapped it with a long red nail, sending faint vibrations into me.

"It looks good on you," she remarked. Then, she laughed. Sorry, wrong preposition. In you."

She had me thank her then, beg her to take it out and red faced, I did.

It was that same Friday evening, when I was almost out the door and on my way home with thoughts of returning for the whole weekend, that she finally reminding me of what was in store.

"Don't forget," she said demurely. "This weekend, you're going to get your ass fucked."
Chapter 11

Saturday morning, I got a lesson in real bondage. Mrs. Lucy' favourite way of binding me was diabolically simple. She would have me sit on the floor and grab my toes. My shins and forearms were wrapped in canvas sleeves and strapped tightly together – left to left and right to right. A two-foot spreader bar separated my knees. That was it.

Rolled onto my back, I was helpless as a flipped battle, and could only flail the air with my fingers and toes. Of course, my crotch was always frightfully available for whipping or penetration.

Rolled onto my front, I became a sort of living pyramid. My bound limbs, shoulders, nose and chin formed the base. My ass became the apex.

My large perky breasts – that needed no bra to keep them riding high -- were wrapped with several strips of leather into two large jiggling grapefruit sized balls of quivering flesh.

From an eyebolt screwed through the center of the spreader bar, I could be hung from the ceiling, where I would spin slowly, my head and loins dangling at crotch level for her convenience. Small weights dangling from chains clipped to my nipples, my contortions turned them into wild pendulums while I was whipped and impaled, the center of my blazing target a black bulls eye -– the base of a flat plug that distended me.

Chapter 12

Brought into the punishment room later that night, center stage was a high T shaped bench. It was padded on top and had canvas straps on like they use on patients in psycho wards. Mrs. Lucy stopped me when my hips were against the edge of the bench. Collared, she pulled my leash to bend me over it. She didn't say anything as she fastened my wrists to the legs of the bench, nor when she spread my ankles and chained them to the floor.

It was like a way surreal and solemn moment. The only sound in the room was the click of buckles and the crack of leather under me as I settled into what was to come. After my wrists were fastened, I knew I wasn't going anywhere, but Mrs. Lucy strapped up my knees and elbows too, pulling my elbows in tight against the bench and my knees farther apart. My collar was on a short chain, with my chin hanging over the edge. I could raise my head just enough to see straight ahead.

There was this padded bolster thing under my hips. I thought that it was there to make me more comfortable, until Mrs. Lucy wrapped a canvas strap across the small of my back and snugged it down. That tilted my pelvis and opened up my crack about another inch. I felt like I was the guest of honour at some pagan ritual. If she was planning a virgin sacrifice the joke was on her.

"You're so beautiful," she said, shaking me out of my trance.

I didn't feel beautiful. Certainly not with the number 4 butt plug I wearing.

Behind me, I could feel Mrs. Lucy snapping on a pair of surgical gloves. I smelled the oil before I felt it being massaged into every fold and cranny of my ass, around the plug, then between my legs and down my thighs. She was mapping out the territory. I recognized the way my skin got tingly and right; it was herbal rub.

I threw her a look that would melt Hitler's heart.

She just gave me this adoring gaze. "I know, it's the fear that makes you so beautiful."

Okay, so much for clemency. She was going to hurt me because it got her off. I would get off too, probably, but I could easily pass on the pain part and go directly to the sex.

The latex gloves hit the wastebasket. "All set."

Coming around, she held up two paddles where I could see them. "Which do you prefer?"

Ouch! None of the above? I thought, but instead said; "The leather one, please."

She used the rubber one, which would redden me nicely.

Mrs. Lucy spanked me fast and hard, the way you pond steak to make it tender. She wasn't mad. She just seemed interested in making a good job of it. The blows started high, just below the place where it dimples when I stand, where there isn't much meat to cover the bond. Each time the paddle hit, she moved it just a little farther down, and after the first couple of dozen, she was finding the sweet spot, where the sting almost feels good.

I was not a good girl. I struggled like hell, tested that canvas to the max, yipping like a puppy the whole time. Then I unscrunched my eyes enough to see Mrs. Lucy' reflection in the mirror ahead of me. She was right there behind me, and I could see so much hear in her eyes that I wanted to take it – for her. I closed my eyes again and tried to ride it out.

"Just a little more," I told myself. Mrs. Lucy' pussy had to be dripping wet by now, for sure. She would have other uses for me soon, and I managed a tight smile for her. I was sort of adjusting to the pain, if that's possible, discovering that it hurt less if I went limp and zoned out. I got into this sort of Zen state, so that each explosion of pain seemed to echo everywhere, radiating heat down to my own sopping puss.

Like most I would imagine, weird shit crossed my mind while I was getting my ass paddled. I suppose I was distracting myself or something. I wondered if I would be getting any from my Mistress tonight, then I wondered if she would be nicer to me if I gave her some head first. Then I thought of a really lame joke. Why is Mrs. Lucy like an insurance agent? She goes for full coverage.

Full coverage is what I got, twice around the globe, up and down the thighs. The whole time I was barking "HUNH! HUNH!" like a pig every time she hit me. I was drilling and sweating. My eyes were dripping, and my nose, and my pussy. This rump roast was well done, cooked to the bone.

Things became completely psycho then. Mrs. Lucy began murmuring encouragement to me. "Good girl! Raise up for me. Higher! Good!" and the paddle would reward me.

My whole focus narrowed down to the next impact, and the next, and (OH MISTRESS!!!!) the next.

I wanted it harder and faster and forever, until my brain suddenly exploded and I became a pure sensation, yelping, mindless, wallowing in agony.

Suddenly, it was over.

I never knew if she got tired. The next thing I knew, my face was in her hands and I was bawling, choking out sobs until there was no air left, then whooping my lungs full of air so that I could do it some more. I was pathetic.

She kept shushing me until I got the message. The hurt was going away. "Is it bad?" She wasn't mocking me.

"Yes Mistress!" Actually, I was in a weird sort of slave space right then. I wanted her to take me up to bed so that I could show her just how totally subbie I was feeling, but I didn't really want to be loose yet either. Then it hit me that what I wanted wouldn't make any difference one way or the other – and that turned my puss into an absolute river!

She wiped my eyes and forehead with a damp cloth. "All those lovely tears shed for my sake."

I blew my nose on the tissue she offered me, and opened my mouth when she put her soul into a kiss that seemed to explain everything. I kissed her back, opening my mouth for her tongue and giving her mind. I was getting high on her perfume again, her hand stroking my face so gently.

Then she pulled away. "I think that you're ready for the taws now."

After that, I was too busy screaming to worry about it, and so I was gagged. "Face down," she warned as the black rubber ball went in and the straps found their way behind my head. "I know that little trick too," she said into my ear. "That if you keep your head up, you can't get it quite as tight. Already trying to cut corners, huh?"

The taws was different, less pop and more bite. The stiff leather wrapped and snapped and found all of the really tender places the paddle had missed. I howled and bawled and made impossible, incoherent and muffled promises.

Much, much later, I opened my eyes hopefully during a pause in the pain. My Mistress was in front of me, untying her robe, and I noticed that it was tended in the front. I was sort of out of my head by that time, because my first thought was that she had enjoyed the show enough to grow a hard on.

Then she dropped the robe and I saw that she had.

"I promised you something." Her voice was husky.

It was her strap on, of course, but the color was tan and matched her own skin.

Coming around behind me, she tapped the plug that was still there inside with her finger. "So what do you say, I actually pull this out and replace it with my cock," she cooed, while all I could do was moan in response. "Do you think that will feel better?" she twisted it around inside me. "Take a deep breath," she warned.

"MMmmmm! MMmmmmmm! MMmmmmmm!" it took three deep breaths while it began its slow exit, and when the tapered base came it was rewarded with a very loud "Ooohhhhhhhhhhh!" and when that was out, an even bigger "OOOohhhhh!" when the whole thing slipped entirely out.

"You're pretty open now," she smiled.

She came around again, squatted down to look deep into my eyes, studying my reaction. I stared back, letting her review the parade of emotion passing through my brain; humiliation, terrors, and a sort of sick anticipation. Her eyes were disturbing, so full of heat I thought she wanted to devour me or something. I knew it probably wouldn't do me any good at this point to bed for mercy, not that I really wanted to. "Don't worry," she cooed. "I'm going to go real slow, take my time and enjoy this."

Then she stood up again and I saw that big fake dick bobbing in front of my face. There was no doubt about what she expected to do, and I opened wide when she removed the gag. When she popped it into my mouth, I discovered it was hard inside and soft outside. Just like the real thing.

I swallowed convulsively, almost gagging on the thing in my mouth, tickling my nose with public hairs and inhaling Mrs. Lucy' scent while I sucked her big, beautiful cock.

That was just a ritual, of course. She never got off on having her strap on sucked, except mentally. She just wanted me to pay homage to it and get it wet. I held my breath when she popped the dildo out of my mouth and walked slowly around the bench until she was behind me.

"All that," she said as the cock rested on my tailbone. "Is going right up your ass."

Even with all that lube, she was slow and careful putting it in. I had already learned how to relax, the plugs and anal balls taught me that, and the dildo didn't hurt at all. It was just a feeling of being opened and filled. The sensation was nothing like normal fucking. It was more personal, like the first time all over again, only more. Once the tip was in me, she worked it deeper with short jabbing motions, not pushing too hard or fast, letting me get used to it. Every time I thought that I had it all in, her hips would grin and she poked it in a little deeper.

"Well that went in easy," she commented.

Then she was all the way in. Her public hair tickled my reddened ass. I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. She just stayed that was for a while, in deep, letting me get use to its bulk. I could feel my pulse against it.

"I wanted to do this the first time I saw you," she said. I could tell from the sound of her voice that it was some kind of peak experience for her – me too.

She pulled out slow, and I could feel my ass contracting like it didn't want to let go of that yummy cock. When it was almost out, she pushed in again. I relaxed and sighed.

"Do it, Mistress" I said. "Fuck my ass."

She smacked my ass with a hard hand and I tightened up. "I don't need your permission."

Then she fucked me, deep and long, faster and harder. I was bleating like a sheep after a couple of minutes. She flipped a switch on her hip and I could feel the dildo begin to vibrate, driving the sensation of her thrusting into my womb, buzzing against my clit. I realized that there must be something in it for her too; because she started panting the way she does just before she cums, and jamming me hard was enough to hurt.

It was too much. I started begging for her to give me a break, just for a second, but this was rape after all, and my crying just seemed to turn her own that much more. I was starting to feel like I was getting it from some machine. Then she was howling too, and digging her nails into my shoulders.

She collapsed on top of me, and we both puffed like we had finished a race or something. Her breath was hot on my hair as she killed the vibrations that were still humming through my ass.

She laughed, that deep throaty laugh that always turns me on. "Was it good for you too?"

I hadn't cum, if that's what she meant, and it had been a pretty intense time, and her words were meant to be a tension reliever, I suppose.

"Please," I thought, lost in the moment. "You just beat my ass and fucked me good and proper until you came, I wasn't supposed to enjoy it." But I had, of course, and strapped there to the bench, I knew that even though I was mad and scared and wanted out in the worst possible way, my pussy was juicing like crazy. Talking spoiled it. I just wanted her to use me again, and she didn't really need validation or approval.

She was quiet for a minute, and I had that weird feeling that I often get, like she was reading my mind. Maybe she was; because when she spoke again she was back in character. "I will punish that little outburst later," she said.

Suddenly deprived of the cock, my little hole gaped and clenched at her words. Feeding dollops of greased into the now hot tube of my anus, she pushed her fingers up into me, feeling the muscles slacken once more, until a tight bouquet of three fingers played me.

She slid her hand out and greased the thick shaft bobbing between her legs.

There was always something solemn about the moment of penetration, like a ritual sacrifice that had been playing out again and again, losing none of its power through repetition.

We each hold our breath as the fat knob once again seeks and presses. She holds me steady with a hand on each blistered cheek.

"Open for me," she breathes.

The little mouth flexes, and she feeds the knob into the right ring of muscle that guards the door. I gasp a little, I'm already sore from the first fucking, but she's in.

She shifts her hips and braces her legs. Below her, I'm trying to push against her and swallow the whole length. She twists the base of the dildo and I feel my ass clench around it as the vibrations start up again, the tip buzzing angrily inside me like a trapped bee. My pussy starts buzzing along in sympathy, the root of the cock humming against my clit. If she kept this up, I would cum soon –- cum from being fucked in the ass. Just thinking about how completely perverse that was almost put me right over right then.

This was what I had always wanted after all, and I was soon crying out for permission to cum as she glided it in. I arched my back, raising my head to voice a moan as she draped herself across my back and the cock buries into to the hilt inside me, her teeth closing softly over the nape of my neck.

"Say you are mine."

"I'm yours, Mistress!"

Beg me for it."

"Please, can I cum while you fuck me up the ass, Mistress."

The slow piston starts again and she's thrusting, both of us lost in reverie, lost in sharing this sacred violation. She thrusts and I grunt like a pig with every jab. She thrusts, and I ride the wave of orgasm to its crest and cry out as she goes balls deep inside me.

Chapter 13

Sunday afternoon, I was hanging in the center of the punishment room by my wrists, as Mrs. Lucy enjoyed the view from behind. I was raised up on my tiptoes, but my cuffs were padded so I could take the weight on my wrists for a while without injury. My breasts were high on my chest and my ribs expanded as I was tractioned. My calf muscles were straining.