The Extreme BDSM Experience

Sara liked BD/SM sites and she was a frequent member. She was popular in her own right and many of the locals and even people abroad held her opinion in high esteem. She felt confident in her opinions and experience was on her side. She was cautious yet secure in her decisions. Never did she make a decision that would put her or any of her friends in danger. She frequented the monthly munches and play parties got a lot of attention there.

Never did Sara commit to a Dom simply because her personality was too strong. Sara knew deep down that she was a submissive but there was never a personality strong enough to carry that claim to fame. Fifteen years she was in the lifestyle but never committed. There were strong Dom's that enticed her but behind the scenes not a soul could command her. The emotions were there but the strength just wallowed in the mire.

She was strong she was, a pillar of strength and down deep yearned for a master, a man that would make her smile when he walked into the room. One she had to with hold her emotions out of fear that the discovery would lead to weakness, a weakness that could be made into an advantage. That display she knew would lead her astray. Only a true dominant would be her master forever, and she could never give that up for it could contaminate her bidding.

Sara was five feet nine inches tall. Intimidating in her height and a strong muscular build from working out made men bow to her feet. She dominated them for fun. Although she did not find the submissive nature of a man enticing sexually, she loved the worship of her god like body. Her hair was blond and her eyes were so light blue they seemed as if they did not have color. She was stunning and usually shocked people in her first meeting. Men bowed to her and women were silent, knowing she was straight or so they thought, and would never challenge the mistress of darkness. She carried a crop around with her tempting any man to challenger her ability. Very rarely did she get approached, and it was only by a true masochist.

She was surfing the internet and found she received an email on one of her sites from Dark Soul. "Dark Soul did not know what he was getting himself into," she said to herself and she played. Since her pictures were blocked out she knew he was grasping at straws and probably did not see her friends list of 200+ people.

His email read, "Tell me about you."

At first she was kind of disgusted at the simple approach but in the pit of her stomach due to having an irritable day she wrote back. "Why should I?"

He said "Because you move me and I don't like to be moved!"

The line was a little arrogant but played to her arrogance. So she responded, "Get used to it!"

He said he could not and that he needed to make her submit.

The conversation continued in the normal banter of who's tougher and she had to admit, he had challenge she at least would like to address. She transferred her IM address to him reluctantly and was accepted, but never replied too.

Sara was attending the local regular munch and it seemed busy that night. Many people she did not know were there and she had her usual two male submissives on leashes and tied one to the wall where he belonged for not being ready on time.

The chaining in her method was a little harsh because she had a way of over handing the shackle where it left the submissive on one foot so the shackle would not cut into his wrist. With time she knew he would bleed a little, but fuck him she thought. Next time he will be on time with his garb. God forbid, she only made them wear a g-string and a harness with a collar. She liked to show off her subs to the Domme's. She knew she was superior to them all and only had the best of stock!

When she was finished shackling Kenstrife to the wall and Lashing was at the sofa waiting her instruction, she reached to grab her drink and noticed a different stirrer in it. When she lifted it out of her glass it was black and inscribed with the word "Dark Soul."

Her blood ran cold, the mystery and the stealth unto which it had to be placed. She looked at Lashing and his black eye looked at her in wonder and he asked "What Mistress?"

She back handed him and asked him if he saw who put this stirrer in her drink.

He exclaimed, "No Mistress," and cowered to her fist.

The remaining of the night was filled with paranoia. She swore she saw people looking at her at every turn. She struck her subs way to many times for their own good and they cowered to her feet continually. She did not like this mystery and how he commanded her and he had only had one conversation. She was way too powerful and had too much control to feel this way. It was three weeks from their conversation and he still had her attention. None that she would admit to anyone, but definitely had her attention.

It was ten o'clock on Wednesday night when her phone rang. Kenstrife and Lashing were sleeping in their cages and she lifted the receiver in disgust; "Who is calling me at this ungodly hour," she exclaimed?

Silence for a couple of seconds was followed by a faint but commanding voice. It said, "You will meet me on Friday at 10PM at the Gridiron parking and you will be dressed submissively."

She knew the voice and fear entered her speech only for a second and she said, "Who the fuck do you think you are?" Although the words were strong, her voice was not. She was angry for being taken by surprise and showing the weakness, but it was too late.

The voice said, "You heard me!" and the line went blank.

Following the phone call and every waking moment she was up she spent rehearsing her approach to this arrogant Dom. She knew this game all too well, and no man would make her feel this way, or so she tried to convince herself. She would never take this risk. The Gridiron was an old sports bar down in the rough area of town. A place she used to hang out when she was younger. She kept telling herself it was a coincidence, but somehow she knew it was not.

She could feel his power radiating from him and knew he would better her and that point scared her. It was a bitter sweet conflict, the conflict of a role play that every woman hopes to experiences but is afraid when the condition presents itself. Maybe it is a secret rape that they like, or the boss bangs her on the desk, but in any fashion, the fear was there and the trust was not.

Everything in her body said not to go but somehow in the pit of her soul she knew she was going to attend. She kept telling herself that she was going there to kick this guy's ass, but she really knew better. She would take her subs, but these guys were not set up to be protectors. They were submissives by nature and conflict was not on the menu.

Friday rolled around way to fast and the fear was setting in to the highest degree. Her body kept telling her to go and experience and her mind was saying, "What, are you fucking stupid?" She at least decided, although she was going to go and break every rule she ever made for herself, she would not dress in a submissives garbs.

She loaded Kenstrife and Lashing into the car and there was silence. An uncanny silence that echoed in the cab of the car and she kept getting the feeling that they knew something but could not place the silence. Maybe it was because she was so cruel three nights ago. Kenstrife's wrists were cut from the shackles and Lashings both eyes were black now.

She did not talk as they drove and when they arrived she told them to sit quietly in the car and make sure she was safe. Their posture changed and a more protective demeanor rose to the surface. The car slowed and stopped in front of the bar and it still looked the same. Henry was still belly up and Mitch and Dave had their own table. She had a great greeting when she arrived and told her friends she was meeting someone. She hid telling them of the irresponsible manner unto which she was here. She thanked them and went and sat off in the corner.

She sat there for sometime drinking Jack and Coke. The bartender kept setting her up with a great pour and she was beginning feeling it. She soon became irritated looking at her watch.

"Where was this guy? What was he doing? Was he coming or was he making a fool of her?" When she finally decided she would leave in disgust, someone in a black leather trench coat walked through the door and went to the bar. She could not make out his face but could clearly see the black leather pants and black leather boots. "Was this him?"

She could see the bartender pour him a Jack and coke and it kind of made her blood run cold. She could feel his presence and knew it was him. She decided to wait in the corner for him to approach her.

He sat at the bar for another five or maybe ten minutes and she again became irritated. "What is this guy doing? Who the fuck does he think he is making me wait like this?" I have almost been here for two hours. After his second drink was placed in front of him he turned and walked toward her table. She scolded herself for sitting in the corner because with the direction of light she had a hard time making out his features other than a "goat t."

When he arrived at the table his features became more apparent. She could see he was very dominant looking with dark hair and dark eyes.

He was dressed in all black and stood with great confidence that was written all over him. He was somehow attractive but a larger built man of normal height, maybe five feet and ten inches tall.

He had leather wrist bands on and when he spoke his voice was deep and calculating. "Sara" he said. She was about to speak and he said, "Come with me," and turned to walk away.

She was about to yell to him to stop, she wanted to talk first, but she could see her friends around the bar and tables and felt to uncomfortable to do so and she stood and followed.

Instead of exiting the front of the bar, he walked out the back door that was never really used and this startled her but she was a little intoxicated, somehow flustered and followed foolishly.

"Where were they driving?" The black limo was intriguing but the ride was over twenty minutes and she could not see well out of the windows. Dark Soul sat across from her in the deep side of the limo in silence. She decided to speak, if not out of fear, out of silence. "Hello" she said.

He still sat in silence. She asked him why he would not speak to her and he still remained in silence. His presence was so strong she was intimidated. She could feel the limo turn and the road became rough as if it were dirt and she asked him where they were going and he smiled a sinister smile and still sat in silence. She said she would get out if he did not speak to her and he broke with a short evil chuckle. Fear shivered through her body. She went to grab the door handle and the limo came to a stop.

She quickly opened the door and stepped out and noticed she was in the woods by a lake. The only lights to be seen were a small dim light on a dilapidated house she stood in front of. Running did not seem like an option at this point and nobody made any effort to stop her. It was dark and any direction she chose would probably not help, she hated the woods. It wasn't the darkness but the things in it. She turned to the house and studied it. It was a single story ranch. The siding was loose in many spots and it could not have been painted in years. Most of the windows were non-existent or broken. The front door was closed and the porch was caved in many spots. The porch over the roof looked like it was falling in at the end and the shingles were curled. The chimney was in dire need of pointing and moss grew around in scattered areas. There was no lawn of manicured yard and the path to the house was not beaten. When the head lights to the car were shut off the house grew dark and she turned to Dark Soul and asked, "Where the hell are we?"

He said in his low calm raspy voice, welcome to my dungeon.

"Oh no," she exclaimed, "I did not agree to this." She lied to him and said, "I am not submissive to men!"

He smiled at her and continued to the house. She followed behind him bantering unheard words of denial and disgust, but somehow deep down she was excited.

This setting was one out of a horror scene, something extreme enough to arouse her interest. The problem was, there was no trust and she hated that. He began to climb the entrance stairs and nobody followed from the limo.

"Who was the driver and why did she come?" Again she was lying but to herself this time. She knew down deep why she was here. She had never been made to wait for someone before and she waited for him. She had never looked for a man's response, and she waited for his. She had never been disappointed from absence of a man and she was to his. Somehow he had a grasp on her soul and somehow she knew she would submit.

As she arrived at the top of the stairs and proceeded toward the door he stopped her with his hand. She looked into his eyes for the first time and they were hard.

He said, "Remove your clothes or you do not enter my lair."

She looked at him with disgust. "Who the fuck do you think you are?" She said. "Do you know who I am?"

He backhanded her in the face and told her "I know exactly who you are, you are my Sara and you will remove your dominant clothes." He reached over and tore her shirt open and handed her a rag to wipe the blood from her lip.

She stood in shock, bleeding from the lip and her right breast hanging out. She had met her match alright; she was scared to leave and scared not to listen.

"Now remove your clothes," he said and walked inside.

She touched her lip and looked at the blood on her fingers from his strike. Although she was shocked the blood turned her on, her endorphins were excited and wanted to see more of what he had to offer. Her face was flush and she could feel her pussy a little damp. The rush of being slapped and the potential of being dominated scared her but fear she thrived on. Never had the right guy got her attention and this one had her.

As her hands shook she removed her shirt. "Was she really doing this, submitting for the rush?" She had a hard time actuating the buttons on her shirt from her fear but she took it off even though it was partially remove to begin with. She removed her boots one buckle at a time again fighting with them; she was shaking and was enjoying it. When her feet were free she was not so tall, only 5'-6". As she pulled her last boot free she saw a blood droplet hit her boot.

Her lip was split pretty deep. She would say she would make him pay for this but she knew he was the dominant here and plus, she enjoyed it. She then unbuttoned her leather pants and pulled them off of her legs revealing her underwear. Not planning on showing them tonight they were flimsy cotton string type, not at all that pretty but somewhat revealing. She stood there in her panties in the woods under this dimly lit lamp and knew she was helpless and loved the feeling when nobody was present.

Her clothes were in a pile on the floor and the limo parked maybe 50' away with her heart beating out of her chest. She could feel the pulse in her neck and her face must have been beat red with her lip bulging. She felt her crotch to see if you could see any wetness before she went into the house and it seemed okay and shit she needed a good fuck to take advantage of this rise.

She stepped through the doorway and looked around. She was standing in what seemed like an entryway hall with an old decayed living room to the right and a dining room to the left. The ceilings were gone in the living room with insulation hanging down and the ceiling was hanging in many areas of the dining room, a slight beam of light from the porch lamp shown through the windows lighting each room but not enough to see detail. The entry way made way to a hallway into what maybe was the kitchen.

Bear foot she walked down the hall cautiously toward the far room watching each step to avoid injury. She kept touching her swollen lip to see if she was still bleeding. As she poked her head through the kitchen door Dark Soul grabbed her hair and slammed her against the wall knocking the air out of her. She sat and grasped for breath for a minute and he got in her face, close enough to taste his breath.

He said, "I gave you very simple directions, if you cannot follow simple directions you will be beaten within an inch of your life!" He then tore her cotton underwear from her hips leaving burn marks beside her pussy but it felt good.

She looked at him in shear anger as if she was going to bite his face but he smiled at her and said, "What do you think your angry little face can do to me? You don't weigh enough to move my hand my Sara. You are no Domme here. You best learn to listen or your beatings will commence and those you will not forget. For many years you have asked the gods to give you a dominant and now you have met him. Kneel to me and kiss my boot," and he grabbed her hair and forced her face to the floor and she kissed it willingly, no man has ever achieved this willingness.

Her nipples were so hard and no longer did she worry about wetting her underwear. Although she did want to run from primal fear, she knew he was right and she would stay right here. She would stay here and she would obey him. Not because she had too, but she really wanted to. He was a gift; was it from god; she did not know; would she get out alive; maybe. He grabbed her hair and lifted her by it and she let out a little scream as she rose to her feet.

He said, "Resistance is futile, I am a sadist and no one here can hear you scream and screaming excites me. This will not be the only scream you scream tonight. I want you to say my name!"

"Dark Soul," she whispered with her head down.

He pointed to a stairwell to the basement and told her to move and she did. This time she moved quickly and without hesitation with a twisted expectation of pain.

Her hair was partially ripped out and her lip was bleeding and she had not even gotten to the dungeon. Her training had started she knew, but she was not even there. He followed her slowly as she advanced away from him not liking that he was behind her. She was not used to the lack of trust. So many times she had preached trust and she had none in him. This was extreme, very extreme.

When she got to the bottom of the stairs the room was actually lit quite well. Candles burnt in candelabras from the ceiling in three areas. She did not expect this basement to be so deep. The ceilings were well over eight feet and ropes, hooks and various bondage tools hung from the walls. Eye hooks were in the beams in the ceilings. There was a large rough wooden table in the center of the room and all sorts of weird racks and incline tables scattered about. What caught her eye quickly was the cross on the corner. She was expecting that to be her first exercise.

She turned and watched him advance down the stairs. He had removed his shirt and he was wearing black leather pants and boots, a chest harness and a large what looked like a weight belt and two wrist bands. No tattoos or nothing dressed his body, just the leather. He had this look of excitement on his face, too much satisfaction that it scared her.

She knew she would be injured tonight, but how badly she did not know. She did know that she wanted to be injured and she also did not know how bad she wanted the damage to be. This was new to her also but her twisted mind liked the fact that she was bleeding and bleeding well. Unfortunately it would be visible and she would need to hide for a week until the evidence was gone.

When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he picked up two chairs next to the wall and placed them on either side of the table and motioned for her to sit and she did quietly. He put two glasses down from an old wooden cupboard and poured Jack Daniels straight into the glasses, picked one up and handed it to her and picked the other up and drank from it. She could tell that he was feeding off of her fear although it was residing a little.