Ascent to Submission in Helsinki Ch. 01

A certain Saturday, a house in Helsinki's suburbs

"...so that's your answer, slut...maybe the best punishment is not punishing you at all..."

The riding crop roams slowly over your hard nipples, you tremble in excitement.

You hope I am just joking, you need to be freed of your need to be acknowledged as the pain-loving woman you are.

I stand and open a large drawer in the TV cabinet. You can see canes and whips stored there.

I take a few canes: some are short, some are long, some are thick and sturdy, some are thin. Finally, I choose one, not too long, not too short, not too thick, not too thin: just right. I bent with my hands, it's deliciously flexible, you are already imagining it hitting your ass and marking it.

"Turn and hold your ankles."

You obey, and now your ass is offered to me, defenseless, a round pinnacle at the top of your long legs.

"Count and thank me!"

The cane falls on your buttocks.

"One! Thank you, Sir!"

It hits again.

"Two! Thank you, Sir!"

Now it's time for a quick succession.

"Three! Thank...Four! Thank you...Five! Six! Seven! Aaah! Eight!Thank you, Sir!"

Counting made you forget the burning feeling on your ass, but then pain overtook, and now counting has become hard, as you just try to guess where I will hit next.

Sometimes I slow down as if I am aiming to a specific spot, sometimes I accelerate - you suspect and are happy at the idea that the vision of your battered ass is exciting me; in this moment, you try to endure at your best, to keep my momentum going.

However, at a certain point, you drop on the floor, exhausted and sweating.

"Sorry, Sir..."

"This is where I wanted to take you - I say, smiling -now go on your fours, and crawl around my chair."

"Yes Sir!"

With a certain effort, you rise, and start moving around my chair.

With the riding crop, I hit your ass and you look at me, startled.

"Your knees! Up and straight!"

"Yes...Sir..."

You continue circling my chair.

I have taken a book and I start reading it. From my tracking pants I have extracted my cock, and you look at it every time you arrive in front of me in your circles.

The cock sometimes is harder, and sometimes gets softer. You slow down, curious, you would like to feel it with your lips, or just brushing it with your cheeks...then I hit your ass with the riding crop, and you move quicker.

Sometimes it's me who touches it, strokes it ...you wonder what I am reading..is it an erotic book? if yes, which book? you wish you could read it too...even more, you wish that it was the sight of you that makes me excited.

Maybe half an hour has passed. You continue circling around me, on your fours, and I continue reading my book. This is starting to be tiring, and from time to time you slow down, hoping I won't notice. But I always notice, and you end up being hit again, sometimes repeatedly.

Finally, you summon your courage and ask me:" May I suck your cock, Sir?"

"Didn't you suck it already?"

"Yes Sir, but...aaahhh..." the riding crop interrupts your words, and you continue your helpless crawling.

A couple of laps later, you try again.

"I haven't tasted your semen, Sir..."

"Are you thirsty?"

"Yes Sir..."

"Liar! - the riding crop lands again on your ass - you are just a cum-loving slut!"

"I am Sir! Let me taste your cum, Sir!"

As I take your chin with my hand, I look into your eyes.

"Why?"

"Because I am a cum-loving slut, Sir!"

"Hahaha...come here" I take your rich, blonde hair so that your mouth can swallow the cock.

It's still contracted and soft, but quickly, as you move your tongue on it, you can feel it growing inside. It's such a nice feeling...

When it is a hard pole deep in your throat, you start sucking at your best. My hands caress your broad, purple ass.

When the white sticky cream reaches your mouth, you look at me, like a schoolgirl who feels she has completed successfully her assignment and expects praise. You lick the cock devotedly and take your time, to be sure that nothing is left.

When you let the cock go you stay in front of me, your mouth open so that I can check that you drunk it all.

I pat your head, and stroke your hair.

"Good job!" you put your head on my thigh, while I continue reading.

You should feel happy, but still, you wonder if you have not deserved something more...your pussy is throbbing, desire grabs your lower body, you feel your juices are overflowing and soon will spill.

One of my hands roams on your body, and you move slightly so that the fingers get closer to your vulva.

Finally, you succeed in your purpose, and one of them just penetrates your unfolding lower lips.

You wish it could move deeper but it stays at the entrance, without moving.

You thrust your hips to search for the friction - slowly- you are afraid that I will catch your movements, and I will retract my finger.

It's just a small movement, no more than a teasing, soon it becomes frustrating, it's like having a little starter when you are hungry.

You move a little more. Now the finger is inside you; it slides inside you, back and forth.

You wish that there could be more friction - you are so wet - that the fingers could be two or maybe ..or that they could be my cock.

Still, the pleasure is mounting, maybe too slowly, but mounting. You moan softly and I raise my head from the book.

You freeze, like a guilty little kid. My finger is still inside you, but you have stopped moving, you hope I won't notice you were masturbating on it.

For a moment the finger stays there. I start reading again. You wait for another moment, already thinking about continuing the slow movement of your hips.

You are ready to start when I slip off the finger and I pat your ass.

"Time to go!" I say, and I help you to pull up.

Frustrated, you wear your clothes back and leave.

The panties are still on the floor. When you are on the metro, thinking about what you did wrong and which scenario could have led to satisfying your lust, you realize in shock that I didn't invite you back.

The following Wednesday

The call from the ground floor has surprised you.

"There's a gentleman waiting for you," the receptionist says, but she has nothing more to add.

You rush down from your office. You are not sure it's me, I haven't announced this visit, but you allow yourself a crazy hope.

Luckily you are right: you don't know how you could have dealt with the disappointment.

"Good afternoon, Sir!" you greet me happily.

"Good afternoon, E*.." I reply, raising my eyes from the book, smiling.

"Do you have half an hour?"

"Of course Sir, let me call the office!" Work can wait, isn't it?

"Let's go to have a coffee."

We cross the street, enter a Starbucks, and after getting our orders we go on the second floor and sit on a pair of sofa chairs, one in front of the other.

"Why your legs are crossed? Don't you know how to sit? Didn't I teach you before?"

"Sorry, Sir...it is that..." It is that you are afraid that I will see that you have no panties on - however, you untie your legs, and the hem of the skirt slides dangerously high.

"Usually you don't wear panties at work or today is a special way?" I ask, smiling.

"It's not what you think!" you reply indignant, looking around, worried that someone might notice.

"I am just seeing, I am not thinking," I reply.

"I...was excited at the idea of seeing you, so I went to the toilet room and I took them off to surprise you" you admit, blushing.

"Were you so sure it was me? Weren't you expecting someone else to whom you wanted to show your pussy?"

"No Sir..."

"You are lying..."

There are a couple of other men to whom you wouldn't mind showing your vulva, but you don't want to admit it.

"Let's leave it there, pretty liar...did you think I would enjoy your surprise? Why should I care?"

"Well, Sir...I thought you would appreciate...my ...willingness..."

"Your willingness to be treated like a slut, isn't it?"

"I guess so..."

"Do you want to be fucked then?"

That confession seems too hard to you in this setting: friends are chatting, others are working alone, with a cup of coffee in their hands - you are used to thinking of sex as something private, not something to be discussed in public.

Looking at you sternly, I repeat my question.

"DO YOU WANT TO BE FUCKED?"

You realize how silly is to think of an answer. This morning you were tortured by the idea that I won't meet you anymore and masturbated at the memory of our meetings, and now you are given the chance to realize your desire. There is only one answer, and this comes from the whole of your body.

"Please fuck me Sir!" you reply, almost shouting looking intensely into my eyes.

"Do you have a phone charger?" I ask you suddenly, out of the blue.

What is this? You think looking at me in shock. Did I hear what you said? You are growing impatient. While these thoughts shake your head, you look in your bag and find your iPhone charger.

"Very well then...let's go to the male toilet."

"It's ...not...possible," you try to object.

"Nonsense...there's nobody there...don't you want to get fucked?"

"Yes Sir, but..."

"Then let's not lose time...unless you changed your mind."

"No Sir! I'll come!" Your mind races fast, trying to understand all the possible risks, you can't really guess what I am thinking, who could be on the toilet, maybe even people you know, or even worse, people who work with you who barely know you.

But you are here to obey, without questioning or thinking, your submissiveness being tested.

So you follow me, meekly.

Luckily the area is a bit secluded, and there is nobody inside.

"Go in there!" I order, showing you an empty cubicle.

I am behind you, you can feel my body pressing gently against yours; pushing your ass toward me, you search for this contact.

"Open your mouth!" As you do it, you feel a ball pushed into it, and then I proceed to secure it with leather traps around your head.

"We don't want people to hear you when you scream, isn't it?"

You nod and wonder, will be screams of pleasure or pain?

It doesn't take long for you to answer.

"Take off your skirt," you unhook it, lower the zip, and the tight skirt falls on your feet.

"Put the hands to the wall, push your ass toward me."

Now my hand caresses your round, white buttocks. You gyrate them slowly and sensually, aroused.

The first blow arrives suddenly, and the passage from pleasure to pain is immediate; so immediate that you can't say when pleasure ended and pain started.

You turn your head slightly and see that I am hitting you with the UBS chord of your charger.

"A whipping tool is never too far," I say, smiling, and whipping you once more.

A moan is muffled through the ball gag, and you bite your lower lip.

I hit once more, and then more times.

"Your ass is so beautiful now!" I say, after fifteen minutes of methodical whipping.

Your lips curve in a smile while a teardrop glides from your eyes to your cheek. " "You'll see later...do you still want to be fucked?"

Of course, you want to be fucked, and as you can't talk, you nod vigorously with your head.

"Well then..."

Now my condom-coated cock penetrates from the rear your pussy. The nether lips are swollen by the blood that rushed to them, caused by your excitement.

As I move you are grateful that you are muted because your cries would be unstoppable otherwise.

It's so good to feel the cock inside you, ramming deeply, at every thrust penetrating a little further, so much that you feel all your body is just a sheath for my penis.

Behind the flimsy door you can hear somebody moving in the toilet room, peeing, washing hands, and leaving: can they hear what's happening? You don't care.

Your climax comes, after the quick but steady build-up, it explodes while I am still moving into you. So the orgasm slowly ends, until my stimulation is almost unbearable, but then a new build-up comes, and you cum another time. It is my time now to cum, and through the thin fabric of the condom you can feel my warmth filling you.

I let my orgasm flow slowly into you until it dries up.

Then I untie the ball gag, and I make you kneel in front of me.

With your mouth you unwrap the condom, and show it to me, resting on your tongue.

I take it from there and throw it in the dustbin. Now you clean devotedly my cock with your tongue, and when you have finished, you look at me searching for a sign of approval.

"Good job!- I say, patting your head - let's go!"

"Yes, Sir!"

We leave the cubicle, but before we exit the toilet room I ask you to raise your skirt again so that you can look at your whipped ass in the large wall mirrors.

You are fascinated: these are not the purple marks or the bloodstains you received before, but your buttocks are covered by a grid of swollen lines, such as the scars you have seen in pictures of girls submitted to tribal rites in Africa. I pass a finger of some of them, as we acknowledge their beauty.

"Thank you, Sir!"

"You're welcome, E*...let's meet again on Saturday...I think it will rain, so wear a trench-coat."

"Yes, Sir!"

We return to the coffee shop and then you return to your office.

For the first time in the week, you are really at peace with yourself and can concentrate on your job.

Saturday afternoon

You ring the bell of my apartment.

As I ordered, you wear a beige trench-coat which arrives just above the knees; under the coat, your body tingles with excitement.

A thick belt is tied around your waist, enhancing the hour-glass shape of your body.

After a while, I open the door.

"Good Afternoon Sir!" you look at me with your hazelnut, pleading eyes.

"Come in," I say.

You step in, and I add: "Unbutton the coat."

You have been waiting for this moment: in the last days, you have thought continuously about what to wear below the trench-coat.

There were obvious choices: simply a blouse and a skirt - or you could surprise me, and be naked under it.

Maybe this wasn't even going to be a surprise, but just my expectation.

By saying "Wearing a trench-coat, " I had actually meant: "Wear a trench-coat and be naked below it".

To tell the truth, this is was your first thought; this is what a slut like you thinks straight away.

But this was not satisfying, it seemed lacking in imagination, almost sloppy.

This is how you came to choose what you wear now: semi-transparent half-thigh stockings with a garter belt, and a black sheer corset, that sustains your breasts but ends just before your nipples, leaving them exposed. On the way, the rough fabric of the coat brushed against them, making them excited, raw and painful.

My hand reaches for them, and I squeeze one between two fingers.

"Aaah!"

"I like your imagination, slut E*..." I say, smiling.

The other hand reaches your crotch and penetrates unceremoniously your exposed lower lips. You love the sudden, rough friction of my finger inside your pussy, which unfolds under the pressure, wet with your dew.

"Turn."

I leave my grip for a moment, just the time for you to offer me your back, and then I return inside you.

"Ahah...ahahhh"

You would have liked to resist longer, but you can't help yourself.

"May I...ahahah...cum Sir?"

I don't say anything, but I continue finger-fucking you.

"Ahahhh...please let your slut E* cum Sir!"

"Isn't a slut a woman that is a public property, and any man can use?"

"Yes Sir!...ahhhahhh..."

"So how can you be "my" slut?"

"Yes Sir! ahah...please don't stop! Let this slut cum!"

My fingers continue mercilessly, but at the same time I continue talking, and even if you would like to just focus on the mounting orgasm, you feel obliged to reply, afraid that I would stop if you don't humor me.

"So...how is it that I am making you cum? Shouldn't a slut serve a man, not the other way around?"

The coat is heavy on your body now, you hope it could drop to your feet.

"Sorry Sir...ahahah...I'll suck your cock later...please...you won't regret your kindness...ahahhh..."

"Should I wait for my pleasure then?"

As if I have read your mind, I help you to slip the coat's sleeves from the arms, and now it falls on the floor, leaving your back and ass exposes.

I caress your ass. The creases created by the USB chord are still there, rubber lines across your buttocks.

I start spanking you. Your ass doesn't escape my blows, you push it toward me, offering it to me.

"Thank you, Sir! Aahah...please spank me! This slut deserves to be punished...for her horniness...please Sir! hit harder! "

My palm leaves a red five-fingered print on your white ass, and then other blows come, and the print fades in between the new additional red marks.

"Ahahhhh...sorry Sir...the slut...the slut is cumming...ahahah...sorry I couldn't wait for your permission..."

My fingers continue, while I remain silent, until you drop on the floor, shaking, unable to control your pleasure.

"Sorry, Sir! Sorry! I am just a lustful whore!" you cry, while the orgasm shakes your body.

You are still trembling, folded on the floor when you feel the cold touch of metal on your neck and a click: your hand reaches for it, and you realize that you are wearing a steel collar.

A long chain is attached to it, and when I pull it, you have no other choice but to follow me, on your fours.

The panties are still there, in the corner. Every time you wonder if anybody else enters the room, and how I describe their presence.

This makes you blush, even if there is no way to connect you to them in the eyes of a stranger.

I sit in my usual chair, and then I pull the leash, so that you come into my lap, your bare buttocks on top. You are in the position of a little kid waiting to be punished.

My hand roams freely on your flesh, feels its rich consistency, explores it looking for the tenderest areas.

Caressing your body, I feel you are looking for more, a true bitch in heat.

In reality, your beautiful ass has excited me too, I am looking forward to using it.

Things need to be done properly though.

I make you rise, pulling the leash, and I take you to a corner in the room. There's a heater there, and winding the leash around the pipe that connects it to the floor, I can keep you lying on the floor. I use steel handcuffs to tie your arms behind your back.

You look at me, from this position, helpless, unsure of what is going to happen.

I leave for a moment, and I return pushing one of those sticks on wheels that are used in hospitals. A bag, full of a watery solution is hanging from a hook, and a long, rubber hose is hanging.

"What is it Sir?" you asked, alarmed.

"Can't you guess, horny slut?"

I come closer, and I turn you so that I have easy access to your anus. You try to resist but restrained as you are, any movement is painful and useless.

"Please!" you whisper, but of course I don't care of your objection, and with a swift movement I insert an end of the hose in your asshole. Soon after you feel the liquid flowing inside you, steadily. You try to shake the hose off, but there is little you can do.

"If you spill any water, you'll lick it from the floor!" I threaten you, and this is enough for you to calm down.

I go back to the chair, I turn on the TV, and I start watching an old, black and white Japanese movie.

You find it boring, and what is worse, it can't distract you from the sensation of your belly being filled by the water.

"Please, sir!" you plead, softly. I stop the movie, I come next to you and using a patterned piece of cloth I gag your mouth.

"Mmmmph!" A muffled sound is all that comes out of it now.

I continue watching my movie, only stopping when the solution bag is empty.

I quickly substitute it with another one. This operation is repeated two, three times until you feel bloated and stuffed. Cramps shake your body. You would like to beg me to stop, but the only sounds you can emit are those meaningless moans. Small droplets of sweat start covering your forehead.