Cultivating a New Slut Ch. 01

I've been writing this erotica for years now and have only dabbled at finishing it. There are 4 chapters so far, which I'll post one at a time.

Trigger warnings: consensual non-consent, verbal humiliation, non-conforming gender norms.

She left the bar feeling slightly tipsy. Knowing full well that she shouldn't drive, she acknowledged at the same time how her unflagging sense of independence could get her into trouble in situations such as these. It had been a long week and as usual on Friday she had headed out to wind down. She hadn't eaten anything since breakfast and the drinks were hitting her hard. Sitting in her upscale European sports car, her head awash with images of unsettling things and her body slow to react to the instructions she gave it, she lingered in a half-erotic haze. Hoping the fresh air would sober her; she pressed the button for the windows and let the cool, sea breeze filter in, assaulting her senses.

He leaned in and inquired as to her well-being. His sweet and genuine concern made her heart flutter and her panties wet. They had been setting next to her at the bar. He, tall and handsome, almost a "Sean Connery debonair" in his velvet baritone, She, unusual to say the least, eyes tempting and seductive as they perpetually lingered on the cleft of her sumptuous breasts exposed by the dipping neckline of the alluring silk blouse clinging to her sweat-soaked body. Being a young, single, powerful woman, she knew she had a certain sensual flair with most any man she set her sights on but wasn't used to a woman starring at her in such an alluringly seductive and sexual manner. She had gone into the bar tonight hoping to pick up some hot, young stud to fuck her silly, but after chatting with these two over the past few hours, her imagination seemed to be miles away from where she'd set out originally.

"Do you think you should drive?" He asked in that charming, deep voice she'd been so mesmerized by when he spoke to her earlier. Then she'd had all her wits about her. "We'd be happy to give you a ride home." And he gestured to the sleek black sedan gently idling across the lot; his partner smiling at them knowingly.

"That might be all right," she said, though whether convincing herself or answering him she wasn't sure. He opened her car door and slid his arm around her waist as she practically melted off the butter-soft leather and into a dream that lulled her into an arousing sense of anticipation.

***

She awoke groggy, her head a myriad of swimming feelings and images. Shockingly her hands were bound; testing them with a twist one way and then the other she realized each limb was secured tightly with multiple silk scarves. Had she willingly been a participant in this adventure? She just couldn't remember. As she became more and more aware of her surroundings, she finally recognized the statuesque silver fox from her earlier encounter at the local wine bar, where she hung out all too frequently, but there was something about his whole aura that had changed. Not only was he was tied securely to a device that reminded her of a life size version of the letter "X," his whole demeanor seemed to have become that of something extremely feminine. Things on the walls behind him presented themselves to her foggy brain in such a way that she only somewhat recognized them; leather, chain, steel, all intricately fashioned as if in a dungeon, but still in his face she could see only peace, not fear or malice.

Putting aside the questions whirling in her half-conscious brain about the androgyny of her new friend, she slowly became aware of her own physical predicament. The apparatus she was secured to spread her legs wide open in a vulgar display of her female anatomy. The last thing she remembered before waking up in this position was genial exchanges in the back of their car as they were getting off the highway at her exit, but soon after that her memory faltered and became fuzzy and full of turmoil. It was clear however that she was indeed bound, naked and in the middle of some perverted dream or a fantasy in the making, depending on your perspective.

She opened her mouth to speak to the gentleman across the room but soon found that words were not possible as a small rubber ball has been secured into her mouth and no matter how much she moved her jaw and tongue it wouldn't budge. Suddenly there was a calm voice from across the room, "it's easier if you simply sit still and submit...you could make yourself gag if you keep trying to dislodge it." Looking toward the voice she now saw clearly that he was adorned in lingerie, make-up and heels, which again made her a bit confused about what was happening.

"My Precious Goddess will be here shortly. Please, you shouldn't worry; no harm will come to you."

She wanted to shout and say that how could she not worry when it seemed she had been kidnapped and was now about to be sexually assaulted, but again, the words only dribbled out in displaced consonants and vowels like alphabet soup slipping from her pouty, pink lips.

It was chilly inside and her nipples were puckered and hard. Drool was now dripping from the corners of her mouth and wetting the steely endpoints of her breasts intermittently, causing the air to make them even more erect. Even though she was scared, there was something very arousing about all of this. She'd had secret dreams and rape fantasies ever since she was a provocative teen and now, here she was on the precipice of a full-fledged encounter with people she didn't know but seemed to read her clandestine thoughts like an open book.

She heard the clicking of high heels on the wooden flooring and looked up to see the demure woman from the bar dressed to the nines in an intricate lace woven black corset on top of a red silk blouse with beautifully tailored slacks. 3-inch platform heels adorned her small feet and a riding crop in her hand swished with each step she took. This woman may have been short in stature, but she was in no way insignificant. Shivers ran across her skin, causing goose bumps to erupt all over her and surprisingly, she felt the soft lips of her young, ripe pussy begin to moisten.

Speaking in a tone that belied her size, the woman announced that "Play time will now commence," and as if by magic a bevy of lights flipped on to illuminate her in her captivity as if she was suddenly the center of the night's entertainment. The lady in charge inspected her from a few feet away, circling her and appraising her naked form, much as she had in the café that evening, stopping to linger near her right side. She bent down so that her mouth rested mere millimeters from her ear and spoke through the long, flowing, black tresses that she'd spent so much time caressing with her brush before leaving for a certain tryst this afternoon. Little did she know that tryst would turn into something far more meaningful and lasting than she could have ever hoped for?

The words she heard made a huge impact on her. "You can struggle, you can cry, you can even ask to be released and you will be OR you can see where I can take you on this journey. If after the first hour you no longer wish to be here, I will let you go, but I can almost predict with regular certainty who will go and who will stay. I've been watching you; you see. I know you've been using your beauty, charm and power to your advantage with men in your every day life and yet in the wee hours of the night, you log onto a secret website to play head games with strangers and perverts who would hurt you immeasurably if they could get their hands on you. Something inside of you craves to be used and controlled and I'm going to exploit that and see how far I can take you, though not with force and violence as they might, but with care, skill and loving tenderness."

She watched helplessly as the woman she had been unsettled by in the bar earlier approached a long bench that ran the length of the room. On top of it were implements she didn't recognize. Minutes ticked by and there was no sound, save her own breathing. How could they know about her secret persona? She had covered her tracks well, she thought. However, something had given her away and now every secret passion she had ever dreamed of was about to play out, albeit with a woman in charge of her deflowering into this kind of kink and not a man as she had always envisioned.

The Mistress turned and approached her, surgical gloved hands holding a large object she just couldn't understand as well as a bottle of lubricant. She knelt in front of the prone girl and flicked her tongue out over the swollen labia and clitoris of her captive, causing a spasm in her voluptuous thighs and a moan to issue from her overflowing mouth. Her captor stood and held up the device for the girl to see as she spread the slippery liquid over metal prongs in the shape of a pear.

"This is called the 'pear of anguish,' they were used in the 15th century to torture women suspected of witchcraft. I use them to humiliate and tantalize my submissives and slaves and take them to a place of pure debauchery. I won't turn the screw all the way this time, I'll only use it as a gynecologist might use a speculum to examine you, but know this... if you stay with me, eventually your cunt will be stretched to a place where I can easily put both of my hands inside of you and fuck you until you lose all control of your body and spirit in something my precious slaves know as euphoric subspace. That's the point where I will own you completely." A moan of anticipation echoed off the walls from across the room as only one who fully knew and understood her power could understand.

She was so aroused now that a stream of female lubrication dripped from her exposed vagina, giving away any sign that she might still wish to escape her certain fate on this fortuitous night. The metal was cool to the touch as it slid inside of her still tight pussy walls and there was no mistaking her arousal. Her body reacted as if she was being fucked seductively and romantically instead of taken against her will. The pear was now being opened slightly and there was nothing that she could do about it. She had always been proud of being able to stay nice and tight, but now there was nothing more she wanted than to be opened wide and used thoroughly.

A few turns of the screw and she was feeling very exposed and open. Her natural lubrication puddled around her anus and dripped onto the mat under the bondage chair where she was secured. The woman who was taking charge of her body moved back to the long bench and came back with something that resembled a hand-held vibrator, but also looked as if it could be a kitchen utensil as well. Her body was betraying her and as much as she wanted to fight, when the buzz of this new piece of sexual paraphernalia reverberated around the room, she closed her eyes and awaited the impending sensation with unexpected glee. The woman placed the head of the buzzing tool on the very tip of her clitoris and her body went completely limp in submission.

It hadn't taken an hour or even half that to make her feel as if she was at the mercy of this short, round bundle of dynamite. The last tool she used on her brought her to the brink of orgasm in a millisecond and just as she was about to release; the implement was quickly taken away. This continued in rapid succession for a period of what seemed like hours, but in reality, was no less than fifteen minutes. New toys and gadgets, both electric and prone, were used over the next 40 minutes and as the hour wound to a close the restraints were released, the gag taken out and this new woman in her life pulled her into a heap onto her lap, cradling her as if she were still a swaddled child. Stroking her hair and shoulders, humming quietly, she slid into a trance-like bliss that she'd never even imagined, yet known.

As she opened her eyes and gazed around the room things were still strange and unknown, but she knew almost instinctively that she would belong to them as long as they would have her.