Embracing Surrender

"Okay, P--I think I'll call you P from now on. It's rather fitting; you know, kinda like O." Then, he abruptly sent her home--wobbly knees and all. "I'll see you Thursday. I guess I don't need to remind you to have your nipple clamps properly secured." Pauline had already been given permission, sometime earlier, to remove her nipple clamps once she got home, but, curiously--curious even to herself--she often didn't do so until bedtime.

Arriving, as she did, that next Thursday--light summer-clothes, sans underwear--Maurice guided her to one of the pair of chairs clustered, facing one another in the middle of the living-room. Joining her in the other seat, Maurice leaned forward, his elbows on his thighs, and began the lesson. "Well, P, I'm pleased with your progress, thus far. Today I'm going to give you some seemingly mundane instructions. I want you to listen carefully; but while you're listening, I'd like you to masturbate--energetically and persistently--get yourself to the keen edge, but don't cum until I'm finished my piece, and I give you leave." Pauline said nothing, managing to curb her surprise, and promptly moved her hands unhurriedly--one to her breasts, one to her snatch. "That's it," Maurice smiled. "I'll just wait 'til your arousal is well underway." Soon, as Pauline's breath became slightly laboured, and her hand movement beneath her clothes, slightly more frenetic, Maurice began.

"You need to break it off with Martin. His presence is..." And he went on at length about interference, and restriction of potential development. "Obfuscate. Don't give him any details. Don't mention me, except," and, here he chuckled, as if he found the idea rather clever, "maybe to say you don't like me, and never have. I give you the creeps, or something like that."

She felt somewhat torn, after all she was, or had been--although, this effectively put an end to that--engaged to Martin. Nonetheless, she willingly agreed she would fulfil Maurice's directive as soon as possible. As she approached her crisis--after all, he seemed to have finished--she slightly reduced the intensity of her manipulation, just to prolong her thrill. Maurice abruptly warned her about not cumming until given leave to. Then, paradoxically, he also reprimanded her for slowing down. Resuming the speed of her fingers, the intensity of her digital stimulation, Pauline's arousal flared out of control. Finally, her futile resistance crumpled beneath the inexorable wave of sensation that crashed over her.

Maurice, at first, sat and watched and smiled, impressed by the immensity of the orgasm that left her twitching and shaking in the chair before him. As the quaking spasms slowly resolved into trembling, and her tortured breath, slowed to an exerted panting, Maurice, patted her knee and, with a quiet, "Tsk, tsk," in mild admonishment, said, "You are a naughty girl! Stand up... as soon as you're able, and step over here, beside me."

Rising unsteadily, as she tried to gather her thoughts, Pauline moved to the spot indicated. Maurice gently pulled her across his lap. "Hold on tight to the chair legs, and don't make a sound." Flipping up her skirt, he proceeded to soundly thrash her bottom with his bare hand. Although warned, poor Pauline, still recovering from her monster climax, was unable to remain quiet. She wailed and squirmed, crying and pleading. "Don't! Stop! Don't...!" until, finally, her buttocks glowing bright red, tears streaming from her eyes, and snot leaking from her nose, Maurice stopped.

"You'll need to learn more control," he said, matter-of-factly. "When I say don't cum, don't cum! When I say don't make a sound, don't make a sound!" Then lifting her to her albeit uncertain feet, he looked at her affectionately and said, "What do you say, now?"

She stared at him for a moment, puzzled, sniffling through gasping sobs. His smug grin gave her no clue, but, eventually, it dawned on her. "Thank you, master," she murmured, lowering her red eyes.

"You're welcome," and, standing abruptly, he said, simply, "See you Wednesday." He exited the room leaving her standing bare-assed and tingling.

Immediately, the very next day, Pauline steeled herself, and, contrary to her very nature, coldly and unfeelingly, she informed Martin she was breaking up with him. "You seem to think more of your creepy friend, Maurice, who is always hanging around, interfering, than you do of me. I've told you many times, I just don't like him." Martin sputtered, incoherently, about that not being so, but Pauline just went on. "Not that it's any of your business anymore, but I'm leaving you for someone else. And no," she lied, "it's not anyone you know." (For he really didn't, she rationalized.)

As days became weeks, and weeks months, Pauline's edification continued. Her growth and development progressed at, if not a leisurely pace, then a dreamy one. Having basically semi-weekly sessions--though a third, sometimes even a fourth tutorial in a given week was not uncommon--Pauline's forays into The Lifestyle took her deeper and deeper into the strange world of Dominance and Submission.

At another session, at another time, Pauline was left, again, to her own fingers. "Come in and sit down," Maurice directed. Once Pauline was settled and attentive, he went on. "Now, I want you to get yourself ready to climax. Not quite there but at the raw edge. Staying in your chair; fingers only. I'll be back in half an hour or so. Be ready. But, don't you dare cum before I give you permission--or there will be consequences." For whatever reason: the novel instructions; the anticipation; the dire warning; the unknown; Pauline's arousal was swift and steep, and, well before Maurice's expected return, she was wrestling with the super-stimulation of her fingers dancing between her legs. Getting perilously close, she had to bite the inside of her cheek to resist falling over into the orgasmic abyss.

At last, Maurice glided back into her field of vision, distracting her momentarily with the leather strap the carried respectfully in his hands. "Are you ready, P, or," he said, idly slapping his palm, "do I need to tan you hide?"

Quivering uncontrollably, her breath so very ragged, Pauline pleaded, "Please! Please...! I haven't cum yet. But if I don't...!"

"Good girl," he said soothingly while he pulled her hands from her crotch, and shifted her in her seat, so that he could bind her elbows together, behind her, with a canvas strap. Settling back into the chair, Pauline could no longer reach her pussy with her fingers. She discovered, however, right away, that her hands, were just able to cup her tits.

"There you are," Maurice concluded, with some satisfaction. "You need to keep yourself simmering now without touching your cunt. Staying in your seat. Don't move!" He stroked her briefly. "Keep yourself right on the edge using only your mind and your willpower. And be ready to cum, the moment I give the word. He gave her a chaste kiss on the cheek before leaving the room.

With no outward movement, Pauline grit her teeth and began to flex and clamp her ass and her groin--grasping at nothing with her genitalia. And she was pleased to find, as she rolled to a boil once again, that it wasn't nearly as hard as she had expected.

In another room, Maurice puttered a further fifteen or twenty minutes before raising her to her feet and pushing her next to the sofa. "And now," he announced, with a cynical edge to his voice, "today's finale!" He bent her at the waist, over the arm of the sofa. Fishing his own vibrating member out of his pants with one hand, while holding Pauline's torso down with the other he said, "Let's cum together." Swiftly and peremptorily, he slammed his manhood all the way into her dripping gash and proceeded to--as they say--fuck the shit out of her--violently from behind.

Pauline cried as she tried, unsuccessfully, to hold back. Fortunately, Maurice began to jolt and squirt after about the third stroke. Pauline screamed as she got there, her vagina clutching and squeezing its welcome intruder. Although her orgasm had actually begun at the very first touch of his cock to her labia, for all intents and purposes, their climaxes were simultaneous.

"That's the spirit," Maurice chuckled, giving Pauline's butt a sharp smack as he pulled his sagging, dripping cock out. "That's how to end the session." Quickly removing the elbow strap, he had her clean him off--with tissue for the time being--and sent her home, still panting and dripping.

Over the next many sessions, the always-busy weeks, Pauline found herself looking forward to her 'tutorials', not just with curiosity, but with an admittedly growing sense of adventure and delight in the submission required from her, the incidences of masochism required of her.

"You're just in time," Maurice said jovially, as he welcomed Pauline--P. "Christmas has come early! You can help unwrap our gifts." With that, he emptied, with a flourish, a couple of large, sturdy, black plastic bags, with 'Disciples' printed almost inconspicuously in one corner. Out of each bag tumbled a mixed collection of boxes--also black--also modestly identifying the shop as 'Disciples', with the contents of each box, labeled in small print, beneath. Pauline, looked on, questioningly, as Maurice selected one in particular. He opened the box and pulled out a matching pair of... something. He held them up and announced, almost triumphantly, "Cuffs! Wrist cuffs." Pauline looked on, bemused. The cuffs were broad, leather straps, with complicated buckles, plush-lined, with D-rings spaced about the outside. "Here," Maurice said, matter-of-factly, lifting Pauline's hands, "let's try them on." He explained the fine-adjustment feature as he fastened them to her proffered wrists.

Selecting another couple boxes, he pulled out, and proudly displayed, "Ankle cuffs--basically the same but a little larger," and, after fixing them onto Pauline, who remained a rather complacent subject, he pulled out a 'dog-collar' and matching leash. Maurice hummed to himself, as he carefully fitted the collar around Pauline's neck.

While Maurice sat back to admire his work, Pauline studied her new 'appliances'. They were, surprisingly comfortable, she decided. With a self-satisfied grin, Maurice advised, "You might as well get undressed. We're gonna need you to be naked, here-on-in." Next, he pulled out a waist-belt affair--also plush-lined, with a fine-adjust-buckle, also plentifully adorned with rings. It included a separate fore-an-aft crotch strap, which held, instead of D-rings, several mysterious, looked like mounting gizmos. "This'll be interesting," Maurice chortled, as he fastened both pieces in place. After that, he pulled out a complex piece of leather strapping which turned out to be a chest / bust-harness, cleverly separating and framing Pauline's boobs, once again, with surprising comfort.

One of the last boxes contained a large assortment of safety-clips and adjustable-length connector straps with ringed ends. Maurice spread them over the coffee table, to better appreciate the variety. Giving the contents of the very last box a good look, Maurice said, mainly to himself, "I think we'll give the head-harness a go-by for today."

Pauline watched--inquisitive--as Maurice pulled, from a previously unseen drawer in the coffee table, a large dildo, and another, smaller device. "Stand up and spread your legs for a moment," he ordered. "Let's see how this works." Fiddling with Pauline's crotch strap, he brusquely inserted the none-too-small dildo, into her ass, and fastened it there with one of the odd gizmos. Then he, likewise, attached the other device to the front of the strap; placing it right over Pauline's clitoris.

Selecting hooks and snaps from the table he clipped Pauline's wrists to the back of her neck, effectively putting her in a forced 'ready-position'. Finally, after taking a moment to turn on the vibrating phallus filling her rectum, and the trembling butterfly at her clit, Maurice instructed Pauline to crouch, whereupon he fixed her in position by fastening her ankles to her waist with double-ended safety-hooks, rendering her immobile.

Pauline's arousal had been building up throughout the whole process--the leather bondage-regalia try-on exploration process. At the very outset, she had felt an erotic tingling--starting out low, like a glowing ember, and increasing with the application of each new piece, as if someone were blowing on the coals. The insertion of the plastic phallus up her butt, followed by the buzzing at both her bottom and her clit, fed the growing flames, until, by the time of the last fastening--her ankles getting clipped to her waist--she was beside herself with sexual, sensual excitement--quaking and quivering, and trembling--ready to explode!

"And that," Maurice droned, as he stepped in front of her, pulling down his fly and fishing out his prick, thickening even as he spoke, "places you in the perfect position for fellatio--cocksucking to the uninitiated." That last bit of 'enlightenment' was, Pauline thought--though she would never have said so to his face--made with a rather unseemly smugness.

"I know what fellatio is!" Pauline protested silently, "I'm not that naïve!" Maurice didn't notice; he was just pleased that he was finally compelling Pauline to perform fellatio on him; although, from Pauline's perspective, she silent observed, "It's about bloody time!".

Bouncing his stiffening cock in her face, Maurice wiped the leaking pre-cum off across Pauline's mouth. Reaching down, he grabbed her bound breasts. Pinching and twisting her nipples mercilessly, he hoisted her breasts up on either side of his bobbing penis. Maurice laughed at Pauline's attempts to catch his dick with her mouth, but finally relented. Dropping her tits, he let her capture his swollen plum between her lips and suck him in deep. Pauline hadn't had a lot of experience sucking cock--Martin thought it demeaning--but, just doing what her elevated arousal dictated, without question, seemed about right. The sensation of that hot, pulsing spear of flesh stabbing into her face was enough to set lights a-flashing, alarm bells ringing. Collapsing her cheeks around Maurice's now rigid staff, she pushed herself so far onto his shaft, that he filled the back of her throat, momentarily sealing her airways. The grasping of his erection with her inner cheeks seemed to hyper-stimulate him, and as his spongy cock-head bumped the back of her throat, Pauline's own ignition sequence began in earnest.

As she twisted and licked in an attempted withdrawal, Maurice threaded his fingers through her hair, guiding her back, on and off his juddering hard-on. Teetering on the balls of her feet, unable to stand, Pauline's pre-orgasmic tremors and shakes finally over-balanced her. Heaving herself forward to keep from toppling back, Pauline accidentally, but effectively forced herself to deep-throat Maurice's erection, and, only a few fractured strokes later, he pulled her face tight over his tool, mashing her lips into his wiry pubes, and began ejaculating ferociously, sending spurt after spurt directly down her throat and into her gut. The intensity of the erotic energy discharging very nearly caused Pauline to black out. Hanging on to that very edge of consciousness for just a few short moments, without quite reaching orgasm almost drove her mad, but, in short order, Pauline's climax detonated, too. Caught up in the intensity of the situation, Pauline, sputtered slightly but barely even coughed as she experienced her first ever simultaneous climax during fellatio.

Withdrawing slowly, as he went soft, Maurice remarked, while Pauline cleared her throat and licked her lips, "You've either done this a few times before, or you're a natural prodigy!" Pauline just looked up at him, blinked and smiled.

Along the way, they further explored the agony/ecstasy boundary--such a fine line; indeed, a line becoming more and more blurred. They soon confirmed what Pauline had already concluded: that pain was just another sexual-sensual ingredient. So. of course, during those dog-days, Maurice contrived to provide Pauline, his pupil, with more opportunities to experience and become familiar with a wide variety of S & M accoutrements: not only the straps and harnesses, cuffs and clips and shackles of her more recent acquaintance, but, also, various insertions; gags; ropes and chains; whips and paddles and canes. Indeed, in an effort to become better acquainted with the feel and use of various paraphernalia, one particular session, Pauline had her hands bound together over her head, fastened to what was ostensibly a hanger for a swag lamp. On the balls of her feet, just barely able to touch her heels, she was eminently available for whipping and paddling.

An availability to which Maurice gladly availed himself. But first he reached down between her legs and drew his finger up, tracing a line lightly along her labia. Locking her gaze with his eyes, he stroked up again and again, drawing deeper into the blooming furrow of her pussy, as her natural lubrication gathered. Teasingly, he circled her clit at the top of each stroke, never actually touching it. Whimpering, Pauline writhed and twisted, pushing her hips forward, trying in vain to force contact with her now vibrating clitoris. Finally, Maurice relented and, spiraling his fingers inward, flicked and twirled her magic go-button. She gasped at the welcome touch, huffing as she felt the building of a monster climax. Then, Maurice abruptly stopped. With an evil grin, he mercilessly left her on the brink, and turned his attention to her backside.

The spanking began with an open hand on her bare butt. Striking with an easy cadence and a gradually growing intensity, Maurice casually suggested an interesting consideration. "Sound," he said, "is an integral part of this whole experience." He spoke with authority--as if this were, indeed, the gospel truth. "The stifled cries of the recipient add colour and flavour to the event, but it is the sharp crack of a good smack that really focuses the whole sensation. With the classic open-handed spanking, however, it is rather difficult to maintain a consistently clear clap."

"Is that all you've got?" Pauline caught herself thinking smugly. "I can handle that--no sweat." She almost said it out loud, but her better judgement prevailed.

Stopping abruptly, Maurice crossed in front of her to pause at an open chest, on a table by the wall. "Time to introduce," he announced, rather pompously, "some of the more common tools of corporal punishment. First, the paddle." He waving about a quilted leather-bound table-tennis-like bat. "While my hand-spanking has certainly begun to warm you up, this will really bring you up to temperature." Maurice resumed the spanking, this time with the padded paddle, concentrating on her buttocks. Pauline had no trouble remaining stoic. Her confidence, however, in bearing up, began to waver when he started to vary his targets to include her thighs and outstretched biceps. Pauline was shocked, suddenly, at how much it stung, and at how the stinging accrued, and at how, given no time to recover, it rapidly became more of a burning pain than a simple sting. She had to concentrate on holding on to her rapidly fading confidence.

After a while Maurice laid down the padded paddle and took up a new--what? ...weapon? ...tool? ...implement? ...whatever. He carefully selected a perforated wooden paddle, much like a holey-ping-pong paddle. Hefting it for weight, he idly slapped it against the palm of his hand, just long enough to make Pauline jittery, before employing it on her defenseless body. Then he laid into her. And it proved, much to her dismay, to be much more effective at inflicting pain. As the blows began to randomly fall on her thighs, mainly the fleshy posterior, but also the flanks, Pauline's smug confidence completely disintegrated. She writhed and wailed, pitifully, her protests rising in volume and distress as he then shifted his target to her breasts--mostly on the outsides. "We'll leave the tops, tips, and inner cleavage surfaces until later," Maurice explained, "as they call for a somewhat different touch. For the same reason, I have, so far, neglected your inner thighs."