Intro to BDSM

"Undress for me, pet."

He sits comfortably on the couch, fingers locked behind his head, a curious smile showing his feelings. He watches her stand and reach to unbutton her pink blouse.

Her long dark hair falls about her shoulders and she looks him in the eye, an equal, almost daring him. She has never submitted. Never stood with downcast eyes awaiting her punishment for displeasing her dominant, her master. She has never lay, naked, across his lap, over his knee, her full round, white cheeks begging for the hand or the spatula. Or the paddle. She has not yet failed in anything. She has never tried. But, she was woman enough to try to please and see if she could get off being someone's plaything. Someone's toy. To earn a reward, and let Him make all the decisions.

He knew what was going on in her mind. Her defiance. Her unwillingness. Her lack of experience. He would show her. Make her submit. Make her beg, and wail. In pain and in pleasure.

Still, he smiled pleasantly as she unbuttoned the first button. The second. The third.

"Stop."

"Hands at your sides."

She follows his orders looking at him, her chin up.

He waits. He is looking at the bare skin of her chest above the fourth button. The curve of her breasts. Her hard nipples poking through the sheer fabric of her blouse.

"Turn around."

She starts to turn.

"Stop."

She stops, her full round bottom facing Him.

"Bend over and grab your ankles."

She hesitates just a moment.

"Every order is to be obeyed." He smacks her ass with a spatula. She bends down and grabs her ankles, trying to see him between her legs. He is still sitting on the couch, though his arms are now crossed on his lap. His right hand swings the spatula.

"Grind your ass."

"What?" she asks.

The smack from the spatula is harder now. Down near the back of her thighs. The skin must be red. Her ass starts to move in circles.

"Better. But when I tell you to do something you do it. Understand?"

She is too busy moving her ass in circles, trying to keep her balance, her breasts nearly spilling out of her bra and open blouse, too answer. She feels the sting of the spatula, this time on the back of her right thigh. Uncomfortably close to her pussy.

"You must answer properly, pet. Try again."

"I'm sorry, Sir."

"That's better, pet. You must learn." He gently caresses the spots where he smacked her, soothing, rubbing, almost healing.

"Do you like this position, my sub?"

"No, sir."

"Why?"

"I feel like a whore, sir."

"Would my little whore like to stand up?"

"Yes."

Too late she realizes her mistake. The spatula strikes the back of her left thigh, then the back of her right. The blows are getting harder.

"Sorry, sir"

"Very good, whore, you may stand up."

She stands up and faces away from him. Her face is more red than the backs of her thighs. It is from the blood rushing to her face from her position, and her shame. She feels just a bit humiliated. But, a part of her likes it. Likes being called a whore, and spanked like a little girl. The fact that she is respected by her friends and neighbors and generally feels superior to them only heightens her humiliation. And fuels the heat that is building between her legs. She can feel her nipples bite as they strain against the fabric of her bra.

She feels her pussy twitch when she thinks of telling her friends that she likes to be tied up and spanked and used. She places her man's pleasure above her own.

A smack to her right ass cheek brings her back to reality with a jolt. The blow was harder, and larger, and sounded fuller, thicker. A hand.

"Did you hear me, whore?"

"No, Sir."

"You need to learn to pay attention. Count off."

With one hand gripping her left shoulder hard, he swats her ass, where the curve of the cheek melds into the thigh.

"One, Sir."

She is learning.

He hits her again, on the other cheek.

"Two, Sir."

"That's good my whore. You are taking it well," he encourages her. Grips her shoulder harder for a moment and caresses her buttocks, rubs them in circles, squeezes.

He is hard. And lets her know by taking her left hand and rubbing it along the length of his thick cock.

He backs away and pulls his arm back to deliver another blow. He grasps her shoulder, feels her tense and waits. Her breaths are coming deeper, slower. She relaxes. Whack.

She jumps.

"Three, Sir."

"Good girl."

"Thank you, Sir."

"You have had enough for your first time, I think."

He sits back down on the couch.

"Turn around and face me, slut."

He watches her turn. Looks into her face. Her eyes are big and teary. Her nostrils flaring as she breathes and her face is red and splotchy. He can feel the heat emanating from her.

"Continue to undress."

Her fingers trembling, her insides pitching and heaving, she unbuttons all the buttons on her blouse and pulls the tails out of her jeans. Letting it fall over her shoulders and down her back, she pushes her smallish breasts towards him. Still in the bra, her nipples are hard and large.

He smiles at her figure. Not too waify and not fat. Healthy. And white. He resists the urge to touch it and caress it. He knows it is better not to, for now.

She is clearly confused, watching him sit on the couch relaxed, without touching her. She unbuttons her jeans and begins to shimmy out of them, over her shapely hips and down her tapered legs. Her face is over his lap. He reminds her with a glance at his crotch. She blushes noticeably even with her face already red.

She steps out of her jeans and stands up.

"Stop."

She is standing in the living room, her living room, where she entertains, in her bra and wet panties, hands obediently at her sides, waiting to be told what to do.

"From now on, you are not to look at me, slut. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Yes, Sir, what?"

"Yes, Sir, I understand that I am not to look at you."

"Close, my whore. You will refer to yourself as John's slut or John's whore. Or, the slut or the whore. How does that sound?"

"Yes, sir, Your whore understands."

"Very good." He watches her carefully, looking for a reaction. He sees her eyes flutter her chest rises and falls more rapidly than it would normally.

"Now finish."

She removes her bra and lets it fall to the floor. He studies her breasts, weighing them in his mind. Too small for most breast bondage. But the nipples are nice and long and the areolas wide. Good for clothespins and clamps. He moves down her stomach to her now pantiless crotch. She will need to shave. No whore has pubic hair. A sign that he is her master. She must keep it clean and soft at all times. He will tell her later, when she can take it better.

"Turn around. I want to see your red backside."

'Yes, Sir." She turns, showing him the red marks he gave her. She feels the heat from the blows even as she blushes again.

"You have been a good girl. Do you want to please me?"

"Yes, Sir. Your whore wants to please you."

"Then undress me."

She proceeds to undress him, slowly, gently, lightly kissing his skin as she uncovers it.

"Go ahead, whore, suck my nipples." She expertly moves her mouth around his left nipple. Sucking strongly, using her tongue to flick gently over the nub. Then biting.

He smacks her ass hard with his hand.

"Did I tell you to bite?"

"No, Sir."

She goes back to gently sucking and caressing his nipples with her mouth.

"O.K. that's enough. Continue undressing me."

"Yes, Sir."

The dark-haired slut, now wanting to please her master more than ever, removes the rest of his clothing. On her knees, facing his crotch, her breath warms his seven-inch, thick cock as it bounces free of his briefs.

"You can kiss my cock, slut." Her lips gently caress the head. It twitches.

"You are a good girl. What do you want, now, slut? You want it in your mouth don't you?"

"Yes, master, I want your cock in my mouth. Please let me suck your cock, Sir."

"Because you asked so nice, slut. You have earned the right to suck my cock."

She opens her mouth wide and takes him into her mouth. Her teeth grating on the underside of this member. Ever so gently, clipping the mushroom-like head, her tongue circling around and around the base of the spongy head. Grabbing her hair he holds her head still and begins to push in and out of her mouth.

"Yeah. Come on, whore, use your tongue." He picks up speed fucking her face. His cock going down her throat. Using her hole for his own pleasure. Faster. Panting. He listens to her, feels her hands moving up the back of his things, caressing his ass. Faster, harder.

Ropes of cum jetting down her throat. Grunting, twisting in her mouth.

"Good, slut. Yeah, your master likes that."

Pulling out he watches her clean his cock free of all the juices, sucking him dry.

"Good, girl. You deserve a reward." Spotting a straight-backed chair just a few feet away, he tells her to stand and bring the chair to him. Positioning it so the back is facing him, he bends her over the chair and ties her arms to the front legs of the chair and her ankles to the outside back leg of the chair. Her round ass is now exposed; to be turned purple if he wants. Her sphincter winking at him between the curvy mounds of flesh.

"So what does my good slut want?"

She thinks about it a moment and afraid to answer incorrectly, answers cautiously.

"Whatever my Master desires." Her pussy is wet and the juices are running down the tops of her thighs. Bent over a chair in her living room. A chair that her neighbor sat it just that afternoon. Oh. God.

She feels a cool jelly being rubbed in the crevice between her but cheeks. She shudders.

"Will my whore like this?"

"Yes, your whore will enjoy this, Sir."

'Enjoy what?"

"Your slut will enjoy being fucked up the ass, Sir."

"Did I say I was going to fuck you in the ass, slut?" He fingers her pussy and rubs her clit with his left forefinger. His middle finger sinks into her pussy. It clamps around his finger, trying to keep the digit inside.

"No, Sir."

"Is that what you want? To be fucked up the ass in the middle of your living room, while tied to a kitchen chair?"

"Yes, Sir. Oh. Please, Sir." There is a whine, a keen in her voice. She wants it. He can tell. He rubs her clit a little harder. Sinks his middle finger deeper inside her.

"Then tell me, whore. Tell me what my whore wants."

She gasps and inhales deeply. Her pussy is a puddle. Sticky all over his hand. The lube is warm as he pushes a finger into her rectum.

"Tell me."

"Oh, Master, if it pleases You, fuck your whore's ass. Fuck my ass, please." He lets her infraction go as he sticks two fingers down her rectum and swirls them about. Then three.

She is panting hard and moaning and the chair is sliding, her ass is moving, grinding.

Her asshole is open now, blinking at him as he pulls his fingers from it and puts a condom on his thick, wet cock. He stares ate her open hole. His hole. His pleasure hole. Fucking her in the ass, bent over a chair, tied to the legs.

Gently, he eases inside of her and hears her gasp and moan. Slowly he gets fully inside of her and swivels his hips, moves around, spreading her, getting her use to him.

Then he begins to move back and forth. Slowly, gently, building. Faster and faster. Harder and harder. Holding her shoulders with his hands as he plunges deeper into her rectum.

"Do you like that, slut? Do you feel like a whore?"

"Oh, yes. I'm your whore, your slut, Master John, fuck your whore."

Upon hearing her, he plows deeper and harder, spitting cum into the condom.

He slowly grinds to a halt, as he is spent, resting on her back. Sweat dripping onto her already wet back.

"You are such a good girl, you deserve a reward."

She hears a buzzing noise and feels the vibrations of a thousand humming lips on her pussy. He slides the vibrator into her pussy.

She watches him, as he walks into the kitchen. Her pussy gripping the vibrator as her hips buck up and down. Cumming, Cumming. She can't stop Cumming.