Learning to Please Him Ch. 01

This is part one of a long story about a young submissive girl learning about herself sexually and learning to please her Master. This chapter is mainly build up (at this point, she doesn't know that soon she will be entering into a D/s relationship). I have included one sexy scene. I will include more in later chapters when the characters have had more time to develop -- and thus becoming more meaningful to my story. Thanks.

All characters are above the age of 18.

*

I stare lazily into my dresser mirror. It's early Sunday morning. My strawberry blonde hair is matted and I have dark circles under my eyes from a restless night of coding. I'm young and in college, though as a computer science student, I don't necessarily feel youthful. If I could only get some sleep for once.

"CATHERINE!" My dad yells.

I quickly put on some foundation and line my eyes with charcoal eyeliner. Sheepishly peering at my unusually tall thin frame in the mirror, I change into a light blue blouse and black shorts. I smile halfheartedly. There were times when I liked the way I looked and other times when I hated my figure. Overall, I thought I looked average.

My parents are now both calling my name as they rush out the door. It's time to go to church.

After we arrive at Grace is Given, my community church, I walk in and try to avoid the inevitable eye contact with the rest of the congregation. I'm a friendly person but like my boundaries. Here at Grace is Given, it is common practice to take the time to stop and hug each other, especially strangers. If my eyes aligned with anyone there it would be an open and unwarranted invitation to approach me, and god forbid, invade my bubble with a Jesus endorsed hug. I hate it.

I make my way to the front of the rows of chairs, maneuvering through the tiny crowd, and sit in the second row.

Despite the clucking of church hens, and the occasional much too loud eccentric "halleluiah!", the only thing I can think about is how late I stayed up with my college programming assignment. I simply couldn't figure out why my code kept crashing. I run it over line by line in my head but now that I'm away from the computer I can't search for or test any solutions.

Lost in my thoughts, I jump as someone taps my shoulder. It's my dad. Great, thanks for interrupting. Dad has that familiar boyish grin that says he's found the perfect opportunity to wed his daughter off to some uppity Christian acolyte.

"Catherine, meet Oliver. He's in college just like you are."

Annoyed and embarrassed, I'm trapped in my new predicament. Oliver is a young man, tall with short, brown hair. He has thick angular brows and dark green eyes. He looks confident and assured of himself. He's wearing a green sweater and black church pants. When he looks at me, his facial expression becomes serious.

I give my dad the look.

The look is a face I make when I know my dad is trying to set me up with someone, it's a game he and I play, and I can never tell who is winning. In the past I have tried and tried to explain to him that I really don't want to date anyone that he picks out for me. The characteristics in men my dad picks is not necessarily in my interest but rather so he can reassure himself that his daughter has a proper Christian mate.

I shake hands with Oliver and introduce myself. He's stocky and stiff but has that sincere look in the exchange that says this was my father's idea, not his. I quickly decide he isn't my type and prepare to feel awkward.

"So you're in college? What are you studying?" His voice has the sort of dry monotonous tone of a robot as if he's had this same conversation over and over again.

"Computers, erm... Computer science"

"Interesting, I'm a philosophy major." Oliver responds with a tempered neutrality.

I chuckle a little. In my heart I keep a special sort of hate for philosophy, it's enough having to listen to my father preach about God every day, the last thing I need is to waste my time with a self-loathing professor's pet talking about paradox's and how great it is to understand something entirely irrelevant.

"Awesome!" I lied, getting further and further uncomfortable.

"Yeah, I really love it." He says, dropping eye contact with me.

Church is about to start so I tell Oliver it was nice to meet him, and scooch into a pew to sit down. I notice that he sits on the other side of my dad. They exchange a few inaudible words and I pretend not to care or listen.

Halfway into the eccentric preaching, and all I can think about is having to pee. I stand up, excuse myself, and make my way to the restrooms. Where did Oliver go off to? He must've gotten up when I wasn't looking.

Sneaking past the hordes of worshippers, I make it through the main doors and into the bathrooms near the entrance of the building. The white stalls have that artificially good smell that only reminds me how bad some shit can smell. I choose the stall furthest from the bathroom entrance and sit down. When I finally pee, it's so relieving. I sit there a moment to enjoy the silence.

Alone with my imagination, I start to dream up all the wildest scenarios possible, contrasting the safe environment I live in. Inevitably, as I always do, my mind turns sinfully to sex, and I'm filled with shame. What's wrong with me? I wonder if anyone has fucked in the stall I'm using.

"Fuck." I whisper to myself, the pervasive word invading the emptiness of the ladies bathroom. I'm certain I'm alone. I flush and exit the stall making my way in front of the mirror. Ugh, the fluorescent lights perfectly reveal my imperfect complexion. As I stare into the mirror, I start playing with fantasies in my head.

I feel an overwhelming urge to touch myself. I return to the stall and close the door behind me. Dirty thoughts fill my head. So many scenes and images from pornos I'd watched earlier that year. I'm grasping for one that I can stick to and act out in my mind. But first, I wait to make sure no one is else is inside the restroom. I listen for any sounds of rustling toilet paper or shuffling. Nothing.

I finally know what fantasy I'll play out. It always begins with me on my knees. Sitting in a chair in front of me is my supposed Master. A woman, another one of his servants, is present coaching me on how I ought to please him, but she's just background noise to add detail to my scenario. The focus is on me and the man across from me. His hands are gently stroking my hair and coaxing me, hypnotizing me.. telling me how much I want to please him. I begin to lightly lick the tip of his cock which at this point is almost fully erect in front of my face.

In reality, I'm leaning against one of the sides of the stall. I slide my middle finger into my pussy. I'm wet and I begin to spread with my fingers the natural lubrication over the rest of my vagina. My arousal is fueled by this altered state of mind, where I'm a dirty slut, some obedient servant girl, sucking this dominant man's cock. I picture how it looks, how I look, my lustful desire soaking in my veins, in my pores, in drops of anticipation. His dick sliding in and out of my mouth.. and me succumbing to this innermost desire in.. to please him.

I begin furiously rubbing the outside of my clit in circular motions. I'm not very practiced at pleasuring myself. Having grown up in the church, there is always this negative stigma attached to sexuality, especially masturbation, but here I was, in that very institution, heck -- during the service, touching myself. I feel myself losing arousal so I push the thoughts to the back of my mind and bring to the front my sinful fantasy.

Again, I imagine taking this Master's hard cock into my mouth, filling me. I imagine what it would feel like, probably smooth and slick. What does it taste like, I wonder? What would it be like to deep throat? It was something that had always fascinated me in the pornos, how far these women could take a man's cock in their throats. And then there was the ending of course.. my favorite part.. I let out a soft moan.

I hear a noise. Immediately I pause, my hand frozen in my panties. I stiffen. I wait for a minute. Nothing. I feel some relief from the silence but not nearly enough for me to continue. This will have to wait till another time.

I decide to properly adjust my panties. I flush the toilet even though there was nothing to flush, and open the bathroom stall door. I hurriedly stumble out, hoping no one is in front of me, no one was listening. What if someone had been there the whole time? I must have let out an occasional quiet moan at some point during my session. I get to the bathroom mirrors and jump. Next to me leaning against the wall is a tall figure. My heart quickens.

I look up and see the same young man from earlier. Oliver. Confusion fills me. My face flushes red. I'm in the ladies restroom, right!? I quickly scan looking for any urinals I had missed on the way in. There are none.

"W-what are you doing here?" I manage.

He looks at me and suddenly he looks surprised.

"Oh, this is weird." He swiftly looks around him and chuckles. "Oops, I guess I accidently stumbled into the wrong place."

"Uhh, how could you not notice?" I ask. I can feel irritation rising up in me, but underneath it, embarrassment. How long had he been standing there? I fear my voice will give away my aroused state.

"I guess I have other things on my mind." He shrugged.

"The heck, you shouldn't be in here. So can you leave now, please?" I have an accusatory tone.

He looks taken aback, but for some reason I don't trust him. As genuine as his facial expressions are, something inside of me didn't sit quite right.

"Yeah I'll leave." He says as if he is just saying words but not understanding the situation. Instead, his eyes are wandering to the stall I just used. Why is he looking over there? A moment passes. Me, staring at him. Him staring off into the place I had been. Finally, after what seemed like an awkward eternity, he straightens up, and begins to walk off. I go to follow him, but instead he turns back to look at me, with this knowing smirk on his face.

"Shouldn't you wash your hands?" He winks. Immediately, blood rushes to my face and before I can manage to say anything, he swiftly makes his way out. I'm left there feeling vulnerable and totally embarrassed.

Finally, I leave the bathrooms and return, making a mental note to definitely not make eye contact with Oliver as I pass him to sit back in my seat. All I can hope is that I never run into this guy ever again.

Unfortunately.. and fortunately.. I did see him a second time.

The time I became his.