Sergeant Waters

Linda Waters stood in front of the building that betrayed nothing of what she knew to lie inside. There was nothing garish, no purple neon or exaggerated outlines of a woman's body. Her heart raced in her chest, and she told herself that this was absolutely fucking stupid, that there was no way that she was going to enter this den of smut and sin. So of course her hand reached out and opened the door, and she stepped inside.

It was cool and dark, dimly lit by decorated lights and fixtures in strategic locations. Of course the person she saw was a tall, gorgeous black woman wearing a latex outfit that screamed DOMINATRIX. The woman turned, looked, evaluated her, smirked, and continued on her way, without pause. She disappeared into another room, and Linda's heart gave another lurch in her chest.

A kindly young woman, wearing a french maid's outfit, came up to her and asked to take her coat. Linda nervously handed it over, feeling out of place wearing her second-best little black dress. "You look wonderful," the maid said with a soft smile. Her makeup was perfectly done, and she was a pretty little thing.

"Thank you. I don't feel wonderful," Linda admitted.

"First time?" The maid smiled knowingly. "We were all first timer's once," she assured Linda.

Linda inhaled deeply and let it out slowly. She could do this. After the things she saw, there was no question she could do this. "I hope so. What do I do now?"

The maid tilted her head towards the bar. "The easiest thing to do is sit down, get a drink, and strike up a conversation. Not everyone is here for sex, some are simply here for conversation among people who share similar likes."

"Oh." Linda felt dumb, but filed it away nevertheless. She nodded and headed to the bar, and took up a seat on a stool. A bartender who was shirtless and rocking it, took her order of an Old Fashioned. He nodded, and returned with her drink without saying a word. She saw the outline of his cock in his tight pants, and his ass was certainly worth a second look. Or maybe a third. She paid and then sat and noted a mirror that was positioned high up behind the bar. She used that to recon the room.

An older woman, slim and elegant, walked in and handed her coat to the maid. The maid's approach to the woman was fast and deferential. Yet the woman thanked the maid in what looked like a courteous manner, and then this woman swept to the bar. Though Linda had dropped her gaze, the woman seemed to zero in on her, and took up a seat next to her, though said nothing.

The bartender returned, and he too showed signs of deference. This woman with striking, perfect silver hair and a body that screamed daily workouts ordered a white wine, and only once it was returned, turned to Linda.

"So, you have the look of someone who is here for her first time," she said.

Linda turned to see this gorgeous older woman smiling broadly at her, wearing an expectant expression. She cleared her throat. "I am."

She nodded. "Nervous as a whore in church?"

Linda laughed, startled by the coarse language. "Yeah, pretty much. I'm Linda." She stuck out her hand to shake, and the older woman took it with a firm grip of her own.

"I'm Natalie," she said. "It's nice to meet you. If I may, what brings you in?"

Linda had been dreading this question. She had not found a suitable answer. And the way this silver-haired woman looked at her, with piercing eyes and that expectant look, she found herself tongue-tied in a way she'd not felt in years, at least since her middle school years. "I'm not sure," she finally forced herself to say slowly. "Exploration?"

"Well, it takes a lot of courage for a young woman to want to explore her sexuality, especially if it has...darker themes perhaps. I applaud you, and any lady, who wishes to set upon a path of self-discovery."

Linda blinked; the woman spoke in pronouncements. "Thank you," she said hoping that she sounded gracious.

"What brought you to this little neck of the woods?"

"Internet," Linda said.

"Ah," Natalie replied, nodding along in a slow, sage manner. "Hoping to discover on the internet as to what makes you burn, and now needing to find out for certain?"

Linda gulped reflexively. Then chuckled. "Here I thought I was being subtle."

Natalie had the good graces to politely laugh along. "I have a way of bringing the truth out of people. Some here say its my gift." She leaned forward, and spoke in a soft, confidential manner. Linda was forced to listen hard. "Some even say that I'm a witch." She laughed while returning to her more upright position on the stool.

"Because you know things?"

Natalie made a quick study of her hand, checking her nails. "I merely ask the right questions. It's up to the person to whom I'm speaking to find their answers within." She turned slowly, and faced Linda directly. "If I were to hazard a guess..."

Linda could not stop from jerking back a little. How in the blue fuck had she known that, so quickly? She felt the flush rush up her neck to her face, and if pressed in that moment, would have swore that her tongue swelled to the size of a lime in her mouth. But Linda also found herself nodding, and once she made the admission to another human, suddenly found it easier to speak it. "I've wondered if I was a lesbian since I was thirteen. But..."

Natalie patted Linda's knee. "Self-discovery is brutal, and if you lacked support and empathy at home, it makes it so much more difficult. You see, I knew that I liked women from a very young age, but my mother and father were supportive and understanding. It allowed me to blossom."

Linda had no intention of spilling those family secrets, of the raging, screaming fights between her and her mother, and between her and her father, that often ended in physical violence. Her father had tried to beat it out of her. Her mother had tried to church it out of her. Neither worked, and in fact instilled a rebellious streak in her a mile wide. Her father proclaimed loudly and often that women should never be in the military, he proclaiming this from his years of service and his one tour in Vietnam. So of course Linda joined the military, but not the branch that her father served - the Army - but in the Marines.

Had he been proud of his daughter? He had never said it. As she rose through the ranks, eventually becoming an E-6 NCO, he had never praised her. Always he had her lack of interest in men in the back of his mind. She had always thought hearing her being addressed as Sergeant Waters would please him, but never learned whether or not it did.

She had thought, coming from a conservative upbringing and then entering the Corps, might extinguish her sexual identity. But if anything, the Corps made it worse. She had some lovers, all male, and none excited her. In fact, her last tryst had ended when her lover left the bed in disgust, and vilely called her a "dead fuck" before stomping off. She had been horrified by the casual homophobic talk that went through the barracks and knew, without a doubt, that she could never voice her deepest secrets to anyone with whom she served. She would lose all respect instantly. And nothing ended your military career faster than that.

So why had she refused to reenlist? It really had to do with the homophobia; she had never realized how deeply it infuriated her. The discontent had seeded early, and through the course of her career it spread, sending out roots that began to permanently color how she viewed the Corps. She loved it, but hated it at the same time.

She cleared her throat, shaking away those thoughts. "I'll agree to that."

Natalie smiled again. "And you also seem like the type of woman who is equally as horrified at the thought that you might be submissive. You are strong - I can see that in your arms - and I recognize that tattoo. The Marines?"

Linda turned her arm suddenly; she had forgotten about that tattoo, that brand that would stay with her for the rest of her life. But she nodded at her inquisitor.

"To the Marines? Or to the question as to whether you might also be submissive?"

"I...don't know." Linda's voice came out strangled to her own ear.

Natalie suddenly stood. "You are young, pretty and if I may say so, give off this aura of innocence that I simply must corrupt." She smiled, making it a tease, yet Linda was not certain either way. "Lincoln? My room key, please," she said.

The shirtless and gorgeous bartender went to a back cabinet, withdrew a polished wooden box, and pulled a key out from it. He handed it to Natalie, who took the key and held it in her hand. "Follow me, if you will." Natalie headed off, and after a beat of hesitation, Linda followed.

They went up the steps to a long corridor of rooms, all closed. There were some muffled noises coming from a few of them. Natalie came to a door towards the end on the right, and opened it smoothly. She stepped inside, waving Linda in. Once inside, Natalie closed and locked the door.

"Come inside, my dear," Natalie said, hanging her key on a hook. Linda walked into a room straight out of a porno set. The large bed, the array of devices lining the wall, and various other implements and toys that she had seen on the internet, but never in person. At the foot of the bed was a bench, and Natalie sat upon that and adjusted her skirt while crossing her legs.

"Now then, my dear," Natalie purred smoothly, "do you see that nice, large pillow on the wall?" Natalie pointed, and Linda saw, and nodded. "Do bring it here, and place it here, at my feet." Linda again hesitated, but retrieved it. Her heart was absolutely racing, and if she was being honest with herself, that racing heart was directly connected to a sex that was quite alive and needy. Linda brought it back, and placed it as directed. "Now then, why don't you take a seat on this pillow, and try to relax a little."

Linda closed her eyes and counted to five, attempting to steady her heart, her breathing, and her mind that was absolutely whirling. She sat, curling her legs under her to some extent. She looked up at Natalie, and tried to smile, though it felt ghastly to her own mind.

Natalie's voice was soft. The room was silent otherwise. Yet Linda had to focus hard on listening, part of it the soft volume, part of it the rushing in her ears. "Now, my young Marine, I would think that your brain is rebelling against you right now, thinking that you are sexually submissive, when, as a Marine, you were taught to be the exact opposite."

"Yes," Linda said.

"Submission and dominance are as hard-wired as one's sexual identity. There are those who would not, could not dominate another person, just as there are those who could never submit. That is part of life. I myself have submitted, and on occasion still do, because there is a deeply erotic allure to it. But in the main, I am a dominant woman." Linda noted that she'd adopted her lecture tone again.

"So let us see where you mind may take you, Linda." Natalie stood and walked to the wall, and took down a short length of black, nylon rope. She returned to her seat, and settled in before continuing. "Now then, what do you think about when you see this rope."

Linda stared at hard it, for several moments, the tension in her building. She finally dragged her eyes up to Natalie. "I think...about that rope...around my wrists," she said softly, again feeling the bloom in her cheeks.

"Yes, I was thinking much of the same thing," Natalie said. "May I ask: how well-versed in BDSM are you, Linda?"

"None, I know nothing," she replied, her eyes back on the ropes, wondering how it would feel if they had secured her wrists at her back. Her pussy was on fire between her legs, at the mere thought of it.

"Very well. What was the worst thing that you were called while in the Marines?"

Linda's eyes darted up sharply. "In basic training we got called worms a lot."

"I see. In play, we use something called a safe word. This is a word that when spoken means that your dominant stops. It does not require a cessation of of the play, but certainly a hiatus. We would discuss what made you use the word, and whether we can continue or you are at a limit and feel that you cannot move on. Do you understand?"

"I get the concept, yes."

"Very well. Your safe word shall be 'I am a worm'. If you say that, I stop what I am doing. We will discuss it, what led to you using it and see what happens next."

"So I call myself a worm, that means I'm freaked out?" Linda asked.

"In so many words, yes."

"I understand."

"How do you feel right now?"

"Excited."

"Aroused, perhaps?" Natalie asked, her head tilting just so.

"Yes," Linda admitted.

"Very good. Now, please stand up, turn around and place your wrists at your back. I will begin to show you what you have been seeking all your life," she said.

Linda did not believe that her heart had ever hammered so hard or fast in a non-combat situation. She'd been in a few of those, and the terror of them was not exactly unlike the terror she felt now, though there was no real danger of death. She rose, and stood ramrod straight while putting her wrists at her back. She felt the loops of cool, soft fabric begin to loop around her wrists. She tugged, and the ropes would not give; she determined that Natalie was an expert at tying wrists.

"Now, turn to face me, Linda," Natalie said next. Linda turned, a trifle awkwardly, afraid of turning too fast and losing her balance. As Linda stood there, looking at Natalie's pretty face and perfect hair, she could not tell what the older woman was thinking. Her face was inscrutable.

When Natalie rose, she was slightly taller than Linda. That was not a surprise; Linda had always considered herself a "fireplug" of a body, with short, squat but powerful legs, and a very powerful ass. She had long loved the feeling of squats, the tightening of lower body muscles to push up the heavy weight. She had always felt a little badly having such small, flat breasts, a condition made worse from her very active life. Now that she was a civilian again and not burning energy like mad, some of that softness had returned. But certainly not to the extent of Natalie's chest. While not large, she had breasts that demanded attention.

"Now then," Natalie said while taking a step forward. One hand she put on Linda's shoulder, and the other she pressed hard to Linda's crotch. It was not expected, and Linda yelped and jumped backwards. She nearly lost her balance, although Natalie's firm grip on her shoulder prevented that. For all of her demure femininity, Linda recognized the strength in the older woman's grip.

"Tsk tsk, my love," Natalie cooed quietly. "Stand in place." Keeping her grip on her shoulder, Natalie then began to roam her hand over Linda's body. "Isn't it a powerful sensation, young Linda, to be defenseless in front of another?" She asked this while she traced a finger slowly over the cups of Linda's bra; the pressure transmitted enough that she felt the build of pleasure.

And in a moment, Linda realized the power of the bondage, light though it was. She could not stop Natalie's fingers from doing what they wanted. From lifting her skirt to tugging at her bra. She looked at the older woman and saw contentment and pleasure, and though she was struggling mentally with this sudden change, she felt an equally deep pleasure from it.

Natalie let go of Linda's shoulder and stood in front of her, and reached up to fondle and cup each breast. "Quite firm," Natalie judged after some groping. Linda's reaction to the groping was a new, heated bloom between her legs. She had always been wet when aroused, and now her wetness was seeping through the thin material of her panties, and dampening her inner thigh. And she'd barely been touched!

"What was your worst punishment as a Marine?"

"Burpees on end," Linda said right away. "After a few, your legs burn and your arms burn and its hard to get your breath, but you have to keep on, you cannot quit, you must continue. You don't want to be the first one to fall out," she said rapid-fire.

"Ah, but such a Marine punishment," Natalie smiled. "Turn around again." Linda did, and felt her bottom become exposed, as Natalie tugged the clingy material up over her hips, exposing the black panties that she'd worn under her dress. They were not her sexiest panties but they weren't granny-panties, either. Trimmed with a little lace, she thought that they accentuated her curvy butt well.

"Hmmm, now this is a sight. That," Natalie said, putting a dramatic pause in place, "is one fine bottom. Though it lacks a little color."

"Color?" Linda asked, confused again.

"Yes, your bum is far too pale to my liking. But luckily for us both, I have just the solution." Linda felt the hem of her skirt pushed into her fingers. "Now then, my young one, those fingers will keep a careful grip on your skirt. You must not allow it to fall from your fingers. Do you understand?"

"Yes..."

"Hmmm, let's say Madam. Say it for me, Yes, Madam," Natalie suggested.

Linda swallowed hard, once, then said it quickly. "Yes, Madam."

"Good girl," Natalie said, and Linda was amazed that two little words made her feel all sizzling again. Natalie sank down onto the bench, once more crossing her legs and adjusting her skirt. She reached up and grabbed Linda's wrist, and tugged, and Linda realized that she was about to get spanked. Over Natalie's knee! All that went through her brain was "oh my god oh my god oh my god." Her body's response was to get hotter, and wetter.

She went over Natalie's knee. Natalie used one hand to hold onto Linda's shoulders, and Linda's feet were extended so that her toes made contact with the floor. "I don't often spank, though I admit I do love to do it," Natalie said. Linda mewled in pleasure as Natalie's fingers began tracing lightly over her part of her ass cheek uncovered by the panty. Linda shivered, feeling the flesh on her ass rise in gooseflesh, the light sensation was so powerful and teasing. Then, the hand was pulled away, and was brought down with a light smack, but hard enough to generate a soft crack of skin upon skin.

"Count for me, my dear," Natalie said next.

"That was one, Madam," Linda said. She felt a thrill that she remembered to use the proper title.

"Yes, it was." Smack. "Two, Madam." Smack. "Three, Madam." Linda was tolerating it, though each smack brought with it a deeper, sharper sting. It wasn't until the count reached twenty that the pain was given some voice in her counting. "Twenty-two, Madam," Linda said as her voice rose slightly at the end. There was a warble there, brought upon by the sharp sting that permeated her entire buttock. Smack. And this time, Linda was unable to stop her low moan from exiting her throat.

"Ah, a moan. Are you aroused, Linda?"

"Yes, Madam," Linda said quickly.

"Let's see." Linda gasped when Natalie's fingers quickly slipped between her legs, and for the first time in her life, Linda experienced a woman's fingers probing her own sex. She moaned and shuddered hard over the older woman's lap. Natalie removed her hand. "Quite wet indeed. Are you always this wet, my dear?"

"Y-yes, Madam," Linda managed to stammer. The sharp ache had simmered down to a more dull ache, and adding to it a crawly, itching sensation. Yet as the pain subsided, her arousal seemed to absorb it.

"Well, one cheek is properly colored. Needless to say, you have two." Smack!

After a second twenty-two slaps, now Linda's other cheek was enduring that searing hot sting, while the first's pain had waned. As before, the cessation of smacking seemed to penetrate her, right to her pussy. It felt hotter and wetter than she had possibly imagined, and this only from the ties, a single inquisitive touch, and the spanking.