A Reluctant Dom

Millie stood nervously in front of Daniel's fireplace, playing with her rings, reaching up occasionally to push her hair behind her ears, only to pull it back out, repeating the cycle almost compulsively.

The conversation she'd overheard between her brother and his best friend months earlier had aroused her more than anything before. After hearing them discuss bondage and spanking, dominance and submission, all she wanted was to be a slave, obeying every whim of her Master. She had read hundreds of short stories and even ordered and devoured a few books on the subject, all of which only served to make her more determined to follow this path. She had never wanted anything so badly in her life. And Daniel was making it very difficult for her to do so. At last she felt ready to confront him, and taking a deep breath she walked to his office.

Daniel glanced up briefly as the door to his office slammed open and bounced off the wall. Millie stalked in wearing a revealing red halter top, short black skirt and shiny stiletto heels, her cheeks were flushed with anger, setting off her dark eye make up and deep red lipstick, all of which only accentuated the alabaster paleness of her skin, the deep chocolate hair that fell sleekly to her waist and the honey glow of her eyes.

"Tell everyone that you've been lying," she demanded imperiously, stopping just short of his desk. "You turned me away when I came to you and bared my soul, and begged you to train me, so stop telling people I belong to you."

Daniel sighed as he set his reading glasses to one side. "I never actually told anyone that you were mine, I just hinted that it would be their best interest to not get involved with you."

"Well stop it! What I do is none of your concern. Just butt out of my life."

"I am trying to protect you, Millie." Daniel stood and poured himself a drink. "You have no idea what you could be getting yourself into. BDSM is not a game to these people. There is no time out, and no do overs. Making a promise, forming an agreement with any of them is like marriage. I've known you long enough to know that you'd be bored in just a few weeks."

"You really don't know me that well, Daniel." She flung herself down into one of his oversized chairs and kicked off her shoes, curling up the way he'd seen her do countless times since adolescence. He found it disorienting that at twenty three she didn't look all that much different than she had at fourteen, she was more mature certainly, but she still seemed fresh, innocent, even painted up like a whore as she was now.

"I feel like there's a part of me that's starving. I never really thought much about sex until I heard you and Tim talking that night. I've been on edge ever since. I just need someone to take control of me." She looked up at him, her light brown eyes shining with unshed tears.

"Did you ever think that maybe I've been flighty because nothing has ever resounded with me before. This does. Just the thought of being on my knees, or bent over and spanked gets me hot and wet." She sat there, small and vulnerable. "Please, just give me a chance to pursue this."

Daniel sipped his whiskey, considering, and then turned his ocean blue eyes to her again. Maybe all she needed to drop this fantasy was a good scare. "Strip and then go up to my bedroom and wait for me."

Millie stood and untied the neck of her blouse, letting it fall to reveal her full, high breasts before she untied the waist tie and tossed it to one side. Next she shimmied the tiny skirt down over lush hips and let it pool around her feet, before stepping out and kicking it to one side. She wore no panties and no stockings, and he noted that her pussy was completely bare and she had a shamrock tattoo about where a pair of bikini panties would ride. She turned to present her tight ass and slowly sauntered from the room.

Daniel fought the urge to chuckle. She really was a cute little vixen, with a wonderfully lush body and lips made for kissing. She just wasn't worldly enough for this life she thought she wanted. She was a sheltered socialite, raised in all girl boarding schools and until her parents had died she had not been allowed to venture out much on her own.

She was a good girl, he thought to himself. Millie was the kind of girl a man married to improve his social status, the kind of girl any politician would want for a wife, not one to be led into a lifestyle of kink and perversion. He tossed back the rest of his drink then loosened his tie as he slowly made his way down the hall and up the stairs to his room. He would give her a safe word, blindfold her then spank her a little until she used that word to halt the play, proving to them both she wasn't cut out to be a sexual submissive.

Daniel entered the master suite, expecting to find her sprawled across his king size four poster bed like some cheesy centerfold model, and was pleasantly surprised to find her kneeling on the floor at the foot of the bed, her head bowed, hands resting on her thighs, palms up. His girl had certainly done her research. He stripped down to his boxers watching her remain still and patient, her breathing even. He went to his armoire and slid open the secret panel in the back, pulling out a heavy leather blindfold, long paddle and after a moment of consideration a pair of handcuffs. Maybe a bit of overkill, but he was willing to do anything he had to do to frighten her back onto the straight and narrow.

"You do make a very pretty picture kneeling there, Millie," he told her as he moved behind her and slipped the blindfold on, ensuring she could not see his movements. "Stand." She did and he pulled her over to the sitting area by his fireplace, bending her petite body over the back of his leather loveseat, handcuffing her hands together in front of her to prevent an accidental finger or hand injury while he spanked her.

"I'm going to take a wooden paddle to this sweet little rear," told her, gently running his hand over it. "If you need me to stop you will say red, do you understand?"

"Yes, Sir." Her voice was not a bit hesitant, and for a moment he wavered. Maybe this wasn't the best idea he'd ever had. He'd been more experienced subs who were apprehensive at this point, and she was acting like he requested her to run to the store for a gallon of milk. "If you use your safe word, I will expect you to never, ever mention becoming a submissive again, and you will cease your visits to the local playgroups, understand?"

"And if I don't, Sir? If I don't safe word out, what will you do for me?" He swatted her once with the palm of his hand.

"I don't think you're in a position to be bargaining, little girl." He saw her mouth tighten a bit as she tried to lift her chest. Naked, sightless and restrained she was trying to pick a fight. He bit his cheek so as not to laugh. He pushed her back down with a hand to her lower back. "Fine, Millie, if you can take one hundred swats, I will train you for one month, open you up to new things. We can renegotiate at the end of that month. If," he paused for emphasis, "you can pass this little test tonight. How does that sound?"

"Very good, Sir," she said breathlessly. Daniel stood back for a moment to admire his target, then picked up his paddle.

"Count for me, Millie, nice and loud." The first blow landed with a sweet crack as she gasped out "one". The first twenty swats fell with progressive strength, and he could hear her fighting not cry, and eased up for the next ten, loving the fiery redness that just got deeper and deeper, he figured she would be wanting him to stop before he hit fifty.

At the forty fifth swat Millie was sobbing, and Daniel could see tears slipping from beneath the blindfold. On a whim he slipped a hand down to her pussy. "Fuck," he muttered under his breath. She was dripping wet, and he could easily slide two fingers into her hot cunt. He was starting to think maybe she was made of sterner, kinkier, stuff than he had first thought. Determined to prevent her from making it all the way to one hundred he made sure every stroke of the paddle was hard, a little harder than he would normally use even with an experienced pain slut, but at ninety five he knew that he was screwed.

"One hundred, Sir," Millie said, gasping for breath, her juices running down her legs after the last swat had been administered. She was proud for not giving in to the temptation she'd had at sixty two to safe word out. It had only gotten better after that, and she felt as if she were floating. Her mind was clear and serene. She felt his dick slip into her pussy.

"You surprise me, little girl," he said hoarsely, pumping to her hard, his hands tightly gripping her abused bottom, sharpening the pleasure of his dick inside her. She felt him coating her ass hole with something cool and slippery. Abruptly he pulled from her, leaving her feeling abandoned, before sliding a finger into her ass.

"Have you ever had it this way?" He worked in a second finger, amazed at her lack of resistance to what he was doing.

"No, Sir."

"Good." He pulled his fingers from her ass and in one quick, forceful stroke had buried his cock completely inside her, biting her shoulder as she came hard with a loud cry.

"Goddamn it, Millie, you're supposed to be a good girl, this is supposed to shock and disgust you, not make you come like a porn star." He swatted the side of her ass, relishing her moan of pleasure. "You're a fucking pain slut, aren't you, Millie?" He grabbed her long hair and pulled her head up.

"Yes, Sir, I'm your pain slut, for as long as you'll have me." She screamed, as much from pain as her orgasm, when he slammed himself into her hard after nearly pulling out, and they began to fuck furiously. She met every thrust and came again when he did. For several minutes the room was silent but for their harsh, fast breathing. With a growl he pulled her to standing and undid the cuffs, then removed the blindfold as he led her to the attached bath room and ran warm water over a soft towel to clean her. She was trembling as she took the towel from him and knelt to clean his dick. She would be a gentle and considerate slave, if she could keep up with her future lessons.

Afraid that she would pass out, he picked her up to carry her back to his bed. As he settled her under 300 thread count Egyptian cotton he pulled a bottle of juice from the bedside mini fridge, cradling her head and coaxing her to take small sips, until some of the color returned to her cheeks.

"I wanted you to fail, Millie," he said, softly. "I'm never that rough with anyone."

"I really want this, Sir," she said. "I would have taken another hundred if I had to. I'm serious. For the first time in my life I feel--I can't explain it. I just know this is what I was born for."

Daniel sighed and kissed her temple, before sliding under the sheets with her. Her ass was still hot as he nestled his dick against it. "I don't like it, Millie, but I can see that you are committed to your choice, and I don't trust you with anyone else. You belong to me now."

"Yes, Sir," she murmured sleepily, "I'm yours."

As she fell asleep, he stroked her hair, wondering how bad Tim was going kick his ass for making her his slave.