tagNonConsent/ReluctanceA Matter of Discipline

A Matter of Discipline


You meet someone who totally turns your sexual world upside down and in the process teaches you things about yourself that you may not have known.

Good/bad, pain/pleasure, dominance/submission, desire/repulsion the feelings and sensations while distinct nonetheless meld and become almost indistinguishable one from the other on an emotional and sexual level. This story includes elements of anal loving, physical dominance, sexual violence, emotional submission, rough sex and reluctance.

I encourage you to leave your comments and to remember to vote. Read and enjoy.

A special thank you to rexbrookdale for your help with editing this story.


How is it that women so often let themselves walk into untenable situations with their eyes wide open, but unseeing? I did exactly that almost a year and a half ago, and trust me, at the time I didn't have a clue what was happening. My new lover Marc was a sexual dream come true, and I was more than willing to put on those proverbial rose-colored glasses if it would keep him in my bed and between my legs.

From the beginning, the sexual side of our relationship was electric. The sex was almost frighteningly good. Marc was a young, well thought of attorney associated with a good firm and I was inexperienced and sexually ready for someone like him. Hell, maybe that was the problem, the relationship revolved around fucking . . . where we could do it, when we could do it, how we could do it, and in what positions we could do it.

I remember the first time we were together; the sexual sparks were already flying. We'd gotten back to his place after a night of dancing and drinking, and after a few more drinks gravitated to his bedroom. We both were ready and knew exactly what was going to happen. He unzipped my dress and I stepped out of it, removed my panties and was about to remove my stockings.

"Sit down on the bed," Marc said.

I stood there, looking at him, naked except for my stockings. "Why?"

"Just sit on the fucking bed."

I went to the bed, sat down and teasingly leaned back, opening my legs. I could see him becoming aroused as he looked at my already wet and glistening pussy. I let my fingers slip down to my swelling clit and playfully rubbed it until the moist pink bud poked out, hard and now clearly visible.

"I love the way your pussy looks," he said in a hoarse, throaty voice, "swollen, pink and wet."

"Now, finger fuck yourself and cum for me," he commanded, and I eagerly rubbed my clit and fingered my pussy until my juices dripped down between my ass cheeks. When he bent down, slipped his tongue between my fingers, and flicked my throbbing nub, all I could do was cry out with the pleasure. The sensations were dizzying, leaving me lightheaded and breathless as he ate my pussy with obvious delight.

"Oh yes, Marc, please . . . yes . . . like that," I moaned as I took his head in my hands and pressed his face tightly to me.

"Stick your tongue inside me; I want to feel your teeth on my clit." The feel of his mouth between my legs, was unbelievable, he soon had me ready to explode. With a final thrust of his fingers into my pussy, I came hard, straining against his mouth, giving in totally to my orgasm.


When things were going well it was wonderful, and like many women, I'd sometimes find myself daydreaming about marrying and making babies with him. You know, him going off to work each day and me staying at home with a big pregnant belly and heavy milk laden tits, happily waiting for him to get home so we could have more sex. Crazy, huh?

Our relationship progressed quickly, but for all of his seemingly good qualities, there were things that should have sent up red flags for me. A couple of incidents come to mind that should have made me take a closer look at Marc and really see his insecurities and sexual quirks. The first happened the night of a mutual friend's birthday party. We'd been there for a few hours and Marc had had a couple of drinks, but he wasn't drunk. I was with a group of old friends, laughing and talking, but I had gotten a little nervous when at one point I looked up and saw him standing across the room glaring at me. Suddenly he came up, and taking me possessively by my arm excused us and led me away from the group. "Marc, please don't make a scene," I pleaded as he practically dragged me down the hallway to one of the empty bedrooms.

He pushed me into the room and continued his tirade. "I saw you talking to that guy, dancing with him, rubbing yourself against him like a slut." He was right up in my face. "Why are you acting like a fucking slut in front of our friends?"

"What are you talking about?" I asked in total bewilderment. The fury on his face scared me in a way I had never experienced with him before.

I made myself stay calm, and reassured him that I would never do anything to intentionally embarrass or disrespect him. Then, when he looked away, I tried to rush past him but he blocked my escape. Impulsively, I then scurried across the bed to the other side and made to run toward the door, but he caught me again and this time, he slammed me hard against the wall. My head was turned and I could feel the rough coolness of it against my cheek. With one hand, he held my face there while he warned me in a low, intimidating voice, "You'd better not let anyone else fuck you!"

I couldn't see him, but I heard him as he undid his belt and pants and pulled his cock out; when it brushed against my thigh I could feel that it was already hard.

"If you think you need a fuck, bitch, I'll give you a fuck," he said through clenched teeth. "I can see you need to learn some discipline and I'll be happy to teach it to you, slut."

I struggled as he roughly pulled my dress up over my hips, yanked the crotch of my panties aside and rammed his huge, pulsing cock into me. When I screamed, he covered my mouth with his hand, turning my scream into a muffled whine.

He hadn't closed the door all of the way, and after a couple of minutes of him abusing me, out of the corner of my eye I saw someone. This guy, this stranger, was standing there in the doorway, his cock in his hand, watching and jerking himself off as Marc fucked me. Though I felt nothing but humiliation and shame, I tried to make eye contact with the guy and struggled harder, but he was so absorbed in what Marc was doing to me that he wouldn't look at my face. As Marc fucked into me, the guy watching us jerked himself off into someone's sweater he'd grabbed off the bed. He probably thought that what he had witnessed was just someone having quickie sex with his girlfriend, and not a crazy bastard sexually 'disciplining' his bitch.

When Marc finally climaxed I was crying so hard I didn't realize he had finished, not until he grunted and pulled out of me. His thick, white cum slowly pooled in the crotch of my panties. To my amazement, he then became the thoughtful, caring man I knew, actually turning me around to face him and kissing me as if nothing had happened. He wiped my tears away, brushed back my damp hair and told me to straighten my clothes and he would take me home. It was unreal . . . I mean, that was it . . . nothing else was said about it.


As we drove to my apartment, I sat there trying to figure out how I could end whatever this was between us. "Get ready for bed," he instructed as soon as we got into my apartment. I undressed and got into bed, hoping that he would leave, but he stripped out of his clothes, crawled into bed and immediately reached between my legs to fondle me. I caught my breath when he inserted his fingers into my pussy and like the slut he'd called me all evening, I didn't resist him. The renewed, throbbing ache between my legs only emphasized how much I now wanted him. He brought me to orgasm and before the waves of pleasure had faded, he rolled me onto my back, spread my legs and claimed my wet, dripping pussy with his mouth.

Though I was sore from his earlier treatment, he buried his face in my puffy, soft mound and lovingly licked and sucked me, my moans growing louder and louder. He opened me and let his tongue run up and down the inside of my thighs, coming close to my pussy and clit but not pleasuring me there. Repeatedly he brushed his lips over my pussy slit, making me whimper and purr with excitement. Did he know how angry I had been with him? He must have, and yet here he was, obviously taking pleasure in making me hump his mouth and strain to feel his tongue inside me. He finally put his mouth on top of my clit, and, sucking so gently, so deliciously, gave me the tongue fucking that I wanted, making me cum wet and sticky into his mouth. Physically satisfied and covered in a moist sheen of sweat, the room smelling of our pungent sex, I fell asleep, exhausted.

When I woke that morning, he was still there next to me, his hard, masculine body warm and naked against mine.

"Good morning, baby," he said, rubbing against me so I could feel the pressure of his morning hardness against my ass, pushing and probing for entry. He found my still swollen, pink hole and effortlessly slid inside me. I closed my eyes remembering how upset we both had been the night before, but now in the light of day everything seemed fine as he maneuvered on top of me and lost himself in fucking me.

Things went pretty well for several months, and there were no more incidents. Apparently, all had been forgotten and forgiven. I think in some strange way I cared for him, and realized that despite how professionally successful he was, and despite how wonderful a person he was most of the time . . . he had issues. If he were upset with me, our lovemaking for him would evolve into rough sex, during which he would 'discipline' me. Afterwards, he would hold and kiss me, all the while telling me that everything would be okay and then would make exquisite love to me leaving me clinging to him, sexually satisfied and submissive.


Marc's law firm was just a few blocks from my office, so occasionally he would swing by and pick me up after work. One afternoon when he picked me up, he saw me outside of the office talking with one of my male co-workers who happened to have his arm innocently about my shoulders. The argument started almost immediately after I got into his car. All the way home, I listened to accusations and tried to ignore the intimidation. At first, I tried talking to him, but it proved pointless and after a while, I just sat there, silent.

When we got to my apartment, I jumped out of the car and ran to unlock the door and get inside away from him, but before I could close and lock it behind me, he had pushed it open. He stepped inside, slamming and locking the door behind him.

"Enough," I shouted. "I've had enough; I just want you to get out! Now!"

Marc stood there, expressionless, making no move to leave.

"Marc, please listen to me," I said in what I hoped was a calm voice. "I think you should leave now." With tears now brimming in my eyes I looked up at him and said, "It's over between us Marc, if you don't leave I'm going to call the police."

"Alright," he said after a long silence.

Relieved, I foolishly let my guard down when he started walking towards the door, and so I wasn't expecting it when he suddenly turned around and pushed me, making me stumble backwards. I think I must have fallen and bumped my head. When I came to, I was on the living room floor with my legs splayed open, my knees pushed up against my chest, my clit and pussy glistening and exposed. My blouse was open and my bra pulled down so that my breasts were free, and my nipples visibly hard and peaked. Marc was on top of me, his thick, angry hard-on with its huge cockhead poised to enter me. I started to struggle, but he put all of his weight on me and ruthlessly pushed his cock into me up to his balls.

"Get off me, Marc! Get off, you bastard!" I screamed.

I could barely move or breathe under his weight and finally stopped trying to fight him; I just lay there while he fucked me. I know this sounds terrible, but he took me the way I always liked it, slow and deep. Within a short time, I felt an orgasm building, I didn't want it to happen, but I knew there was nothing I could do to stop it . . . I was going to cum.

"Oh god, I'm cummmminggggggg," I groaned as my hips began to hump against him. I could feel my pussy involuntarily grip and release his cock as he also erupted, sending his load deep inside me. Never saying a word, he pulled out of me and began milking his cock so that the last drops of cum fell onto my face. He got up and started to dress, but before he pulled up his pants, he made me get on my knees and crawl between his legs where he demanded that I suck and lick his dick clean. Grabbing handfuls of my hair he held my head in front of him until I had sufficiently cleaned him.

When he left, I grabbed my phone intending to call 911, but then decided against it.

I mean, what would I say? "My boyfriend, whom I've been fucking almost every night for the last nine months pushed his way into my apartment and forced me to have rough sex with him. I didn't want to, but I couldn't stop him . . . oh, and did I mention that he gave me a fantastic orgasm?"

I put the phone down.


When he left, I was relieved and foolishly assumed that the relationship was finally over. I felt sad in a way, I mean after all, he was loving, affectionate, and exciting to be around, at times. Then again, there were the times when he was so sexually aggressive with me that it left me frightened and cautious of his lack of self-control.

After a few initial phone calls and attempts to apologize, contact with Marc stopped altogether. I was often lonely but relieved that he seemed to have finally gotten the message. I found out just how wrong I was, when one night I awoke to discover someone standing over my bed . . . it was Marc.


Throwing back the covers, Marc pulled me from the bed and made me get onto my hands and knees with my head lowered and my ass raised to him. He penetrated my ass with his fingers and roughly pushed his cock into my pussy and began to thrust deeply and deliberately into me, while his fingers rimmed my ass. When he was hard and fully erect he pulled out and nestled his cock between my ass cheeks before he started forcing his swollen cock into my still tight asshole. The more he pressed his cockhead into me the more I struggled and tried to squirm away from him.

"Marc, stop . . . please, you're hurting me," I said between near hysterical crying.

"Shut up bitch and just take it," he practically spat out the words, "you've taken it up your fucking ass before!"

He took a hard thrust into me, which made me scream loudly while simultaneously begging and pleading for him to stop.

"I told you to shut up, I'm just giving you what you need, a good ass-fucking," he said hatefully.

"Marc, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I just want to be with you," I pleaded, "Just stop, please stop and we can talk and make love the way we use to . . . not like this." Even though I was doing exactly what he wanted, groveling, begging for his forgiveness, in his vindictiveness none of that mattered anymore.

Kneeling there in front of him with my ass presented to him like a bitch in season, I couldn't stop moaning and whimpering as he slowly pressed more and more of his engorged length into me. My body tensed, and then relaxed when he finally pressed his cock pass the muscle ring encircling my asshole; after that, taking his length became a little easier. As he fucked my ass, I felt his hand caress and then tighten around my throat. Amid a mixture of emotions and physical sensations I experienced a faint ringing in my head as my body fought for air. A stillness seemed to envelope me and I recognized the unmistakable tingling of an orgasm starting to flow through my body. I could feel his hands tightening on my throat again, when he groaned loudly, took a final deep thrust and shot his load of thick cum forcefully into my warm, tight ass giving me a very intense orgasm and then . . . blackness.

I think I was in shock when I finally came to, hurting and disoriented, unable to stand up very well. I crawled away from him on my hands and knees trying to get . . . to the bed? The bathroom? The door? I didn't know.

When my thinking cleared, Marc was lifting me up and carrying me into the bathroom where he lowered me into a warm bath. The warm water soothed my sore muscles and abused ass. As my body relaxed, I felt his hand find its way between my legs and tenderly caress me there until I melted into a gentle orgasm. When the water started to cool Marc helped me out of the tub, dried me off, and walked me to the bed. We got into bed and he put his arms around me, pulling me to him. I could feel his arousal and made to pull away from him, but he held me tighter and rolling onto me caressed my face, saying simply, "Let me," and I did.

The next morning Marc was up and moving about in the room by the time I awoke. I sat up in bed and watched him dress and gather his things. He came over and sat on the edge of the bed and after a moment said, "I guess this is it, isn't it?" Knowing my own sickness for him, I knew I had to end this. I looked at him, and softly said, "Yes," and told him goodbye.


I didn't see or hear from Marc for almost six months, until one night we ran into each other at a popular jazz club. He nodded when he saw me and, crossing the room we exchanged greetings, then went our separate ways. As the evening wore on however, we seemed to gravitate to each other, and over several drinks reminisced about how it had been and why it ended in the way it had.

He was still as handsome and sexy as ever, his eyes bright, his smile infectious, and his hand warm and knowing as he gently stroked the inside of my thigh. God help me, but I could feel my hips involuntarily straining toward his hand, wanting more of his touch. He leaned into me and kissed me hard and deep. Perhaps it was the alcohol, but as I relaxed more, I opened my legs allowing him to push the crotch of my panties aside and slip his fingers into my already wet and eager pussy. Moaning into his mouth that covered mine, he finger fucked me and within a short time I felt the familiar quivering between my legs signaling the subtle but unmistakable signs of an imminent orgasm.

"Marc, I've missed you," I said as I tried to maneuver closer to give him better access. "I'm so sorry about what happened, I didn't mean for it to happen like that."

"Let's go," he whispered, and abruptly pulled his fingers from my pussy, causing me to gasp in surprise and disappointment. "Oh, god Marc, nooooooooo," I whined, "I don't want to go . . . please don't stop."

"Let's go. . . now!" he said impatiently as he helped me from the booth.

He took my hand and led me toward his car. As we approached the car, I saw that it was parked at the far end of the lot in a poorly lit area. I felt uneasy and attempted to pull back, but he put his arms around me, and kissing me deeply, said, "Come on baby, it's okay, we just need a little privacy." With that, he pulled me around to the other side of the car, deep into the shadows where he pressed me over the hood of the car. Slipping his hands under my blouse, he grabbed my breasts and squeezed them hard, making me flinch and sending a strong, erotically charged shiver from my breasts to my aching clit.

Reaching under my skirt and pulling my panties down, Marc found my opening, and immediately tried to push his fully engorged length into me. Already on the brink of an orgasm even before we had left the club, when he began fucking into me with just the head of his cock, my body quickly convulsed as my delayed orgasm erupted, its intensity causing my stomach and thigh muscles to cramp and my legs tremble.

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byMeredithEighty8© 13 comments/ 66263 views/ 50 favorites

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