tagBDSMJen Crosses the Threshold

Jen Crosses the Threshold


Jen held her breath as she touched the button with Rick's last name below it. Months of emails, flirting, and talking on the phone had finally come down to this moment. She had come here for one reason, and for one reason only: to be dominated by a man she barely knew. A younger man. A man who wasn't her husband.

She told herself there was still time to back out as she waited what seemed like at least ten minutes for him to finally answer her ring. She could still go back home to her family and call the whole thing off.

But when the buzzer sounded, indicating that the door had been unlocked, an almost irresistible force seemed to draw her into the building and up the three flights of stairs she knew led to his apartment.

The door stood ajar, but there was no sign of life anywhere inside.

"Rick?" she called, pushing the door gingerly, causing a long, almost earsplitting creak to echo through the stairwell.

She'd been instructed to simply enter the apartment without speaking, but something about the situation was giving her second thoughts. How much did she know about Rick anyway? How much trust can you put in the fingers on the other keyboard, or even the voice on the other end of the phone?

He'd presented himself as a fit 33 year-old businessman in middle management, and an experienced Dom. At 42, Jen was almost a decade older than him. Ordinarily, she was anything but attracted to younger men, but when she'd started chatting with Rick he'd exuded a confidence that exceeded his years. She'd been hooked.

Over the past few months, she'd fallen deeper and deeper for him. She'd opened herself to him online in ways that she'd never done with her husband. She'd revealed her desire to submit, to serve a dominant man sexually, to be punished for her transgressions and rewarded for her good behavior.

At his request, she'd even gone so far as to send him photos of her breasts and buttocks, or "ass" and "tits" as he'd insisted she call them. Even though she had quite an appetite for sex, Jen disliked talking about it in the real world -- especially when that talk involved vulgar language.

The creaking of the door came to a halt. She stood at the threshold of Rick's apartment, but also of a life-changing decision. If she crossed the line she didn't know what kind of world she'd be entering.

She stood there feeling her blood pressure skyrocket as her heart pounded. She couldn't go through with it. She had to get out.

She turned and started to run down the steps, taking them two at a time, her heels clattering on the metal stairs as she sailed downwards back out to freedom.

That is, until her heel caught under an errant rug in front of one of the apartment doors and sent her into the first (or at least the most memorable) fall of her adult life.

In a flash, she found herself flat on the floor. She'd been able to brace herself with her hands at the last moment, but her wrists ached as she pushed herself back up onto her knees.

Her skirt was slightly torn across its single seam, and the heel of one of her shoes had broken off in the fall, but she was otherwise unhurt, although the palms of her hands ached.

"Shit," she said aloud, red with embarrassment in front of an invisible audience.

She collected herself, searching the floor for the broken heel before finding it nestled partway under the mat that had caused her fall. Brushing the piece off, she stood and turn to descend the stairs once more.

Just then, she heard a familiar voice above her.

"You're late," said Rick, "and your outfit is unacceptable."

She looked up. There could be no mistake that it was Rick's face which gazed at her from the stairway above. His large blue eyes were in stark contrast to his otherwise severe features, like azure pools amid a rocky landscape.

"I --," she stammered, "I was leaving."

She blushed an even deeper red.

"Fine," he said, calmly taking a sip from the long-stemmed glass he was holding in one hand, while he fixed her with his gaze, "don't bother contacting me again."

Before she could open her mouth again to protest, she heard his apartment door slam shut.

She paused a moment to catch her breath and regain her composure. She started down the stairs. After a few more steps, however, she stopped. She couldn't leave things like this. The months of anticipation, the waiting. She at least owed him an explanation.

Thirty seconds later she was in front of his door once more. This time it was closed. She smoothed out her blouse before knocking.

After a moment Rick opened, smiling at her.


"That wine looks good," she stammered, "and I think I owe you an explanation of why I can't go through with this."

He stepped backwards from the door and gestured for her to enter.

She noted how he carefully bolted the door behind her. Her heart began to race once more.

"It's just that I," she started, turning away from him.

"Take it slow, Jen," he said, "have a seat."

She stumbled towards an armchair, almost falling once more due to the lopsidedness caused by her lack of a right shoe heel. She thought she heard Rick chuckle somewhere behind her.

"Easy there," he said.

Once she had righted herself in the chair, she looked up to see Rick offering her a glass of water.

"Thanks," she said, "but I think I'd prefer wine under the circumstances."

"Sorry," he said, pushing the glass into her hands, "but I don't think you've earned it yet."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Just drink the water and calm yourself down a bit."

She drank, gulped even. It felt good to obey Rick, even if it was something as minor as drinking water.

Once she'd finished the glass, he took it from her and placed it on a table nearby. Then he sat on the couch adjacent to her and gave a gesture indicating that she should speak.

She struggled for a moment to find the words.

"Rick," she started, "I decided down there, a minute ago, that I can't go through with this. I just don't want to do this to my husband. Even if --," she trailed off.

Rick looked on expectantly.

"Even if he doesn't understand," she continued, "doesn't know what I really need, I just can't go behind his back like this."

Rick regarded at her with what she took to be a slight smirk.

"So I'm just going to get going," she said, pushing herself up but then slipping back again on her broken heel.


"Go ahead," said Rick, gesturing towards the door, "but you can stick around for a moment if you want to know what I think."

She paused, then let herself sink back into the armchair.

"I think that you're a cockteasing whore," he said, in a completely level tone, "who doesn't have the guts to follow through on her promises."

She turned bright red.

"Furthermore," he continued, "you don't have the courage to explore your desires."

He took a sip of his wine, regarding her with what she took to be a condescending expression.

"How DARE you talk to me that way you perverted bastard!"

She pushed herself up and kicked off her shoes, taking one in each hand before shuffling to the door in her bare feet, avoiding looking in his direction all the while.

"Let me out of here."

She fiddled with the bolts, but couldn't seem to hit the right combination that would unlock the door. After a moment she looked over at him in frustration.

He stood and walked over to her, slowly but surely. Her breathing quickened as she felt his body loom behind her.

He flipped a few of the bolts, and Jen grabbed the knob. To her surprise, the door was locked as tightly as ever.

"Jen," he said, "do you really think I'd let you get away with calling me names? After all you know about me?"

She turned to look at him, staring up into his blue eyes. Their faces were so close hey could have kissed.

He reached behind her. Jen closed her eyes, anticipating, beyond all rational explanation, that he was leaning in to kiss her on the mouth. Instead, she felt his hands grab her wrists and then the feel of cold metal snap down on each of them. She was cuffed.

"What the FUCK?" she stammered, "that is NOT what we agreed to!"

She kicked at him with one foot and then fell backwards into the door. He grabbed her in his powerful arms, placing one hand across her mouth as he lifted her by the waist and carried her through a door into the bedroom, finally throwing her face down on a large bed.

"Let me go," she shouted, "I'll scream."

"Not now you won't," he said matter-of-factly, pulling her head back and shoving a ball into her mouth. She was now cuffed and gagged, on her stomach, on a stranger's bed.

She couldn't remember having been in a situation this intense. Ever.

Rick was doing something behind her now. She heard a tearing sound.


He tore her skirt along the seam, finishing the work that her tumble on the stairs had begun.

"Pink panties, as I'd instructed," he said, "good girl."

She groaned in protest into her gag.

He lifted her and set her on her knees in front of him, then unbuttoned her blouse roughly, tearing some of the buttons off in the process, sending them skittering in all directions across the hardwood floor.

"Matching bra. Good."

"Jen," he said, "you know that you're going to be punished for your misbehavior tonight. First of all," he said, stroking her hair, "for arriving late."

"Next," he said, opening a drawer behind her, "for being so disheveled when you did arrive."

He closed the drawer, having retrieved whatever it was he was looking for.

"Finally," he said, "for having disrespected me in my own home."

"Now Jen," he said, "I'm going to give you a choice. You're going to be allowed to pick the implement of your punishment. When I remove your gag, you're going to say either the number 'one' the number 'two' or the number 'three'. Is that clear?"

She had no choice but to nod. As soon as he removed the gag, however, she let out the longest, most ear-piercing scream she could muster. He looked at her in astonishment for a moment, then forced the gag back into her mouth.

"Very well," he said, "that earned you several more strokes, I assure you."

"And what's more," he said, walking behind her once again and then returning to her field of vision wielding a long wooden cane, "you've forfeited your right to choose what you'll be spanked with tonight."

He ran the cane along her cheek, almost tenderly. Tears came to her eyes and she shook her head.

"It's far too late for that, Jen," he said, removing her blouse entirely before bending her over the bed with her ass in the air and her feet on the ground.

She felt the cold air on her nether regions as he pulled her panties roughly to her knees. She trembled as he ran the cane across her naked buttocks with gentle strokes, as if he intended to comfort her.

"This is how I treat disobedient whores, Jen."

He drew the cane back, biding his time as she winced in anticipation.


A strip of fire seemed to rise across her bottom. She whimpered in pain through the gag.

"STOP!" she tried to yell, but it came out as a "HMMMPH!"



He let the cane down four more times, pausing between each lash. She was sobbing now. But at the same time, she realized that her cunt was burning just as furiously as her ass. She was one the verge of the biggest orgasm of her life -- from being caned!

As she frantically rubbed her legs together, trying to bring relief to her clit, she couldn't believe what she was doing. Here she was, being dominated against her will by a younger man (it was against her will, wasn't it?), yet she was about to come.

Just then, she felt his hands massage a cooling, oily substance into her angry backside.

She sighed in relief, though her sexual excitement had not abated.

"That's enough for now, Jen," he said, rubbing the sting from her buttocks, "but I assure you that we're not finished here. You'd like to come, wouldn't you?"

His hand teased her clit enticingly for a split second, but then withdrew.

She nodded her head furiously.

"Then you're going to learn how a good slut behaves."

She blushed again at the word "slut." He noticed and laughed.

"You've got to admit that it's amusing that a woman like you would object to being called a slut," he said, "after everything you've told me online."

"Jen," he continued, "do you promise not to scream if I remove your gag? If you disobey, I'll give you five more lashes."

She nodded.

"Very well."

She panted in sexual frustration as soon as the gag was out.

"Please," she moaned.

"Not so fast, Jen. Like I said before, there are some rules around here. The first one is that you only come when you're explicitly given permission."

She squealed as he rubbed the oil onto her exposed asshole. It was a sensation she'd never experienced before.

"Jen," he said, fingering her ass gently, but with increasing firmness, "I'm going to have to train you to take my cock in your ass. This process will take quite some time, as I am - how should I put it? Well endowed."

Jen groaned in response as she felt a foreign object slide snugly into her asshole.

"Please, no," she moaned, though her arousal was evident.

"That's a buttplug, Jen," said Rick, unbuttoning his pants, "and you're going to wear it every day this week until you come to see me again next Friday. Is that clear?"

"But my husband..."


His hand connected with her oily, aching ass. It stung like hell.

"Oooo!" she squealed, "ok! Ok! I'll wear it!"

"Good girl."

He began to tease her clit again, using just the tip of his fingers.

"Would you like to come, Jen?"

"Yes," she sighed, her arousal almost unbearable, "please."

"I'd like you to say something for me first, Jen."

"Anything," she groaned, his expert fingers slowly entering her, curving down to tease her g-spot as she lay face-down on the bed.

"Tell me you're a dirty slut, Jen."

She shook her head, unable to respond.

"Say it Jen," he said, withdrawing his hand and moving into position behind her. She felt him push the head of his cock just beyond her outer lips, almost penetrating her.

"Please," she begged, almost hyperventilating from excitement, "just fuck me. Fucking let me come."

Her inner thighs were soaked from her own wetness. She couldn't remember ever having been this wet before.

"Please just fuck me," she begged.

"Say it, Jen."

"I'm -," she whispered, "I'm a dirty slut."

"Louder!" he commanded, grabbed her hair suddenly and pulling her head up, "I want the neighbors to be able to understand you."


He brought his hand down across her ass.

"Say it, Jen. Shout it."

"I'm a dirty slut," she stammered.


His blows savaged her tender buttocks. She choked back a sob.

"I'm," she started, unable to choke back her tears, "a dirty slut."

"That wasn't loud enough, Jen, but I'm going to let you get away with it for now. You'll learn in time."

With that, he pushed into her cunt, which seemed to defy the laws of nature by being at once soaking wet and consumed by fire. As she felt him slide into her and bottom out on her cervix, her entire body began to gyrate.

"That's it, whore. Come for me. Come on this fucking cock," Rick grunted, pushing her into the bed and plunging his rod into her like a piston.

Jen came. And as she did she screamed. She let out a wail that seemed to hold the years of frustration with her marriage, her job, her life. It felt like she was releasing all of it there, on a stranger's bed, with her hands cuffed behind her back and his dick in her cunt.

"Good whore," he moaned, fucking her furiously, "do it again. I know you can."

"Come on this cock," he commanded.


She came once more, quaking from the inside out as his manhood plunged into her.

Suddenly, he pulled out of her. He hauled her off the bed and set her on her knees on the floor, forcing her to look up at him by pulling her head back by the hair.

"Did you like that, whore?"

As she looked into his eyes, the term "whore" seemed all the more demeaning.

"I'm not...," she muttered, closing her eyes to avoid his gaze. She was still panting from the force of her two recent orgasms.

"A whore?"

Now that her erotic thirst had been slaked for the moment and the immediate sting of the whipping was fading, she became acutely aware of how the metal cuffs cut into her wrists.

"Yes," she said, meeting his gaze for a moment.


He brought his substantial erection down across her face, hitting her with surprising force. Then he jerked her head to the other side and gave her opposite cheek the same treatment.


The humiliation of having been smacked in the face by a younger man's cock was too much for her. Jen closed her eyes and struggled against Rick's grip on her hair as he prepared to slap her again.

"Stop it," she moaned, "I'm not --."


He repeated the procedure, slapping her on each cheek in turn with his erection.

"Tell me what you are, Jen."

Tears came to her eyes, even as she felt the fire return to her cunt. He positioned his prick near her lips and commanded her to open.

She started to protest. But as soon as she parted her lips, he shoved his cock into her mouth, causing her to choke.

"I know from your e-mails that you can deepthroat if you have to, Jen," said Rick, pushing steadily into the back of her throat by forcing her head down upon his manhood, "now would be a good time to practice that skill."

He pulled his cock back out for a moment to allow her to catch her breath.

"Relax your throat, whore."

There it was, again. That word. She winced, even as she felt another rush of blood to her cunt.

He pushed his cock back into her mouth, this time all the way into her throat.

"Look at me, whore. Good whores always make eye contact while being throatfucked."

She struggled to obey him, forcing her eyelids open as tears streamed down her face. His cock felt impossibly thick, about the width of a glass bottle.

"Good whore," he said.

Then he placed both hands on her head and proceeded to fuck her face. Jen had never felt anything like it before. Rick was completely disregarding her pleasure, merely using her for his own. Yet at the same time, she felt as if she were on the verge of coming again.

The sounds of gulping and gasping filled the room as Rick fucked Jen's face. He was not entirely inconsiderate, however. Every few strokes he allowed her to catch her breath before his next onslaught. All the while he muttered degrading remarks.

"You love choking on this dick, don't you Jen?"

She could answer neither in the negative or the affirmative. Instead, she let herself become entirely passive, opening her throat for him as he used her. It was a freeing feeling, an almost meditative state.

All at once, she felt his pendulous balls smack her under the chin. She couldn't believe it. Had she actually managed to take him all the way into her throat? It seemed impossible.

"Good whore," Rick growled.

He pulled his cock out once more.

"Tell me what you are, whore."

Jen panted, trying to catching her breath. After composing herself halfway, she shook her head no.


He smacked her across the face with the flat of his hand.

"Say it, whore."

"I'm," she started.


"I'm a whore," she whispered, tasting her own salty warm tears as they reached her mouth.

"Good girl. I'm going to reward you," he said.

He reached behind her and detached her handcuffs.

One hand shot immediately to her clitoris. She had to relieve the tension building up inside at once!

"Jen," he said, grabbing her arm, "you're not to come without permission, remember?"

She nodded, slowly withdrawing her hand.

"I think you should make me come first, don't you?"

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