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Subject: Title story: "Amy's B&D Adventures" Author: Anonymous 49462655
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Date: Thu, 21 Jul 2005 16:17:40 +0000
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Amy's B&D Adventures
Let me tell you a little bit about me. When my great adventure began, I was
young (age 25) and not very experienced. Oh, I had sex any number of times, in
a number of different ways, but I never felt the wild excitement in actually
doing those things that I imagined in advance. I had a million different, very
kinky fantasies, things that I really wanted to do but was afraid to try, even
if I had the opportunity to try) which I really didn't have. Mostly, my
fantasies involved me as a sort of slave girl, captured by some strong
individual. Some days, I imagined my master to be a male and sometimes a
female, with special events for each one. What I thought I really wanted was a
strong master or mistress, one who also had wild sexual fantasies, and who
would take charge of me and would then act out those fantasies, obviously with
me playing out the part of slave girl, used by master (or maybe better yet,
mistress) in strange and delicious ways, hopefully with an audience watching
and most delicious of all, whether I liked it or not. I wanted strange and sexy
things to happen and not have any say as to the agenda, to be used, perhaps
even to be a little bit abused.
My figure is good, that is, I think it is good, and maybe you will agree (that
is, you will if you like full bodied girls with large, shapely titties). I am
tall, about 5'7", with a nice, full shapely bust, good legs, and a delicious
round bottom. I love being nude, and enjoy other people seeing me nude. I have
even posed nude for a guy, just for fun, very naughty, very sexy pictures, like
me masturbating for him, with a large rubber dildo or for example, his favorite
shot, me urinating for him, the stream shooting out like a waterfall. I did find
that very exciting (though, I would just die if those pictures ever got out) and
no, I won't show YOU the pictures, either. I also posed nude once for a very,
very sexy amateur lady photographer, but that is a completely different story
that I do not intend to tell you today. All I will say about that is that she
was dressed when she took the first pictures of me, she was nude when she took
the last pictures of me, and the very best pictures would have been taken a
while later, but by then, frankly, she was too busy to think about taking
pictures. She had her mind on something else (and her tongue into something
else, too).
I love reading about kinky sex. Sometimes, I go to the porno shops, to look at
the fascinating things they write about, and to look at the exciting array of
rubber dildos and accessories that they sell. I even bought a couple of those
things) strictly as a scientific experiment, you understand. I know a nice shop
in Miami that sells remarkable stuff and I have purchased four different dildos
and a couple of rubber butt pluggers. I adore playing with these toys, and had a
secret fantasy about somebody else putting them into me (instead of me doing it
myself). If it was a super-sexy guy who did it, and if he started me out with a
nice, bare bottomed spanking, that would be just great. And if it was a
marvelous, beautiful, dominant super sexy lady who did it to me, that would be
the greatest!!!
In one of the shops, I found a magazine, a Swingers Journal that seemed
interesting. It had just fascinating pictures, especially in the B&D area that
was my particular excitement at the time. The ads seemed like fun. One of these
showed a guy whose area of interest was in spankings, enemas, and Greek things
about which I had many secret thoughts but not much real experience. I decided
that I would answer this particular ad, not intending ever to meet this guy, but
rather, just to hear what he had to say.
A week or so later, I got a letter from him, with a nude picture. His name was
Tom. He was a divorcee. He was about 35, well built, well hung, too. And he was
holding a leather paddle in his hand and hanging from the ceiling next to him
was a large enema bag, a long rubber hose attached to it, and connected to the
end of that, a black rubber looking device that got inserted into the recipient
of this enema, and really did the work. It looked like a huge, erect, black
penis. Believe me, it was an impressive picture.
His letter told about how he liked to be masterful, how he thought that there
was no sight so beautiful as a naked, shapely, female bottom, and nothing he
liked to do so much as to pet it, to kiss it... and to spank it until it was
rosy pink. Then, when she was fully ready and receptive, to give her a long,
slow, deep enema, filling her fuller than she had ever been filled before,
using, of course, a Bardex so that she could not expel it until permitted. And
then to lubricate her pretty asshole, greasing it generously until it was
slippery, and then to fuck it deeply and firmly. His letter excited me
tremendously. He became an instantaneous member in my library of fantasies.
I wrote back to him, he replied again, and this time, included a telephone
number. I stared at that for a long time. I knew that calling the number was
taking a very serious step, that there was at least a chance that I would follow
up and visit him at, as he described it, his Domination Laboratory. I did call
the number. When he replied, his voice was much as I expected it to be, and the
conversation also was about what I had expected. We agreed to meet, not at his
place, but on neutral ground, at a certain coffee shop, nothing else promised
but the meeting. I was willing to go that far in advance, but no further at all.
Oh, I knew I would go ahead and meet him at the coffee shop, but I did have
serious doubts about whether I would go from there to his place.
The day of the meeting came, and as promised, I went. In fact, I got there early
so that I could scout out the scene, and if he showed, and if I did not like his
looks up close, I could sneak out. Well, he did show up on time, and I did like
his looks. We had a fascinating conversation about everything else in the world
except sex. We found a million things to talk about, found lots of areas of
common interest, a few fun things to fight about, too. After a long time (maybe
as much as a couple of hours), it was time to leave. I declined to go to his
place yet, but since I did not have a car with me (I had hopped on the bus to
get there), he drove me home. As luck would have it, a vacant parking place was
right there, almost at my front door. He walked me to the door, and right into
my apartment. What happened next was an awful long way from what our letters
talked about. We were soon petting, and in short order, he had me out of my
sweater and bra, and soon out of everything else. He got me very excited,
undressed himself and showed off a nice looking, very erect penis. We did have
very nice, normal sex. It was fun, pleasant, and certainly not earth shaking. I
am not even sure now that he made me cum that night. I don't think so, but then,
I rarely do in regular intercourse.
He called me again the following week. Soon, we were dating, more or less
regularly, having good sex once or twice a week, but no domination, no
spankings. One evening, we did go to his place. This time, he showed me his
laboratory, a room in the basement, with wood paneled walls, a large, sturdy
oak library table with a gym mat as a top, and a rubber sheet over it. That
was the laboratory. We wondered what it would be like if I was up on it,
bottom up. I complied. Attached to each leg of the table was a leather strap.
He put a leather dog collar around each of my wrists, and then fastened the
wrist to one of the leather straps, stretching my arms out wide, and helpless.
Very quickly, my ankles were similarly fastened. I was now spreadeagled,
completely under his control.
Did he now take charge completely? Absolutely not. He talked to me, and came
back to our early correspondence, and what I had told him I wanted him to do.
And all this time, his hands were wandering over my bare ass. Suddenly, SPLATT!
He whacked me with his big, bare hand across my ass. It stung a little bit, but
certainly did not really HURT. Again.......and again....a few more times. Then
he went to the closet. He took out a leather strop. Long and wicked looking. He
talked to me some more. And then he raised the strop and swished it, fairly
hard, across my ass. It did hurt, but it felt good at the same time. He gave me
a fairly thorough spanking that day, followed by the love enema he had talked
about.. a long, slow enema that took 20 or 30 minutes to go in. Along the way, a
couple of times, I told him that I could not take any more. Each time, he would
stop the water flow for a while until I got used to the feeling...and then start
it again. Eventually, he gave me as much as he wanted me to have, but then, he
made me keep it in for a while longer.
After he finally did let me expel it into the toilet, I got to rest a while, but
then, he did Greek me. He first expanded my anus with a greased finger, and then
two and three at the same time, stretching me. He had a conical, rubber dildo, a
butt plugger. Slowly, almost tenderly, he inserted it in me until the thickest
part was past the sphincter. In it went, the rest of the way, the thick rim
preventing it from going in too far. He asked me how it felt. Actually, it felt
almost marvelous. I was almost disappointed when he pulled it out and I was
shocked when, from his drawer, he pulled out a still larger version of the same
thing. This looked too big to ever get into such a tight place. However, with
patience, and perseverance and plenty of pressure, he did get it in, slowly
stretching me larger, until the largest diameter passed the sphincter and it was
lodged fully up inside me. He gave me a little more of the leather strop, so I
could have the two sensations together. After a while, the rubber plug came out.
He got up astride, put the blunt, rigid end of his cock against my now stretched
rosette. After what had happened so far, that did not really hurt at all, it was
sort of tight, but not painful. And to me, the sensation of being fucked in the
ass by a masterful man was just marvelous, though I must say that never did I
have the feeling that I was out of control. I always felt that any time I really
wanted him to stop and go no further, that he would have stopped without
question. Never did I feel totally dominated, subjugated, like the subdued
slavegirl I really wanted to be.
The next time or two that we were together, things were much the same. After we
had done the same things a few times, we began to talk about fantasies, and he
made me tell him mine. It relates to Mrs. Olsen, who was my landlady, and who
really disliked me. If I ever was going to try the slavegirl experience, totally
controlled by another, she would be absolutely my first choice.
Now the wierd thing about her was that she once had been a strong
disciplinarian, a teacher in one of those strange schools where the students are
punished. I overheard her telling a lady friend once that she did have an
experience. She had a student who badly needed the discipline, and nothing that
Mrs. Olsen ever did seemed to make that one shape up. Repeated applications of
the leather did not make any difference. The cure for her, according to Mrs.
Olsen, was that she was given a thorough stropping, forced to take a number of
tablespoons of castor oil, thank Mrs. Olsen for each one, stropped some more,
and then given a large mouthful of Mrs. Olsen's shit to eat, a tablespoonful at
a time. I overheard this and never forgot it. And, I am sure, I masturbated
about it a thousand times. That was my fantasy. I wanted to be taken over by
somebody who disliked me, stripped, spanked thoroughly, made to eat her pussy,
and then more humiliating things.
Now understand this about Mrs. Olsen. She is tall and strong, a very handsome
woman, with a very potent personality. She is about 45. There is no Mr. Olsen
around. I do not know if she is a widow or a divorcee, she is not the kind of
person that you ask questions of. We genuinely do not like each other. I think
she is overbearing. She thinks that I am wild, spoiled, disrespectful. While
she is my landlady, I cannot wait to get out of there, and she cannot wait to
have me gone. But, she still is very much in my fantasies. This story,
embellished somewhat, is what I told to Tom. He is very interested in this,
and says that he is going to look into making it all happen. He had me write
him a letter, detailing all this, though how exactly he plans to make use of
it, I do not know.
Today, Tom called at lunch time and asked me to come over this evening, and to
be sure to be there before 8:00 PM. He says that we might, just might, have
company, though he won't say who and he won't say what. I am fantasizing about
this, have been all day now, not knowing what to expect. Today is Thursday, I
thought, and today is the day that perhaps I am going to meet my fate. Thomas
had heard my story and questioned me on it in detail. He knew what I think I
want. He was delighted to help me, to play in our little drama. He had my
letter, written in my own hand, addressed to him, which detailed everything. He
had also purchased a pint bottle of castor oil at the drug store, the only item
on the list that he did not have in advance. And he had made the calls, I
believe, talked to Mrs. Olsen, explained our relationship, and had her
surprised (and he says, delighted and enthusiastic) agreement to participate.
He told her that he had been regularly spanking me, had nude photos of me that
he knew she would want to see, and had ideas of advanced discipline for me that
he wanted to discuss with her. She was cautious, but interested, after all,
this was really right up her alley, and it was being handed to her on a silver
platter, so to speak.
This time, for the first time, I did not drive to his place. I knew that if the
adventure was going to go according to his plan, that I would be taken home, in
bondage, by Mrs. Olsen. My car would only be in the way. I went there by cab,
dressed as usual, in jeans and a sweater. The clothes made no difference. I
would be nude as soon as I got there. Thomas' house was no different than at any
other time. The furnishings are sparse, but adequate. The room down in the
basement, which was the "playroom", had wood paneled walls, with various hooks
and eyes, and the large, very sturdy oak library table with a padded top. On the
floor stood a brown paper bag. I was instructed to strip down to my panties,
(but to leave them on) a pair of black nylon bikini panties that he had bought
for me that he liked. I was to put each article of clothing that I removed into
that paper bag. Soon enough, I was almost nude, trembling slightly, though not
from fright. Thomas had seen me nude now a number of times and had used me in
the various ways that a punished girl is used. Instead, I was trembling in
anticipation. This might be the night that Mrs. Olsen would join us, and if she
did, there was no telling how the agenda might go. This time, for preparation,
all that happened was that Tom put wrist cuffs on me and fastened my wrists
behind my back. I was helpless. And I was wondering if she would appear, and if
she did appear, if she would participate, and if she did participate, how severe
she would be with me. I had fantasies about how she would be dressed. No matter
what she had on top, I knew that she would wear a black merry-widow, a short
corset like garment, only hip length, and with that, black opera-length hose and
garters. And of course, black panties that revealed more than they hid, through
which would clearly be visible, her full behind. I had seen her dressed this
way, and it really depressed me. It also really excited me. I had visions of
kissing that large, shapely bottom, of thrusting my tongue up inside, and I
hated these visions. And secretly begged that she make it happen.
I stood, just marking time. The phone rang. Tom went upstairs to talk, and
seemed gone forever. Then the doorbell rang. I could hear voices as he answered
upstairs, but I could not identify who was there. I could only hope. Footsteps
could be heard, two pair were coming down the stairs, and there she was!! Mrs.
Velma Olsen stood there, looking just gorgeous, dressed in a simple, severe
black dress. She looked around the room, looked finally at me, standing wearing
only my panties, my wrists fastened behind my back.
"My dear", she said. "You cannot imagine how glad I am to see you here. And
looking so lovely, too".
I stood still as her hands ran across my lower body, fondling my bottom, gently
squeezing one cheek of my ass. Her hands ran up my front, taking hold of each
bare breast and fondling me. She took my nipples, each between a thumb and
forefinger and gently squeezed, bringing them to instant erection, and using my
nipples to pull by, dragged me in very close.
"Let me see your tongue", she commanded.
I opened my mouth, showed her the tip of my tongue. Squeezing somewhat harder,
she ordered me.
"Further,darling. Stick it all the way out so that I can see it."
I complied. She opened her mouth, and we deep-kissed. And gently, she bit
down on my tongue. Not very hard, but hard enough. This was not at all what I
had expected.
"My dear", she said, "Tom has told me how naughty you have been. I am not
really surprised, but it is nice to have confirmation that I have been
correct. He has asked that I help in modifying your behavior. Won't that be
fun?"
And in saying that, she squeezed hard on each erect nipple, making me gasp.
She removed the black frock. She did not have the merry-widow on, rather, she
was wearing only a sexy looking deep-cut black bra, and black panty hose. This
emphasized her curvaceous figure, and with her high heels, she had a totally
queenly appearance. Tom, watching closely, his eyes popping out at the sight,
was obviously very erect. It seemed certain that at least for now, he was going
to be a voyeur in this drama, not a direct participant. It also seemed that he
did not mind in the least.
Velma sat, and pulled me over her lap, bottom up. Her hands fondled my bikini
clad rump, squeezing here and there, probing a bit. A hand ran inside the waist
band and squeezed naked flesh, not hard, but rather more a loving squeeze. She
quickly pulled my panties down, tugged them all the way off, and asked me to
open my legs so that she could see all my parts. Her hands probed here and
there. First, a finger touched all around my vulva, testing for creaminess. I
was sopping wet. The finger probed inward, deeply, came out again and rubbed
gently across my now erect clit, almost making me leap off her lap. The finger
found its way between the upturned cheeks of my bottom, found the rosebud
pointing up at her, gently forced its way inside, full depth. This also seemed
to please her.
"Ooh yes, you are just lovely," she said, "just the way I knew you would be".
And she raised her right hand and spanked me fiercely across one cheek of my
upturned bottom. Very slowly, she lectured me on good behavior, punctuating
almost every point with another hard swat on my bare ass, first on one cheek and
then the other, alternating back and forth it seemed, to be sure that each side
got its fair share. Well, each side got more than its fair share. Very soon, she
brought me to tears. This went on for a while, much longer than I had expected,
and much more of a spanking than Tom had ever given me. I was crying now, not
knowing what to say.
I begged her to stop, promising her as a little girl might, that I would be
good, that I would never again be disrespectful, that I would obey her in
anything, just anything, that she might want me to do. She pushed me off onto
the floor, ordered me to kneel before her. Now understand how I felt. I had
truly been punished and my bottom felt like it was on fire. I felt humiliated to
be treated this way, and to have Tom see me treated this way. I felt totally
ashamed of myself for getting myself into this situation. And I felt totally
under her control. But most of all, I felt absolutely, orgasmically excited. She
was Queen, she was in charge, and what would happen was completely up to her.
What she wanted from me, she would get!!!
She took off her black bra, and showed me (and Tom) a pair of delicious,
shapely, large breasts. She offered me a thick, dark brown nipple to kiss. I had
no doubts whatever about what was going to happen now, and I did just as she
indicated she wanted me to do. I leaned forward, and took that luscious morsel
into my mouth and sucked it lovingly. Shortly, her hand found my earlobe, and
pulled me downward. She shucked her black underpants, spread her husky, shapely
thighs, and showed me a musky crotch, obviously excited that she wanted me to
kiss as a gesture of submission. And all the time that I had known her, hated
her, always I had known that this was what I really wanted. I had dreamed about
it a thousand times, the thought of me being on my knees, kneeling before her
widespread thighs, peering into her open, expectant crotch, looking at the pink
lips and her erect clit, standing up and awaiting my kiss. I knew the
significance of this position. I was going to lean forward and kiss her there,
and suck her juices, and give her pleasure. And by so doing, she was going to
take possession of me, to use me any way that she chose to use me in the future.
I was going to be converted to her slave girl, and she would own me and operate
me. I buried my face in it, her gorgeous, feminine cunt, tasting her juices,
enjoying the strange flavors and enjoying the sexy, gorgeous feeling of
humiliation of doing this with Tom watching. He loved it.
I was still on my knees between her thighs when she reached to the table for the
bottle of castor oil, and a tablespoon. A large spoonful was poured, and offered
to me. I pursed my lips, knowing that no taste did I hate so much as this. I
refused. She smiled, reached over and took a nipple, and pinched HARD. It hurt,
really hurt. I screamed, not understanding her sudden change in mood.
She said, "Now there you are being willfuly disobedient. That is exactly what I
am going to correct."
She pinched again, and I immediately opened my mouth wide, and got for my
troubles, the tablespoonful of the castor oil. I gagged on it, but managed to
swallow it down.
"Would you like another?" she asked. When I gasped out NOOO, she pinched again,
saying "Now that is the WRONG answer, darling. Let me ask again. Would you
like another?"
I knew what would happen if I said no again. I did not know what to say. She
said it for me.
She said "'May I have another?' That would be the way that you would say it if
you had good manners".
And with that, she gave me another pinch, this time not so hard, but still hard
enough. And of course, I did ask for another, and was duly rewarded with a large
spoonful, and then a moment later, another and another.........
I was let alone for a while, while Velma and Tom disappeared upstairs. They were
gone for a long time. When they came back, I could see that Tom had lost his
erection. Velma sat down again before me, her thighs spread again, and beckoned
me to kiss her. I did, of course, and found now that she was ever so much more
juicy than before, a totally different flavor, too. Obviously, out of my sight,
they had fucked. She had paid Tom, in a sense, for turning me over to her for
discipline, and she had thanked him in the manner he liked best. Velma reached
into her purse, and found a new toy, a large nipple clip that she attached to
one of my nipples, and snapped a leash onto it. This was a new way o lead
somebody around. She found my coat, threw it over my shoulders, took
he leash in one hand, the paper bag with my clothes in the other, said goodbye
to Tom, and led me out to her car. As she led me, her attitude seemed to be that
of a great lady who had just procured a new toy, and now meant to take it home
and play with it in depth. I was the toy. And I knew this game that we were
going to play. She was going to make the rules and I was going to abide by them,
without any limits. She would be judge and jury and enforcer.
In the car, she reached into the coat, took my other breast in her hand and
very gently fondled it, rubbing the nipple. She turned her face to me, and
offered me a very wet kiss, and as well, a totally confusing mixture of
sensations and feelings. Her hand ran between my thighs, into my pussy, feeling
its wetness. She gently, very gently frigged my clit, bringing me almost, but
not quite to orgasm.
And she nibbled on my ear lobe, and thrust a tongue into my ear, in the
meanwhile, whispering, "Darling girl, I am going to be your teacher, and I am
going to just loooovvvvee being your teacher. You are just going to love it.
Did you enjoy going down on me?"
Considering the remarkable talent she had shown for pinching my nipples and
making me do her thing, I knew I had better give the right answer. I said that
I loved it.
"Good", she said, "since you like it so well, do it again, right now."
So, for another ten or fifteen minutes we sat parked in front of Tom's house, my
face buried in her humid cunt, my tongue sucking her clit, and all the while,
that castor oil was doing its insidious work, taking me ever closer to that
particular point of no return.
Away we drove, finally, towards home. I was certain that I would never make it
there, considering the wild sensations in my bowels. Somehow, I did manage to
hold on long enough, my stomach heaving and quenching, as she led me up the
stairs, firmly holding the leash. I begged for permission to go to the bathroom,
and to my surprise, it was granted without question. Velma was, for the moment,
in her sweet phase. I came back out, and was granted permission to shower and to
rest a bit. Rest for what? Well, as it turned out, for quite a bit more.
An hour later, after relaxing and watching the evening news on TV, she ordered
me up. My hands were fastened behind my back again, and after some really loving-
type gentle play with my nipples, we began to discuss discipline. She reviewed
my conduct over the past several years that we had known each other. She pointed
to a number of specific instances where, she thought, I could have, should have,
behaved differently. Now, she told me, she was going to teach me a number of
things, but better manners and better behavior and total obedience to recognized
authority were certainly vital parts of the lessons. Obviously, she was now the
recognized authority that she referred to. To determine if I was sufficiently
obedient, she turned her back to me, bent forward to give me a delightful view
of her bare ass, her legs spread so that I could see her brown rosette, almost
winking at me.
I knew what she wanted me to do, to give it a long, wet, sweet thrusting kiss.
At that point, I could not. She said that this was disobedience, exactly what
she had meant. And announcing this, she bent me over the end of the couch, my
bottom raised. She left me there for a moment, went to fetch something from the
closet, and showed it to me, a wicked looking leather strap, about 18" long, 3"
wide, and the end cut into three separate tongues of leather. She told me that
it was a trainer, sometimes called a tawse, but by any name, a marvelous tool
for one job, for teaching. She said that nature had provided every female a
place to be taught, her naked behind. There, lessons could be given, that it
might be painful for the moment, but they would be remembered and no permanent
harm would come. And with that, she raised the tawse, and SSSSSPPPPLLLAAATTT!, a
fiery streak, right across the crowns of both cheeks. I screamed out. She said
nothing, and for a long time, the only sound in the room was the voice from the
TV. Time dragged, and my behind was on fire. I had never really felt anything
like it before. And then, SSSSSPPPPPPPLLLAAATTTT!! Again, she burned my bottom,
as before. And now it hurt twice as much, if that is possible. I was sobbing,
crying, begging her to let me go. All that got me was a third and then a fourth
shot of the wicked tawse across my rump. She asked me questions about things I
had done the previous year, about things I had said, about Tom. She wanted to
know if I had been letting him fuck me. I said no. That immediately earned me
another vicious swat with the tawse. Again she asked, and this time, I
confessed. She wanted to know if I had him use me up the ass. I denied it and
got yet another stroke. I confessed that Tom had been using me anally. She noted
that down for future reference, as if that was another transgression that she
intended to cure. I was crying hysterically now, willing to tell her anything,
willing to confess to any sin, and getting in the process, a barn burner of a
spanking. Suddenly it stopped.
She said to me, "What would you like to do,now?" I knew there was only one
answer to that question, and I said it, "Please let
me show you, let me kiss your beautiful ass."
She smiled slightly, bent forward again, and again, offered her brown rosette to
my tongue. Now, finally, I did what I had always really wanted to do. I thrust
my tongue against it, probed inward slightly, tasted her strange flavor, and
gave her thusly, the kiss of total obedience.
She left the room. After what seemed a long time, she returned, carrying a paper
plate. I knew what would happen next, and sure enough, she found a spoon, and
then asked me if I wanted my dessert now. I gulped, cried again, and said
nooooo. And for that refusal, got another two strokes of the tawse. She asked
again, and knowing that this would go on until I said yes, I did so. She made me
request it, made me ask her to please feed me my dessert.
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