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===================
Reposted as collected. Authors not wishing to
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From: rdragon@ix.netcom.com(***)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: BETH'S INTRODUCTION TO SUBMISSIVENESS
Date: 20 Jul 1996 17:55:48 GMT
Organization: Netcom
This is the first chapter of a story, completely fictional, which
contains
explicit sexual acts of pain and submission. If this sort of thing
offends you,
please delete the file immediately. I have tried to capture the
moments shared
by this couple in a meaningful way. This is their life-style, like it
or not.
Your comments, good or bad, about the content, style, etc would be
appreciated.
I know there are lots of Davids and Beths out there, and while these
two are
only figments of my imagination, Beth is my idea of the perfect woman,
though
many, I am sure, will find the story to be absolutely sexist.
Master J.
Beth's Introduction to Submissiveness
By Master J.
We had spent the weekend in a sexual shoot-out with Bill and Joan,
and I discovered much about this woman I was only on the verge of
learning about. During the first hour of our drive back to Jersey,
Beth
was silent, almost morose. I decided to let her stay in whatever mood
she was in and let her get out of it herself. She apparently had a lot
to think about. She wore the same blue denim skirt she had worn much
of
the weekend, sans stockings, a dark blue sweater, and sneakers without
socks. She shed the sneakers during the early part of the trip, threw
them in the back seat, curled her feet under her buttocks, and put on
the same, sullen look she had started out with. I could sense that her
mind was working intensely.
Finally, after almost an hour, she spoke. "David, can I ask you a
question?"
"Of course."
"Why did I like what happened to me with you and Bill and Joan
this
weekend?"
"Did you really like it, or are you saying that because you feel
guilty about what
you did?"
She turned pensive for a moment. "No, I really did get into it,
David. It's like nothing I would have ever imagined. Especially of
myself. It's like a light bulb went off in my head and, bang, I'm a
different person. How do you explain wanting to be dominated like I
was
back there. I was really into it. And when I came," she continued
with a deep red blush, "it was like an explosion. I was turned on so
completely by the experience it's unbelievable."
"I guess there has always been a part of me that wanted to
dominate
someone, to control them completely. So it was a turn-on for me, as
well," I said.
Beth smiled. "Great minds think alike," she laughed.
"Do you think we both changed this weekend?"
Her mind searched for an answer to my question. "Yes, David, I
do.
Can you live with the woman you created?"
It was my turn to smile. "I can't live without her."
The rest of the trip was spent in small talk. A few times, she
let
her skirt ride pretty well up her fleshy thighs, but being shy about a
trucker looking into the car, she quickly rearranged it, offering me
only maddeningly quick but delightfully sexy "beaver shots" of her
panty-clad crotch, being sure to look at my eyes whenever she did to
insure that her little "accidents" did not go unnoticed. We arrived at
my condo around 7:00 p.m. and carried the bags in. When I carried the
last bag through the door, I tossed it to the floor. I felt tired, but
not exhausted. Beth was in the kitchen, fetching lemonades for us. I
moved to the living and sat down on my reclining chair. She came into
the room carrying the drinks, smiling sweetly, and handed me one. She
turned her back and prepared to sit on the sofa.
"Where do you think you're going?" I asked.
"Just to sit down," she said, a quizzical look on her face.
"Put the drink down and turn around," I said in a firm tone of
voice.
She looked at me again, with that knowing look and sexy smile on
her face. She placed the drink on the coffee table and turned to face
me. Her mouth was opened slightly. Her hair was slightly disheveled
from the windy ride in my car. The dark blue sweater was much too
loose
to do anything for her breasts. Her legs were pale, almost white, but
pleasantly slender and graceful. She carried herself well for "older"
woman of 28.
I looked straight into her eyes and said, "Take off your sweater,"
in a soft but commanding voice.
She looked back at me for a quick moment, somewhat startled,
searching my eyes for the sincerity of my command. When she realized I
was perfectly serious, her
visage changed completely. She seemed to turn from a friendly, happy-
go-lucky young
woman into one who wants nothing more than to be dominated completely
by
her master.
"You mean, here, in front of you, just like that?" Her
questioning
voice belied her deepest desires to do as I had commanded, to do
anything that I
commanded.
"Just like that...." I replied softly, gesturing with an upturned
palm in the direction
of the bulky sweater.
She shrugged her shoulders, as if my request was no big deal,
grasped the
bottom of the sweater, and drew it up, over her head, catching it
slightly in her hair before tossing it nonchalantly on a vacant chair.
Her white cotton bra was too plain for my tastes, though the tenseness
of her nipples was already apparent through the thin gauze. Later, we
would go shopping and I would buy her the sexiest underthings I could
find. Once done, she looked at me, not straight on, but sort of out of
the corner of her eye with her head slightly cocked.
"I'll hold your bra for you," I said matter-of-factly.
She blinked her eyes once, then, still eyeing me from the side,
reached behind her back and unclasped her bra. She made no attempt to
cover herself up as her girlish breasts sprung free from their
confinement and the bra straps glided silently down her arms. She took
two steps forward and, bending slightly at the waist, handed me the
cotton garment, her face blushing just slightly. I took the bra from
her with my left hand while I grasped her wrist with my right hand,
preventing her from straightening up.
"There is nothing that you won't do for me--nothing at all," I
said, gripping her wrist tightly, looking straight into her soft,
brown,
delightfully expressive eyes.
Her eyes searched mine for a brief moment. "I know," she
whispered, ending her words with her mouth open in an inviting 'O'.
She was mine so completely it almost unnerved me. "Go to the
corner of the room and raise your skirt up to your waist," I commanded,
letting go of her wrist. She strolled, half-naked, to the corner I had
pointed to and did as I had told her, gathering the blue denim in her
hands and exposing the silky-white panties I had asked her to wear that
morning. I let her stay like that, facing the corner, for a good five
minutes while I studied the smooth curves of her ass, the tightly
clinging undies, and long, sleek, creamy-smooth whiteness of her subtly
parted legs. Without my telling her, she seemed to understand that she
must remain thus, without speaking, without a word of protest, until I
deemed it differently. To imbed this unspoken requirement in her mind,
I moved about the room as if she weren't there, leaving her standing
there like a little school girl being punished.
Finally, I moved behind her, close enough to kiss her soft, brown
hair, but didn't touch her. "Have you been a bad little girl?" I
whispered into her ear.
"Yes," she whimpered.
"What have you done, Beth?"
"I let Bill take me," she replied with an obvious shiver from head
to toe.
"You let him put his cock in something that was rightfully mine,
didn't you?"
"Yes," she said, half-sobbing.
"Would you have let him shove his cock in your ass if he had asked
you to?"
"Please... don't make me answer."
"Would you have sucked his cock?" I persisted.
"Please, David.... I...."
Wanting to hurt her just enough to make my point, I reached around
and grasped her left breast with one hand, flattening it against her
chest as she gasped out loud. I then located the turgid nipple with my
thumb and index finger, squeezed the protuberance until Beth cried in
pain, then pulled it outward from her breast, stretching it to its
limit
as she cocked her head back into the cradle of my neck and moaned in
agony and pleasure.
"Bad girls must be punished!" I exclaimed, still holding the
nipple
tightly, while I palmed her panty-clad ass with my free hand as she
continued to hold her skirt up all the way to her waist.
I ran my hand all over the back of her silky-white undies,
squeezing the firm fleshiness beneath. Her buns were warm and tight
and
felt glorious to the touch. She gasped when I shoved my hand inside
the
garment and grabbed a solid hunk of her behind. She pressed her ass
back toward me, saying, without words, how much she desired to be
punished for her transgressions of the weekend.
I released her nipple from its confinement, letting it snap back
into place, withdrew my hand from inside her panties, then knelt behind
her, my face only inches from her delectable buns. I planted a kiss on
each sweet cheek, over the soft panty-tops, then eased my fingers into
the elastic top of the undies and slowly drew them down, exposing the
perfectly divided split pumpkin, creamy smooth in texture and
alabaster-
white in appearance, full and rounded, seeming to be begging for
release
by whip or strap. Her flimsy panties remained encircled around her
thighs as I returned to her luscious cheeks, this time with two hands,
and kneaded the soon to be defiled flesh with my fingertips.
Beth's moans conceded her state of arousal. She was putty in my
hands now, and I shaped the halves of the twin spheres to my liking,
pushing the flesh outward, upward, side to side, prying the cheeks
apart
from time to time to expose the pink rosebud, so tiny and hidden that I
remained awed by my earlier penetration of it. I took my time and
examined every inch of the fleshy globes, studied the anal button until
its vision became locked in my mind. The buttocks were still flecked
slightly with the results of Bill's earlier whipping.
As I stared at her behind, I said "Your ass was made to be
whipped!
It's perfect, you know. I think I am going to finish what Bill
started.
Would you like that, Beth?"
"YES!" she blurted, pushing the buns back toward me in an open
invitation to have at them. "Oh, David, I need to be whipped!!! I
need
it so bad! I've been such a bad girl."
"Don't move--I'll be right back."
In the dim light of the early evening I went into the woods behind
my condo and found what I believed to be the perfect pacifier--a long,
thin freshly cut birch rod, about three feet long and a quarter-inch
thick. I wanted something that would sting like the devil and remain
etched in her memory from this time forward. I didn't intend to cut or
mark her in any way, but I knew I could wield the birch in such a
manner
as to make her remember this evening forever. "Thin is cruel," I had
once read in a book about flagellation, "but only if it is done with
malice."
Returning to the condo, I found Beth exactly where I had left her,
standing in the corner, skirt raised to her waist, panties lowered to
her thighs, completely naked from the waist up. She was smart enough
not to turn her head and look at me. Later, when our relationship
deepened, I would learn to soak the birch rods in oil before using them
on her, intensifying their sting tenfold. Tonight, I would lead her
slowly down paths she had never dreamed of.
"I want all of your clothes off. When I whip you from now on you
will always be naked. Do you understand?"
"Yes, master."
It sounded odd to hear her call me "Master," but that's exactly
what I was--her MASTER. She was my little slave! I have never asked
her where she picked up the term. I surmise in a book somewhere and it
stuck with her. It didn't matter, I watched her stand in the corner,
shed her skirt, lower her panties the rest of the way down her legs,
and dutifully clasp her hands behind her back. Having finished, she
put
her cute pug nose back into the corner and waited for my next move.
"Open your legs more!" I ordered. "It's more becoming of your
nudity."
The parted legs revealed the brown curls of her bush near the top
of her legs, just below the crack of her ass. She looked so
vulnerable,
so sexy! I made her stay like that for the better part of half an hour
while I did nothing but stare at her fragility from the serenity of my
easy chair. She seemed almost too fragile to apply the cruel birch rod
to.
Finally, it was she who broke the icy silence. "David, are you
going to whip me?" she asked, her tone revealing a little impatience
with me.
"In time," I said softly, moving closer to her and running the
lower half of the birch rod between the supple cheeks of her ass,
splitting the halves of the pumpkin with it.
"Oh!" she cried softly, startled by the thinness of the wood.
"Shhh, it's a birch rod," I whispered in her ear. "Are you sure
you want to be whipped?"
"It will hurt?" she asked.
"More than what Bill did," I replied in all honesty.
"You will stop if I ask?"
"You know I will. But I don't think you'll ask." I continued
running the birch rod up and down, inside the dividing crevice of her
ass cheeks.
She pressed her behind into the rod, invitingly. "I think you're
right, David. I really want to be whipped. I can't explain it.
There's something inside me..."
"We shall see," I interrupted. "Open your mouth."
"Why?"
I touched the top of her shoulder with my fingertips and whispered
into her ear. "I am going to have to gag you for this. I don't want
the neighbors calling the cops."
"How do I tell you to stop if it hurts too much?"
"Just shake your head back and forth. I'll stop. Do you trust
me?"
She turned her head back in my direction, looked at me for a
moment, and then, instead of answering, she merely closed her eyes and
opened her mouth to accept the gag. I had nothing to use save the
panties she had just shed, but they served the purpose well. I stuffed
them well into her mouth, crotch first, so she might taste her own
juices on the silky material. I then brought her to the edge of the
sofa, her hands still clasped behind her back, and had her place her
tummy over it. The position offered her ass to me in all its glory.
Beth was a true submissive, every man's dream. She had complete
trust in me and I knew I could never leave her permanently marked or
scarred. I was capable of playing mind-games with her, but her body,
outwardly, would remain inviolate. It was too beautiful to mark--her
firm, full buttocks were twin spheres of gorgeous, alabaster flesh,
perfectly rounded in just the right places, a pleasure to touch or
view.
Her breasts were not large by any means, but they were capped by coral-
colored, thick, pointed nipples that extended outward in their hardened
state and were, I would find out soon enough, wonderfully sensitive to
pain stimuli, so much so, in fact, that she would often place nipple-
clips on them before one of our "sessions" in order to enhance their
sensitivity.
I drew the birch rod over Beth's proffered buns and ran it back
and
forth, like a violin bow, for several moments, toying with her nerve
endings and building her anticipation of what was about to happen. Her
forehead was buried in the sofa cushion, with the silky-white panties
sticking out of the corners of her mouth. I lifted the rod several
inches away from the globes and held it there, watching Beth clench her
ass cheeks in anticipation of my first lash. Instead, I laid the rod
back across her behind and, as I pressed it slightly into the pale
skin,
began moving it slowly in a path from the top of her ass to the middle
of her thighs, teasing the nerve endings while delegating without words
the boundaries the rod might enjoy.
"Open your legs more!" I ordered, then watched her labia part
stickily between them. Her delicately hued, pink-colored vaginal
entrance was filled with transparent juices, with a few of the hairs
that had been surrounding the opening sporting tiny gobs of off-white
"cum-drops". Her toes barely touched the carpet. Her legs were sleek
and well-proportioned. Her back was already warm with a thin veneer of
glistening perspiration. Her breathing was slightly tremulous, a sign
of her anticipation.
I merely flicked my wrist for the first stroke which landed right
in the middle of her buttocks with a louder-than-it-hurt crack of the
thin wood against the supple flesh, rippling the skin only slightly and
bringing but a quietly muffled "MMMFFFFF" from behind Beth's
panty-gag. A thin, slightly pink line appeared almost immediately
where
the bow had stuck the violin. Her toes were curled now as they pressed
harder into the carpet.
Buoyed by Beth's stoic acceptance of her first taste of the rod,
I
reached back and flicked the pain-giver three times in rapid
succession,
each of them with the same intensity, but all of them just a bit harder
than the first. I was careful to apply each stroke one below the
other.
Having offered the last little cut, I stopped to take in Beth's
reaction. This time she made absolutely no sound, to my surprise, but
with each lovely ripple of her ass cheeks she drove her curled toes
into
the carpet in quick, staccato movements, her little way of trying to
fend off the increasing pain in her snow-capped buttocks.
I ran my fingertips over the light-colored stripes that I had just
placed on her voluptuous backside. Her skin was warm to the touch; she
shivered slightly at the tinge of gentleness. "Oh how your ass was
made
to be whipped!" I exclaimed as I traced one thin line from side to side
with my index finger.
Her breathing was becoming a bit more labored now, with pronounced
exhalations through her chest and nostrils. I pried the lower half of
the cheeks apart, exposing the anal ring, and touched the crinkled
opening lightly with the tip of the birch rod. "MMM.....MMM!"
whimpered
Beth behind the gag, afraid that I might penetrate the tiny orifice
with
the thin wood. Instead, I let the cheeks bounce back to normalcy, as I
withdrew the rod from the doorway, making a mental note that I would
once again test the unbelievable resiliency of the opening with my cock
later in the evening.
With my left palm resting right at the crest of her buttocks, just
over the top of the crack of her ass, I drove the birch rod across the
tender flesh with a loud crack, followed immediately by an agonizing,
softly muffled shriek from deep within Beth's throat. At the
same time, she raised both feet off the floor and flailed them in the
air for several seconds. It was obvious that this stroke had been a
real "stinger."
When she shook her head from side to side, in consonance with her
toes, I thought she was telling me to stop. "Too hard?" I asked as I
reached back and pulled the panties out of her mouth so I could hear
her
reply.
"NO!" she blurted as she panted loudly. "Oh, it hurts, it hurts,
it hurts!" she cried, still flailing her legs. "But please don't stop.
I can feel it building deep inside me, David." She breathed heavily.
I sought to return the panties to her mouth. "No, please," she
begged, "I want you to hear me after you whip me. Can you do it a bit
harder?"
"Suit yourself. Just remember the neighbors." I reached further
back this time, goaded by her desire to feel even more pain, and drove
the birch rod smartly into the area where her lower ass cheeks met the
top of her thighs, an area I knew to be more sensitive to pain stimuli.
I was right. She let out a long, agonizing howl, fortunately into
the sofa cushion, and flailed her legs again, her heels actually
kicking
her own buttocks
in the process.
Beth's scream lasted a good ten seconds, punctuated by gasps for
breath, followed (incredibly!) by, "Oh, YES! That's good. It hurts so
good!
Give me more, Master!"
The thin, red streak that covered each side of her lower buttocks
looked as
painful as it must have felt. It welted almost immediately, testifying
to the intensity of
the stroke. How could she want more? Where was her limit? Was there
a
limit? If there was, I needed to test it, and she was begging me to do
so. So, without warning, I gave her four well-aimed lashes, all of
them
bitingly harsh, in quick succession, without pausing, each being
delivered to a different area of her upturned ass. To my amazement,
she
made absolutely no sound until the last stroke was delivered, with an
extra fierceness. To the contrary, with each lash she seemed to raise
her behind higher in an effort to accept the searing pain. With the
final lash, she let out with a long "AHHHHHHHH!" that I knew at once
was
a mixture of pain and pleasure.