

Sometime over the next few weeks we had agreed that we were a couple. Almost every 
night I would head over to her house, where I would spend the majority of my evening. 
Most times I would spend the night. 

Binding her in stocks and taking her ass in brutal fashion became the norm for me. We 
did make love in gentle fashion, from time to time. However, neither of us was left with 
complete satisfaction. We always followed up our gentle love making with a rough 
session of bondage and anal sex.

After several months of being a couple, we found that the same activities, night after 
night, had left us in a rut. Man does not live by bread alone, after all. Unfortunately, I was 
not experienced in the ways of BDSM and neither was she, really.

True, she had her kinks and knew what she wanted, for the most part. However, that is a 
far cry from the knowledge of experience. So, unable to answer our own questions of 
how to enliven things, we sallied forth into the great unknown. 

We were at a sex shop in Studio City when we discovered a nifty little device. It was an 
inflatable butt plug that she wanted badly. Of course, I bought it. 

As soon as we got into her car we decided to utilize our new toy. Fortunately, it was night 
and the windows on her car were mildly tinted. No sooner had we closed the car doors 
than she bent over the seat and lifted her skirt and revealed her naked bottom.

After a brief moment of mild shock, I pulled the plug from its packaging. Then, after 
having her suck the plug for a moment, I slid it in her ass. Once it was inserted to its 
proper depth, I attached the pump's hose to the valve on the plug and inflated it.

It was near to half capacity when I was stopped pumping. I had thought to inflate it more 
but her moans were not the moans of a woman feeling pleasure. Frankly, I was fearful 
that inflating it more tear her ass wide-open. So, rather than see how much she could 
take, I desisted my pumping, pulled the air hose from the valve and had her turn around 
and sit down. 

Tears were running from her eyes and she was a bit ginger when she took her seat. Still 
she endured, smiling the smile of someone torn between emotions.

After fumbling a bit, she managed to insert the car's key into the ignition switch and 
bring the car to life. After only a block of driving she pulled over, insisting I drive. It 
seems that she was unable to concentrate well enough to command the vehicle safely.

The drive home was interesting, to say the least. Every little bump or pot hole provided 
her with sensations that brought groans and guttural outburst from her lips. I was never 
quite certain if those noises were from pain, pleasure or both. I was, however, certain of 
my intense arousal.

About thirty minutes later, we arrived at her home. By this time, her breathing was 
shallow and she was leaning against the car door, eyes closed. She did not move, nor did 
she seem likely to. 

I exited the car and went to her side to open her door. Wary of her condition, I was ready 
to catch her when she began to fall out of the car. She grabbed hold of me, her hands 
clutching my arm, and begged me not to let her fall. Such was her predicament that she 
could hardly walk. Consequently, most of her weight was placed in the safety of my care.

The walk to her doorstep was a slow one. Each small step was made with great strain and 
with much panting. By the time we reached her door she was shaking, fighting to keep 
her legs.
 
After unlocking the front door I swept her into my arms, carrying her across the 
threshold. Then I took her to her room and sat her on her bed. She remained in a seated 
position just long enough for me to remove my arms from around. Then she flopped back 
to lie on her back. eyes closed and with tears streaking down her face. 

I was a bit unsure of what she was experiencing. I had no real understanding of the 
pleasure/pain principles of BDSM. In fact, I had no idea how much pain or pleasure was 
enough or too much. All I knew was that I was excited and worried, all at once.

I sat beside her, stroking her cheek and wiping the tears from her eyes. I felt as if I should 
do or say something. Furthermore, I was feeling a bit guilty at being so aroused at her 
discomfort. 

"Are you all right?" I asked her, wondering if I should deflate the plug and remove it.

Her eyes fluttered open and focused on me. A small smile crossed her face. A moment 
later her eyes closed and the smile vanished. 

"I need to cum and I can't," she whispered, in a high and delicate voice. "It's too much. I 
can't cum this way but I need to...I need the plug out so I can cum."

It was then that I realized that one could suffer from pleasure. And then, something 
clicked. Suddenly, I knew what I would do and I knew that she would suffer for it.

As I reached underneath her, to position her in the middle of the bed, I began to wonder if 
I would feel the plug when I fucked her. Surely I would. The plug had already stretched 
her sphincter to the size of a silver dollar, after all. 

She was positioned in the center of the bed, legs spread. I sat beside her for a moment, 
stroking her hair and taking in the moment. Then I lifted her skirt to reveal the nakedness 
beneath. 

She was moaning and whispering words to me as I began to move into position, between 
her legs. I knew not what she was speaking of. I did not care, really. All I knew that I 
wanted to take her as she was. 

Finally, when I was kneeling between the legs that I had spread, I told her that I was 
going to fuck her. 

The words that escaped her lips meant little to me. I wanted this and I was going to have 
it.  And after pulling off my pants, I slipped down on top of her. She moaned as I began 
moving up and down against her. Then, after an eternity, my cock slid into her and over 
the bulge that pressed against my cock.

Slow long strokes turned to fast hard strokes. Gentle caresses turned to rough mauling. I 
was fucking her as hard as I could, as a dog might fuck his mate. 

I stopped, abruptly to stare into her eyes. They were lifeless and empty. Her breath was 
stifled and low and her voice a thin rasp. She was helpless, her body betraying her and 
laying waste to any self-control. 

Again, I started fucking her. Her blouse had been ripped off by now. I don't know when. 
I didn't remember doing it. But for her skirt and a few scraps of bra and blouse, she was 
naked.

I felt that familiar rise of pressure and the beginnings of the wave that would be my 
orgasm. But it was too soon. I was not ready to give up this feeling. I wanted it to last, 
never having experienced what I was now experiencing.

I stopped thrusting, remaining inside of her. I was panting and sweating, praying that the 
wave of pleasure would subside. 

Her whispers began anew. She pleaded with me to pull the plug from her ass that she 
might be able to cum. Her words excited me and brought me close to climax. I refused to 
allow it. I was not ready. I had no desire to give up on this moment. I was unwilling to 
surrender this newfound power as bringer of this uncommon suffering.

Finally the wave receded and I began again. I was thrusting into her. My cock sliding 
over the swell of the plug thrilled me, as did her thin pleading cries for release.

The wave built again. This time I did not stop. I was ready. And then I shot my first fiery 
load of cum into her. I was growling, firing salvos of cum into her, my back arched as I 
came. And then, it was over.
When I awoke I was still on top of her. I lifted my head to see her, still awake, tears still 
falling from the corners of her dead eyes. 

I kissed her lips. She did not kiss back. And, when I pushed myself from her body, she 
did not move. The only sign of life, other than tears, was her shallow breathing and the 
occasional blinking of her eyes. 

I ran my hand across her body and watched goose bumps run across her body. Her breath 
became stuttered, slightly, and I knew that she had had enough. It was time to release her 
from her suffering.

Slipping off the bed, I reached down to retrieve my jeans. I searched the pockets until I 
found the means to her release; a small key. Then I reached down and spread the cheeks 
of her ass to attach it to the valve that protruded from the plug. A moment later the air in 
the plug was released with a whoosh.

She stiffened as I pulled the plug from her ass. Her feet bent up and her hands clenched in 
a fist, nails biting into her palms. Her back arched up off of the bed as her eyes closed 
tightly, screwing up her face as if in the throes of a painful and terrible death. Then the 
scream let forth from her, a terrible wail of pain and pleasure.

Several minutes later, after her orgasm had passed, she closed her eyes and fell sound 
asleep. I leaned down and kissed her forehead. Then, I pulled the covers over her to the 
release of sleep.

I was sitting on the couch, watching television when she came out of the bedroom. She 
was naked and bore the look of exhaustion. Still, she was beautiful. In a moment, and on 
shaky legs, she came to curl up beside me, her head in my lap.

Over the next month, we fucked constantly. It was always a rough and tumble affair and I 
always made certain to cause her pain.  Sometimes I would bind her to her bed and other 
times I would not. And there were, of course, occasions when I would make her suffer 
the torment of using the plug.

On the rare occasion that we did not fool around at her house, we usually did so in 
precarious positions and places. Most often, we would find ourselves on a darkened road 
in the middle of the night. 

After exiting the car I would bend her over, hands on the ground with her ass in the air. 
Then I would take her ass in brutal fashion. Sometimes she would cum and other times 
she would not. It did not seem to matter to her, so long as she could suffer and was taken 
with force.

To say that I was having the time of my life would be an understatement. Women like 
this do not materialize into a person's life on a daily basis. Hell, they hardly ever 
materialize over a lifetime. But, she had materialized in my life. And I was enjoying her 
as best I could.

We had been together for about a year when things began to get a bit tense. We had spent 
virtually all of our free time together, fucking. Her appetite for sex was insatiable. And, 
while I enjoyed her appetites, I could not compete or keep up.

Also, I had begun to miss hanging out with friends, my studies were suffering and my 
grades had been falling far short of my expectations. When I attempted to slow things 
down and spend some time away from her she would not hear of it. She had enough 
money for us both. She could support us both, for the rest of our lives, so there was no 
need for me to finish college. Sadly, I was far from being in agreement with her.

And so, after many fights, break ups, reconciliation's and nights on the phone, we called 
it quits. Or, I should say, I called it quits. I needed to finish school and I would not be 
able to do so with her demands. It was a sad day for me. But, I knew it was necessary if I 
was to achieve my goals.

For the next several months she called me, periodically. Every time she called she would 
beg to get back together. Every time she called I would tell her to leave me be. My 
mantra to her, during these calls, was the lie that I didn't love her as she loved me.  

It pained me get rid of her, but I had little choice. She would never understand my need 
for an education and a life outside of our relationship and I would never finish school if 
we kept up this way. Eventually, she gave up and stopped calling. It was a sad day for 
me. But, I knew it was for the best.

Over the next several years I had several girlfriends and rarely thought of Ariel. She was 
in the past and I intended to leave her there. Unfortunately, all of these women had left 
me wanting both sexually and emotionally. 

Three years, to the day, after Ariel and I had broken up, I ran into her at a restaurant in 
Woodland Hills. I was with a date who was boring the hell out of me. I thought my night 
would never end and I was considering suicide. Ariel, I found out later, was suffering 
from a similarly terrible fate. 

We ran into each other on a trip to the bathroom. After a quick hug and an exchange of 
niceties and complaints about our dates, we exchanged numbers and agreed to call each 
other.

That night, after I returned home, I found a message on my answering machine. It was 
Ariel and she wanted me to call her. As the message played out, the phone rang. It was 
Ariel. 

We talked until six in the morning, reminiscing and sharing our tales over the last three 
years. As it turns out, Ariel had delved further into the world of BDSM. 
I still knew relatively little about the subject, having spent most of the last three years 
finishing my degree. She was more than willing to educate me with stories of the life that 
she had led after we had parted.

A few months after she gave up on me she ran into an old friend. During their 
conversation, he had revealed that he knew of a few places that catered to people with 
interests similar to her own. Of course, she decided investigate.

Her investigations proved fruitful and she managed to gain more incite into herself and 
her nature. And, she found that she was not alone in needing pain and force for sexual 
gratification

She also found that there were many people willing to take her in and give her the 
experiences that she so craved. Of course, this had thrilled her.

Eventually, she fell in with a married couple who led a lifestyle that intrigued her. 
Sometime after she met them, they began having non-sexual BDSM sessions together. As 
she grew closer to them, she became their full time slave and pet. 

Over the next year, she learned and experienced many things that she had not 
thought possible. Still, during this time of discovery, she found that her life was wanting 
for something intangible – something that she couldn't quite identify. And, though she 
cared and respected her masters, she eventually left, seeking out that missing piece.

Her story was more than interesting to me. I was fascinated by all of the details of her life 
as a slave. She had acted out the part of a pet, barking and rolling over and doing tricks as 
a dog might. She had played fetch and was made to eat and drink from a dog dish. 

After that conversation, I knew that I would have to see her again. This time, it would be 
different, I told myself. I had no school and no studies. All I had was my job and plenty 
of time for Ariel. 

Soon after that conversation, we began dating again. This time we took it slow. In fact, 
our first few dates ended with just a few kisses and a hug. The heat, however, was still 
there. And, it was clear that we would revisit our old habits, relatively soon.

It was on the night of July fourth when we re-acquainted ourselves with each other's 
bodies. We were anxious and hot, sweat pouring off of us as we made-out in her car. We 
attempted to make love right there, in her car, when we smacked the horn. 

We jumped, frightened at the sudden disturbance. Dogs barked and lights, across the 
street, came on. We fell together, laughing like teenagers. Then she whispered, "Let's go 
inside."

At the click of her door, I grabbed her and pulled her to me, kissing her hard. Then I 
picked her up and took her into her room, flinging her on to her bed and stripping her 
clothes from her in rough and tumble fashion.

She struggled a bit, my efforts jerking her back and forth. I had thought, because of her 
struggles, that she might not want a rough taking on our first night after being reunited. 
But when I had finally gotten her naked, I could see the glistening between her legs that 
told me I was not on the wrong track.

I pulled her from the bed and pushed her to kneel at my feet. I was hard as I had ever 
been. Still clothed, I unzipped my jeans and pulled my cock from my pants and pushed it 
into her mouth.

In short order, I was pushing my cock into her throat, thrusting with regular and deep 
strokes. There was no struggle for breath nor was there any effort to pull away. She 
merely stayed put, her hands behind her as my hands held her head steady.

Then the orgasm began to build. I tried to hold it back but she would not allow it. Sensing 
my impending orgasm, she slid her hands from behind her back and up my legs to my 
ass. She dug her fingers into my flesh and pulled herself against me until her lips met my 
body. I felt my cock hit the back of her throat. 

Her tongue, lips and throat were working in unison, drawing my to climax. And then it 
was on me. I groaned and tensed my muscles, helpless in the throws of a powerful 
orgasm.

As is always the case, the feeling was over too soon. I was bent over her, my cock still in 
her mouth. I was panting and using the bed for support. I felt as if I had been hit in the 
head, jelly-legged by a powerful blow.

Finally, I pulled my cock from her mouth and moved to sit on the edge of the bed. She 
was still on her knees and smiling up at me. She slid to me and began licking my cock. I 
shivered and almost fell from the bed.  I reached out and pushed her back, unable to take 
anymore.

Then she rose and kissed me lightly on the cheek. And, slowly, she pushed me down on 
the bed. I did not fight. Then, she helped me from my clothes and snuggled to me.

It was morning. I borrowed her phone to call in sick to work so that I might spend the day 
with Ariel. I was curious about her oral abilities. She and I had never come close to 
having oral sex during our previous time together. 

So, I asked her about her oral skills and how she became so skillful.

As it turned out, the couple that she had been a slave for had an oral fetish. During that 
time she had learned how to please both men and women. Most nights, she related, had 
been spent with her mouth on her mistress' pussy or on her master's cock. Sometimes, 
she they put her to work pleasing friends of theirs during dinner parties or other events.

Pleasing women was relatively easy, she told me. Licking and sucking in various rhythms 
was all that it really took. Add a little struggle, as if she were suffocating or suffering, and 
most women could be made to cum quite quickly. 

It was the men who were the most difficult. She explained that she did not need to vary 
things so much, as with women. However, she did have to learn to breathe between 
thrusts and to get past her natural gag reflex. 

Even after learning to do those things there was the constant change of thrusting rhythms 
that could make things difficult. The most difficult thing to learn was to take a blast of 
cum and let it trickle down her throat without trying to swallow. Swallowing, before the 
cock was withdrawn or before the orgasm had past, could lead to severe fits of coughing.

My own experiences with other women had been less that satisfying, all of my love 
interests being quite prudish. And so, I asked questions as a child might. Every question 
and answer led to new questions and then to others. 
 
By the time I had exhausted all of my questions I was a bit aroused. My cock was getting 
hard and I was nearly ready for action. 

Sensing this, she stopped me in my tracks, grabbing my arm. Then she informed me that 
she had not been taken roughly, or anally, since I had last taken her. Too, she asked that I 
be a bit more gentle than usual. She told me that she would need a bit of time to adjust to 
our old ways.  

I was a bit perplexed. "Wouldn't a slave be taken hard and anally whenever her masters 
wanted it?" I asked her. And then she iterated that their fetish was oral sex, bondage and 
humiliation. And that could all be achieved with a gentle touch. 

Of course, I asked about her other lovers, only to find that there were none. She had had 
many suitors, but had bedded none. 

I thought on this for a few moments, wondering if I should, in fact, treat her more gently 
than I intended. But as her words resonated in my head, my cock came alive again and I 
knew what I would do.

I reached out my hand and stroked her hair. She closed her eyes, sighing and smiling. 
Then I pulled her to me and kissed her. 

Forcefully, I pushed her head down to my cock, grasping the hair on both sides of her 
head. She did not fight, compliant to my wishes. 

After only a few minutes of mouth fucking, I shoved her to her back. Moving quickly, I 
spread her legs and kneeled between them. I slid my hands under her knees and lifted her 
legs, pushing her thighs to her chest.

She was breathing hard, excitement coursing through her. She knew that I was not going 
to take her gently. And, though she did not fight me, it was clear that she was frightened 
at what was coming.

Reaching up, I grabbed hold of her ankles with my left hand. Then I grabbed my cock 
and pushed it against her asshole. With a steady and deliberate motion, I pushed my cock 
into her ass, until I could push no more.

In the brief moment before I began my thrusts she gulped air. Her beautiful face was 
marred with an expression of pain. I thought for a moment that I did not care about her 
pain. Nothing could have been further from the truth. I did care. I needed her pain.

As I began pumping into her, she began screaming anew. Each thrust elicited new 
screams and new facial expression. Her hands were spread wide, gripping the sheets on 
the bed. Tears were streaming down her face and she was begging me to be gentle. 

I expected that she would try to stop me. Any moment she would fight against this pain. 
But she did not. Instead, she suffered, as she always did.

Secured in my own control over her, I commanded she reach up and take hold of her 
ankles. She obeyed. My hands free, I grabbed hold of her thighs, gripping them tightly. 
My thrusts became harder and faster, more punishing than before. Still, she made no 
move to free herself.

The wave built gradually, this time, giving me time to savor the moment. And, unlike so 
many others, it lingered. Even after I was spent, it lingered, leaving me bent over and 
crippled. 

After I had recovered, I rolled off of her and stared towards the ceiling. My breath was 
still short and I was covered in sweat. A few minutes later, it dawned on me that she was 
still holding her ankles. I grinned, realizing that there must have been more to what she 
had told me about her life of slavery. I made a mental note to ask for more of her story. 
Then, I told her to let go of her ankles and relax.

Later that evening we went out to dinner. Over dinner we talked about things of the past 
and of the present. And then, over a glass of red wine, we decided to try us out again. As 
of that moment, we were an official couple.  

We had been together for about a month when I found something that I thought might fit 
her quite well. I had purchased a bondage magazine at an adult bookstore and had 
discovered a toy that I had not thought of before. It was a butt plug with a tail like a 
bunny. 
Six weeks later, when it arrived at my door, I presented it to her as a gift. She was thrilled 
with it, immediately removing it from its packaging and begging me to install it for her. 
Of course, I did. 

She looked tremendous, wearing nothing but the bunny tail. And her hopping around and 
wiggling her nose, as if she were a bunny, drew the expected laughter. However, it was 
the beginning of new ideas.

End Part 2
