7 comments/ 59052 views/ 38 favorites Sarah's Journey into Submission By: sarah37 PROLOGUE I was 18 when I had my first real taste of what it was like to be a submissive. Before then, I had experimented, mostly on my own, trying out little things here and there and experimenting some when I masturbated. I'd get my boyfriend to tie my wrists to the bedpost and spank me, but I could tell his heart was never really into it and I wanted more. After returning home one day after I had finished a heavy session of aerobics, I collapsed in a pile of sweat and exhaustion on my bed. Too tired to sleep and too exhausted to do anything else, I did what came naturally, and started rubbing myself between my legs with my fingers. "God I'm horny!" I said rolling onto my side and rubbing a little harder. I then sat up with a gleam in my eye and made my way toward my dresser and pulled out several special handcuffs I had recently bought, a cloth gag, a large, black vibrator, and several other items before settling down back on the bed. "God, what at a bod" I hissed, slapping my ass and talking as though I were someone else, someone who was in control, someone who was crude, primal and dangerous. "You need a good FUCK!" I continued groping my breasts. Jumping up on my knees, I cuffed my feet, then inserted the large plaything, which took a few erotically, agonizing minutes. I pulled a G- String up and into place, covering the toy and preventing it from escaping. I then then picked up a leather belt with several rings orbiting the outside and affixed it around my waist. Picking up the gag, I placed it over my mouth and tightened it around my head with more straps. The gag was a specialty item that was made from a soft cloth pad attached to a firm, leather backing and held in place by straps. The pad snugly covered my mouth and muffled even the loudest screams. I preferred this kind of gagging over a ball gag, which made me drool and made my jaw tired. After gagging myself, I cuffed my hands behind my back and to the ring on the back of the belt. I was now completely restrained and felt absolutely wonderful. With a dexterous click, I pressed the play button and lay back as the low hum of the vibrator began to build. My naked, bound body surged and rolled about slowly as my mind raced with fantasies, sending waves of erotic stimulation through me as the vibrator added to the tension, slowly building its vibrations like it was designed to. Each thing I thought of was more shocking and exhilarating than the next, dreams of being placed into helpless submission. I rolled about moaning and surging as my climax grew closer and closer... "MMMMMMmmmm!" I moaned under my gag and twisted around on the bed, still close but not quite ready yet to step over the edge to embrace the orgasm that was waiting. Reaching between my legs as best I could, I groped at the cord for the vibrator and fished the remote into my cuffed hands. "Maybe a little higher..." I moaned, then winced as the low vibrations made my sweat with building sensation. Suddenly, a never-before-felt-sensation of intense vibration shot through my pelvis, sending me bucking about in panic. Looking around so I could see the dial, I had accidently pegged it past the 10 mark. I normally enjoyed a heavy workout of 4. Bucking about on the bed and groaning from the now intense vibrations coming from between my legs, I went hog wild for an instant and the remote flew from my grasp to crash to the floor. It was now on its full 120 volt setting. My hips rolled slowly and erotically as the toy drove me closer toward a now unwanted and uncontrollable climax. "Got to gett... itttt.... ouutttt," I thought trying to hold back the flood. Soon I was frantically twisting about, struggling as the sensation from the vibrator began to overwhelm me and an instant later, I screamed uncontrollably as my climax nearly tore me apart. My hips shot upward, pushing the mattress and box spring nearly off their frame and me to the floor. I rolled about on the heavy, double bed until it was a mess of blankets, pillows and stuffed toys. Being multi-orgasmic, I continued to violently pound my hips about as wave after wave forced me down again and again and panic filled my desperate mind as I knew too many climaxes like this would certainly dominate her. It was some time later before I was able to roll off the bed to the floor, and another little while after that until I could find the keys to the cuffs and get out of my self-imposed bondage. Dazed, I staggered rom my bedroom some time later, clutching my pelvis just below my stomach and holding my head. It had been nearly two agonizing hours since I first knelt down on the bed and then spent the rest of the time almost helpless as the vibrator continued its relentless work. My only saving grace was the fact the toy was not designed to run at such a voltage and its poor internal workings had finally seized. No worse for wear though, I was a little "damaged" by the experience. At some point during the ordeal, the toy and the bondage had been too much and I had succumbed to its effects. The constant climaxes had pushed me over the edge, beyond my ability to cope or resist, and I was dominated for a time. I staggered about afterwards, my mouth hanging open and my eyes glazed over with a veil of haziness as I sauntered slowly into the living room. I dropped to my knees, unable to comprehend or care about anything. At that point I would have obeyed anyone without question, performed any act, allowed anything to happen to me. I collapsed utterly defeated. An hour later, the oppressive sensation had lifted and I returned to the bedroom. "Can't ever let that happen again," I mumbled as I clutched my head. "I can't believe I lost to a vibrator," I winced as I picked up the now broken plastic toy, throwing it in the bin. Chapter 1 I was 19 when it all began, and it started with an ad in the newspaper, which read: "Obedient live-in maid wanted to service the needs of upper class lady". It was a time in life when I was still experimenting with things sexually, and I could read between the lines and understood what the subtext of the ad was really looking for. It other words, it was another way of saying "Mistress searching for a slave" but without really coming out to say it. Besides whatever else the actual job would entail, I had just started university so I could have used the money, and I was pretty open sexually so as nervous as I was dialling the number, I was also kind of excited too. "Hello," a lady answered. "Yes, my name is Sarah and I'm calling in reference to your job opening for a maid... Is it still available?" I asked nervously. "Yes, it is. Do you understand the key to this job is obedience?" the lady asked. "Yes ma'am, I understand. I have always been a very obedient worker and would love to work as your maid." It was a brief conversation, but we both knew what the other was talking about, again without having to say it, and we were on the same page as it were. "Briefly describe yourself to me," the lady asked. "You mean my employment history?" I questioned. "No my dear, what do you look like." "Oh, well, honestly, I'm only 19, but I really need this job and I'll work real hard and do exactly as you say..." I rambled nervously, fearing my age would bring an end to the interview. "Calm down my dear, 19 is nice. Yes, actually, 19 is very nice. Go on my dear, tell me more." "Well, I have long brown hair, I'm 5 foot 9 inches tall, and I weigh about 130 pounds. All my friends say I'm very pretty and..." "O.K. my dear," the lady cut in. "I think I'd like to see you in person. When are you available?" "Right now!" I said eagerly. "Very well, be here within the hour," the lady instructed, giving me the directions to her home. I hung-up the phone and let out a hushed yelp of excitement. I soon arrived at the ladies' luxurious apartment in the heart of downtown and rang the doorbell. After a brief time, the door opened. There in the doorway stood a tall, sexy, raven-haired lady in her mid to upper thirties wearing a short black silk robe. Her hair was cut in a short high fashion style that really accentuated her pretty face. She was a slender long-legged woman with a sleek hourglass figure. Her sheer robe draped gently from her large firm breast to the belt tied around her thin waist, then down over her round shapely buttocks. "Come in my dear," the woman said smiling with approval. Stunned by the woman's beauty, I nervously stepped into the room. As I stood in the middle of the entry, the woman slowly walked around me visually inspecting every inch of my body. Although still relatively young, I was pretty well-developed by that point, and was met with re-assuring approval. "Yes, you are a pretty girl... and only 19... Yes, I think you'll work out just fine. "I won't fail you," I said earnestly. "So easy to promise," she said. "You don't know what a bitch I can be." "Maybe I won't mind finding out." I said, not believe the words that had come out of my own mouth. What perverse impulse had inspired this impudent remark? Her answer was a laugh, full throated and deep. My pussy throbbed with yearning as she walked around me, taking in all of my curves. "If my instincts are correct, you are most definitely the right girl for the position." The woman walked back in front of me. Placing her finger under my chin, lifting my head slightly, she stared deep into my eyes. "Are you willing to obey my every command – no matter how unusual it may be?" I looked up into her beautiful dark and hungry eyes and found myself very aroused by the woman's gaze and her ultimate request. I paused briefly and wondered to myself what could this woman possibly request. What would a 'yes' answer really mean for her. "Yes ma'am, I will obey your wishes and I will do anything you request of me," I responded in a very subservient voice. "Very, very good, my dear. I think you will work out quite well." The "interview" went on for quite some time after that, as we proceeded into the dining room and she asked me "the other kind of questions". "So – how long have you been a sexual submissive?" There it was – so bluntly stated, the plain fact that she had been so quick to recognize. This was no time to deny anything. An honest question must be honestly answered. I grinned shyly. "All my life, I think." She laughed at that. "Well, I was born to be a bitch, so I guess that we are a matched pair." It was an oddly intimate moment, an exchange of confidences between two women. "Have you submitted to others?" I shrugged. "My boyfriend in high school spanked me a couple of times, but his heart was never really in it." "You're not a virgin then." "No." "Have you sucked cock?" It was the second phased of the job interview, I realized. She was asking me to list my qualifications, and the thought of refusing to answer never entered my mind. "Yes." "Did you just nibble on the tip, or take him to the hilt?" "All of it," I tossed my hair saucily. She wasn't going to rattle me. "I enjoyed swallowing every inch." "Did you swallow his cum as well?" She was smiling like a kitten full of milk. "Yes," I replied, and by that time the juice running out of my puss was starting to tickle. "I swallowed every drop." "And?" This caught me off-guard, but only for a moment as I realized what more she wanted. "I sucked every last drop of his cum and smiled while I did it, and asked him for more afterward." She wanted me to play the harlot for her, and I would do my best. "Have you ever been fucked up the ass?" A sudden chill passed over me. Part of it was the fact that anal intercourse was the one subject I had not been prepared to discuss. Some secret pleasures are too vile to admit. The other part of it was a sudden suspicion that this was not a casual question, mean to season the stew of confession. She really wanted to know. I could feel my sphincter instinctively contract. "No. Well – not with a – you know, a real..." And there it was, the topic I had be so dreading but at the same time the most excited about, and she drilled me for the next several minutes, finding out exactly what I had done up to that point, with regards to my bum. "Did you like having those fingers wriggling around inside you?" Having found a subject that made me uneasy, and wet between the legs at the same time, she was determined to explore it. I took a deep breath. I sensed that this interview could represent a turning point in my life. I didn't want to blow it by refusing to be candid, and so I was. She nodded her approval at my answers, and pondered the information while she broke a piece of muffin off and held it out to me. I needed no command, and knew instinctively that it would be improper for me to simply reach out and take it in my hand. I dropped to all fours instead, and crawled to her. I knelt between her legs and opened my mouth. "An anal virgin then," she mused. "Interesting. Now I want you to listen. I knew who you were the first time I heard your voice, and you confirmed it when you arrived at my door. You've got this sweet and sour quality about you that is positively delicious. You're a demure little slut, excellent raw material. You were drawn to me like a moth to a flame, but let's cut the bullshit shall we? I want to be clear," she continued. "I am an experience player and you are not. The game I propose is no game for sissies. It's serious, like professional sports of high stakes poker. There are rituals to be observed, tests to be passed, and levels of play. As your skill increases, the game becomes more difficult. There are risks, but all worthwhile activities carry risk. I will take every precaution to protect your physical health, but there are dangers to your psyche. You could become too involved and lose your identity, growing dependent, unable to function anymore in the real world. You might become reckless and ignore warning signs of trauma." "I'm not afraid," I said. "Not now," she agreed. "but later on you may battle panic. You will have one choice available to you – stay or go. You are free to leave anytime, but if you stay, you follow my rules." "I understand, Mrs. Lucy." I wanted to ask what the rules were, but I knew that she would tell me when the time was right. Right now, I wanted her to know that I was willing to bear whatever burdens she requires, if only I could be near her. "What I propose," she said, sipping her tea and breaking off another piece of muffin for me. 'is a program of systematic humiliation and corporal punishment. The severity of your trials will increase, and when you think that your powers of endurance have reached their limits, I will be there to coax you a little farther. At time you will be struck with a sense of the absurd, sometimes you will wallow in self-pity. You must banish these feeling and trust me to know what is best for you. I will be strict, the rules will be arbitrary, and the penalties for breaking them will be severe. You will surrender all right and privileges, you will be a toy that I play with, and I like to play rough." And so it continued for the next little while, her explaining to me in broad strokes what would be involved, what would be entailed and what things would be like, and I swear I was sitting in a puddle of my own juices by the time she stood up. "I will take a shower now," she said. "use this time to consider your choices carefully. If I find you here when I return, it will be because you want to and I will assume that you have accepted my propositions and treat you accordingly. Have another cup of tea and think it over. To help you with your decision, I will remind you that I haven't forgotten your impudence earlier, and I don't intend to forgive it." She disappeared into the bathroom, and I poured myself another cup of tea with a shaking hand. This scene had, quite honestly, filled my dreams for years, but now that it was upon me, I didn't know if I had the courage to seize the moment. Her promise that I could leave at any time heartened me. Had I been fooling myself for all these years with empty fantasies? Would I fail her in the end? I knew that I would never be free of my desires unless I played out this hand. Chapter 2 When she returned some time later, my empty cup was back on the table and I was there kneeling on the floor, my hands behind my head, knees wide, breasts sticking out, ass high, letting my body language announce my decision. "Horny little slut, aren't you?" she commented. I could sense her standing over me. I didn't dare look up. "Yes, Ms. Lucy," I whispered, unable to trust my voice. Truth was, I felt a little cheated by the whole thing. I had wanted her to make stay and do it, not offer me a way out or give me a choice. "Call me 'Mistress', or 'Ma'am, unless I tell you otherwise. Do you understand?" the woman questioned. "Yes Mistress, I do," I replied. How natural the title sounded. It came easily, a reverent susurrus, a mantra. "Good," she commented as she took a seat. "Now strip for me. I want to see you." Okay – I wasn't too surprised. I knew that Mrs. Lucy would get around to it sooner or later, but I thought maybe she would choose a more private time and place, maybe work a little moonlight and roses seduction number. I didn't expect her to have me peel down in the kitchen while she stood watching. There wasn't much to take off and I was bare in a minute. Mrs. Lucy was a Braille reader I guess. She felt me all over, I mean everywhere; twisting my nipples and stroking a finger into my slit. (Yes, I was damp, if you must know,) "Turn around and spread your legs please." I know. It was my time to say "Fuck you very much!" and gran my clothes that I had just folded nearly on the kitchen table, and get the hell out of there. I was curious though, swept along in a current, to abuse a cliché, and her finer had just plucked my clit like a guitar string. It was still thrumming. I turned around and spread my legs. "From now on, you must never cum without permission. You will obey all command without question, and accept all punishment without complaint." Still behind me, I felt her bare toes tickling up and down between my legs, feeling the moisture pooling there. "You will strive to be accessible to me in all ways." Her big toe moved up and poked at my anus. "Ah! That made you clench, didn't it?" I didn't say anything in reply. The question was rhetorical. She had divined the one thing I had found both frightening and fascinating. The one thing I had little to no experience with so far but yet but wanted to delve into, and I felt certain that she would exploit that discovery. Looking over my shoulder, I saw her take a tube of lubricant out of the pocket of her robe and knew what was coming. I thought about that tube, how she planned ahead for me, pocketing it before she sat down and waited for her little victim to fly into her web. I felt as though I were in some X rated movie, and no one had given me a script. "Bend over." I did, grabbing my ankles with both hands. She smeared my asshole with grease. I felt a finger spearing into me, clear to the knuckle. She wiggled it, finding nerves in there I never knew I had. She added another finger, stretching me and making it hurt. I tightened up. "Please!" I whined. Mrs. Lucy shushed my softly. There was something very intimate about having her reach into me like that, and I relaxed again, aware that her fingers were scissoring apart, opening me. I was squeaky clean inside, at least. I had seen to that a long time. Sarah's Journey into Submission "Stand up and turn around." I lifted myself up and did as I was told. She smiled and poured herself another cup of tea. "Play with yourself." "Now?" The command had been delivered so casually that I wasn't sure I understood. Though our conversations up until now had been a clue that privacy was one of my luxuries I would now be doing without, it seemed insane that she would find entertainment watching me play with myself on demand She frowned. "Your hesitation had been noted. Yes, now!" I dropped my hand to my crotch and began to fondle myself. Self-consciousness made me temporarily numb, but in a few moments my body remembered the familiar sensations of pleasure as my fingers automatically stroked the most sensitive places. The knowledge that I was performing for her was an added stimulus. "Keep your eyes open," she warned. "Play with your nipples as well." I tweaked a nipple through my blouse, twisting it hard through the fabric. The though occurred to me that she was studying my technique to find out where my buttons were, so I was deliberately rough. In moments, I was panting and sweating. Ordinarily, my mind would be occupied by fantasies, but now I had no need of them. The reality of masturbating in front of this arrogant woman had more potency than anything I could imagine. Her eyes bore into mine. They were filled with cruel humour, but also something deeper and far more intrinsic that connected us. My eyes, I suspected, were glazed and unfocused. I began to quake – close, so close! "Stop," she said. Reluctantly, I let the hand that was fondling my breast drop for an instant, but continued with the other down between my legs. I had heard her command, and in the second or two it took to really compute her request and to realize that the game had begun and I was now the slave and that I was supposed to stop, on some other level I couldn't. Call me a rebel or even impudent, and maybe I was starting things off on a bad note, disobeying my first command and all – but this was as much of my own test as it was one form her. I wanted to see how far she was willing to go, or wanted to see just what such a punishment was for disobeying. And so I continued, playing as if I hadn't heard the command, and much to my chagrin she didn't repeat the request. At least if she had, I might have been able to feign innocence and afterwards say I hadn't heard her, being too busy to concentrate and all, but she let me go. She was the master at this after all, and she knew the game and how to play it. It was a game of chess, and though I had made the first move, she was a pro at this and mere seconds later, I was quaking as an orgasm washed through me. "You are quite a performer, my dear. I can see sexual desire isn't lacking in your little body. I like that, it shows the signs of a true exhibitionist lurking deep inside," Lucy said as she waited for me to get down from my high. "But you did disobey me..." "I'm sorry, Mistress." The apology was for the sake of form, of course. I had no illusions that she was about to pardon me. I had no desire to be pardoned either. Wasn't that why I disobeyed in the first place? I was too turned on to resist the temptation, and curiosity alone would have provoked me to continue. I had to know if any reality could match the power of my dreams. "You will be," she finally said. Chapter 3 "Now understand this," said the woman in the same no-nonsense voice, "I'm going to spank you till you're raw." I crawled to her, head down, ashamed to let her read the heat in my eyes, afraid that it would inspire her to treat me even more severely than she planned. I draped myself as gracefully as I could over her lap. In my fantasies, I had never considered the intimacy of this position. I would feel the warmth of her breath on my back, her hard thighs under my belly, her hand sliding up and down my cheeks and thighs, not to explore the territory but to tell me where the hurt would be. "Fingers and toes on the floor," she murmured. "unless you want me to start over." "Yes, Mistress," I said, doing as I was told, realizing that she had just offered me a way to prolong the sessions if I wanted to, that I could double the number of blows, and probably increase their force, just by letting my hands obey a natural impulse. "Understand, I'm doing it for one reason only and that is so you'll be so sore that the touch of my fingernail will make you squeal and scurry to obey my commands. You'll stay raw like that every day this week, and you'll scamper to kiss my feet after I spank you, because if you don't, it will be worse. Do you understand?" She waited, one hand cradling a breast and the other hand on my hair. Very slowly, I nodded. "Very good," Lucy said softly. And then the first stroke fell, and she spanks me by hand. There's a certain intimacy when flesh meets flesh. She can feel the skin yield and rebound, growing warmer with each ringing smack. At first, red handprints mark the spots where she strikes, branding me with her personal mark. My eyes had been heavy lidded and dreamy with the afterglow of arousal, now they flew wide open with shock. My ex-boyfriends' love taps and half-hearted slaps had not prepared me for this fiery explosion of pain. My immediate instinct was to leap from her lap, clap my hands over my bum, and head for the nearest exit. Instead, I clutched the soft carpet, until I could control my voice enough to whimper, "Thank-you, Mistress." Already, I was thinking frantically – how many? I hadn't been told. "Don't thank me yet, I'll tell you when." She struck again on the other cheek. I jerked and whined, but I was mindful of her waning, and kept my fingers and toes rooted to the floor. There was no way I could going to prolong this. She paused then, and rubbed my ass cheek with her hand. "Two red handprints on your bottom," she observed. "My signature of ownership." I might have retorted that she didn't own me, of that the marks would be temporary, but a sudden flurry of smacks drove any rebellion out of my mind. "And for your earlier impudence," she said, hitting the same spot over and over, while my whine rose in pitch and volume. When I was sure I could take no more, she switched to my other cheek and repeated the attack. The pain was more than I bargained for, but not any more than I could stand, and I told myself this was what I deserved for my impudence. I was a little curious too, there was a need in me to find out if submitting to a spanking would pay erotic dividends, or simply cure me of my unrealistic fantasies forever. It didn't take long to find out, and soon my ass was a uniform shade of scarlet. As her hand continued to flail my buns, I felt a warmth growing in my loins. Some mental switch had been thrown, transforming pain and humiliation into lust, and I began to raise myself for her hand, offering myself for more. Even when it was over, and her hand finally stopped and I thanked her properly, my ass was still raised high in the air for more. "I'm glad you didn't think that was going to be it," she said, smacking me once more before standing me up. She turned me and stretched me out on the length of the island counter in one swift motion, with my head towards the door. She scooped up my chin so that I could see the wooden paddle in her hand, and then she laid it against my buttocks, pressing gently on the reddened flesh and making my ass feel enormous and hot. I laid still, almost basking in the odd calm I settled into, as if the earlier excitement cleared everything -- even fear and trepidation – out of its path. Despite the pain in my buttocks, my pussy was unbelievably swollen and wet. "Now listen further," Mistress Lucy went on. "When this paddle comes down, you're going to move for me. You're going to twist and you're going to groan. You're not going to struggle to get away from me. You wouldn't do that. And you're not going to take your hands from the back of your neck. And you're not going to open your mouth either. But you're going to twist and groan. You're going to bounce under my paddle, in fact. Because with every blow you are going to show me how you feel it, and how you appreciate it, and how grateful you are for the punishment you're receiving, and how much you know it's what you deserve. And if that is not exactly what happens, well..." I was amazed. Never had anyone spoken to me quite like this, quite this coldly and simply, and yet it seemed to have behind it some awesome practicality that almost made me smile. The way she talked, she was so casual about it. Of course it was exactly what this woman should do, I reflected. Why not? I had disobeyed her after all. And of course she'd demand that I twist and groan to display my understanding that I was being humbled. She wasn't going to tie me down for this. Instead, she wanted to see how eager I was to make amends. The odd sense of normality came back to me as I reasoned, for the moment anyway, that I would obey, and I would twist and groan. After all, it was going to hurt, wasn't it? Abruptly I found out. The paddle slammed me, bringing forth effortlessly the first loud moan. It was a large thin wooden paddle with an unnervingly crisp sound when it smacked again, and in the hail of blows that stung my sore buttocks, I found myself without a conscious decision suddenly writhing and crying, the tears springing freshly to my eyes. I was brave though, and it took two hits before I started yelping. The paddle seemed to be making me twist and turn, tossing me about on the counter, slamming my buttocks and making them rise again. I felt the counter creak under me as my hips rose and fell. I felt my nipples rub against the wood, yet I kept my tear-filled eyes on the open doorway, and lost as I was in the sound spanking of the paddle and the loud cries muffled by my sealed lips, I could not help but try to picture myself, wondering if Mistress Lucy were pleased with it, whether it was enough. I heard my own full-throated moaning in my ears. I felt her tears sliding down my cheeks, to the wood. My chin hurt as I rocked under the paddle, and I felt my long hair fall down around my shoulders, sheltering my face as I sobbed and begged. The paddle was really hurting now, almost unbearably, and I was rising high off the board as if asking with my whole body, "Isn't it enough, Mistress, isn't it enough?" Never in all life had I so profuse a display of misery. Now I was looking at another moment of truth, wondering if it was already too late to take my pride and clothed and excuse myself. Would it do any good to declare my rights? Could I say the whole thing was unfair? The paddle stopped. A soft torrent of sobs filled the sudden silence, and humbly, I squirmed against the counter as if imploring my Mistress. The paddle waved in front of my face. "Kiss it." I puckered up, smelling warm leather and oil. "Thank me." "Thank-you." My voice was full or gravel. The paddle fell again, many times, hard. "Let's try that again," said Mrs. Lucy. "Try to sound sincere this time." I kissed the paddle like I was in love with it. I said, "Thank-you, Mistress, for giving me the hard paddling I deserved!" "Good, you show promise," she cooed. "Now quiet." Then I felt her fingers playing up and down my slit. She slipped her index finger into my pussy and fucked me with it, then withdrew it and reached around me to press it against my lips. I opened my mouth for the finger and sucked it clean, tasting myself. I wanted to thank her again for the paddling, but I remembered her saying to be quiet, and I didn't want to talk with my mouth full anyways and just moaned instead. This brought out a chuckle and she returned her hand to toy between my legs, adding her middle finger to the penetration. "My pussy," she murmured, as her ring finger danced feather soft against my clit. I felt her thumb dip into my slit and gather moisture, then slide between my cheeks to slip into my anus. I stiffened. "Don't resist me," she cautioned. "Your ass is mine as well." She wriggled her thumb inside me to emphasize the point. I tried to relax as her hand worked me, my ass red and raw, and felt myself riding towards orgasm again. "Permission to cum Mistress," I finally moaned. "Permission granted," she said, her thumb pressing deeper. It was all I needed. In moments, I was clawing the side of the counter with my fingers and arching into her hand as I was rocked by the most intense spasms I had ever experienced. I slumped across the counter, limp and spent, while she withdrew her hand and wiped it with a tissue. "Now that you are no longer distracted," she said casually, reaching behind for something I couldn't see. "I think that you will find the rest of your punishment salutary." I was horrified! Until that moment, I had thought my ordeal was over, and had considered the paddling no more than a bit of rough foreplay. For the first time, I was facing the fact that gratifying my fantasies was not her goal here. My ass was already blazing, and I could no longer depend on the numbing effects of arousal to make the hurt bearable. When something brushed my sore buttocks very lightly, I let out a little cry behind my clenched teeth and my true chastisement would begin. "Very good," came the voice. "Now turn over." I rushed to comply, turning over as best and as easily I could on the counter, with my legs up and as wide apart as I could spread them, my whole body shuddering. It was the paddle I had expected, worse than before, but Mistress Lucy spread me out on my back, drawing my hands over my head, and quickly tying them to the edge of the island, telling me to keep my legs spread or have them spread for me. "I know that you disobeyed deliberately, just to provoke me. You wouldn't think of asking me to be more severe, but you believe that you can manipulate me by breaking the rules a little. I know all of your tricks and games, my dear, and the nest time you are tempted to misbehave," she promised, "you will remember this night." I struggled to get my legs wide, and my body was being stretched to its full length as my ankles were now tied, and I felt panic again, bouncing helplessly on the smooth unyielding wood as I realized that I could not free myself. In a flurry of soft urgent cries I tried to plead with Mistress Lucy. But the moment I saw her smiling down at me, my voice died in my throat and I bit my lip hard, looking up into the clear black eyes that quivered ever so slightly with laughter. "I bet your boyfriend liked those breasts, didn't he?" Mistress Lucy said. I was a full c-cup, so he did indeed. And reaching with both hands, she pinched my nipples between thumb and forefinger. "Answer me!" "Yes, Mistress," I wailed, my soul quaking with the sense of my vulnerability to those fingers, the flesh around my nipples shrivelling as the nipples themselves hardened to knots. A deep pang between my legs caused me to try to close them, when that was quite impossible. You see, my nipples were like little activators, the juices flowing once they were played with. And the rougher they were pinched or twisted, the wetter I got. "Mistress, please, I will never--" "Shhhh!" Mistress Lucy clamped her hand over my mouth and I arched my back, sobbing against it. Oh, it was worse being bound; I could not make myself be still. But I stared at Mistress Lucy with wide eyes and tried to nod, though the hand held me firm. "Slaves have no voice," she said, "until the Master or Mistress asks to hear that voice, and then you answer with the proper respect." She let go of my mouth. "Yes, Mistress," I answered. The firm fingers took hold of my nipples again, and my juices began flowing in earnest. "As I was saying," Mistress Lucy went on, "he must have liked these breasts." "Yes, Mistress!" I answered, my voice quavering. "And this avaricious little mouth." She reached down and pinched shut my pubic lips so that the moisture overflowed and I felt an itch as it trickled. "Yes, Mistress," I answered breathlessly. Mistress Lucy lifted a white leather belt and showed it to me, like a tongue extending from her hand. And gathering my left breast from the top in her left fingers, she bunched the flesh and plumped it as I felt the warmth suffusing my bosom. I couldn't keep quiet, and the moisture between my legs trickled down into the crack of my burning red buttocks. My spread-eagle body strained in vain to close itself. The fingers stretched my left nipple and snapped it. And then the white tongue of the leather belt spanked my breast in a series of hard loud slaps. "Oh!" I gasped aloud, unable to prevent it. The [addling that I had just received was nothing like this. The desire to break free and cover my breasts, both of them, was irresistible and impossible! Yet they seethed with feeling as never before and my body twisted against the wood. The little strap spanked the nipple and the bulging flesh harder and harder. I was in a frenzy as Mistress Lucy turned her attention to my right breast, plumping it in the same manner, snapping the nipple. My cries grew louder, my struggling more violent. The nipple was rock hard under the torrent of licks. I closed my mouth, sealed it shut. I would have screamed at the top of my lungs, "No, I can't bear it." The concentrated blows came faster and faster. My body became my tortured breasts, my desire fanned by the licks like a torch flame. I swung my head so violently that the hair streamed over my face. But Mistress Lucy lifted it back and she bent down and looked at me, but I could not look up at her. "So tumultuous, so exposed!" she said to me, and she kneaded the right breast, pumping it up high again, and then continued to spank it. I gave a high keening cry against I clenched teeth. The fingers tweaked the nipples, massaged the flesh, and the heat roared through me, my hips thrust upwards in a sudden violent convulsion. "This is how a bad little girl should be punished," the Mistress said. "Yes, Mistress," I sobbed immediately. Mercifully the fingers were withdrawn. My breasts felt huge, heavy, a riot of warm pain and thumping sensation against me. My low, raw sighs caught in my throat. And I whimpered when I realized what was coming. I could feel Mistress Lucy's fingers between my legs again, pushing the lips apart even as I sought to close myself, the muscles in her my straining vainly. My heels thumped the wood, the leather straps pressing into the flesh of my insteps. Again I lost all control, struggling violently in a deluge of tears. But the licking strap was slapping my clitoris. I cried out again at the searing intensity of the mixture of pleasure and pain, my clitoris seeming to harden as never before, the strap snapping up at it over and over as Mistress Lucy swung from beneath the sex with her right hand. I could feel my lips puffing, the moisture squirting, the slaps sounding wetter and wetter. My head rolled on the wood; I cried louder and louder, my hips riding up to meet the strap, my whole sex a formless explosion of fire in me. Sarah's Journey into Submission The strap eventually stopped. It was worse, the heat rising, the tingling like an itch that must be scratched. My breath came in short imploring pants in time with my moans, and through my tears I saw Mistress Lucy looking down at me. "Are you my impertinent slave?" she asked. "Your devoted slave," I choked through my tears, "Mistress. Your devoted slave." And I bit her lip, grimacing, praying it was the right answer. My breasts and my sex were boiling with the heat, and I heard my hips spanking the wood beneath them, though I had no awareness of moving them. Through the mist of tears I saw my Mistress's pretty black eyes, the black hair with its fancy little braid over the crown of the head, and her breasts swelling so beautifully. "You're a natural," she crooned. "not one of those dilettantes who go all to pieces the first time I give them a little taste of discipline." And for all her hardness, there was a tenderness afterwards that went beyond words. As I was untied from off the counter and looked after afterwards with such softness, I knew this is where I belonged. Chapter 4 The next day when I arrived at Mrs. Lucy' apartment, I honestly didn't think she expected that I would be back, but the grin that greeted me was all I needed to know that I had made the right decision in doing so. That first night afterall, was something beyond what I ever expected, and she probably thought she might have broken me, after all was said and done. "Hi," said the spider to the fly. "Hi," said the fly to the spider. I couldn't hide the smile that was on my face as I stood there in the hallway, waiting to be let in. I was dressed in a variation of the same outfit as the night before; a short knee-length skirt and purple blouse, black bra and panties. It wasn't long after I entered the apartment and the pleasantries out of the way, before things started again. "Lift your skirt," she commanded. My throbbing ass pulsing under my skirt, I wasn't about to pay another penalty for hesitation. I raised my skirt to waist level. "Just as I thought," sniffed Mrs. Lucy. "Remove those." I hooked my thumbs under the waist band of my panties and started to draw them down. I couldn't look her in the eye as I did. "Turn around first," Mrs. Lucy said impatiently, as though I had forgotten something obvious. When my back was to her, she took a step forward and held my skirt up, taking in my reddened backside. "And slowly," she said. Once again, I hooked my thumbs into my panties and slowly took them off, my red ass almost glowing bright as it was exposed to the cool air-conditioned apartment. "You won't be needing those here," she said, taking them from me as I stepped out of them. She then proceeded to give me instructions as we walked about the house, pointing out exactly what needed to be cleaned and what all needed to be done, and I nodded with each task as she laid them all out for me. The tour ended at a locked door. It was oak panelled, with gargoyles carved into the trim around it. "This is where you'll be punished," she explained. With a final "Yes, Mistress," she was out for the afternoon and I was left to my task. The afternoon had been spent cleaning, my lack of panties making me always aware of my bottom, just as it was intended. Every passing breeze seemed to find its way up my skirt, and the fabric caressed my skin every time I moved, sending small shivers through my body as my still reddened ass was caressed. When Lucy returned later that afternoon, my thighs were positively slick from a mixture of sweat and from my own juices. It didn't take long until we made our way into the bedroom though, my clothes quickly coming off and me kneeling at the foot of the bed. "You wish to taste me," she taunted, sitting naked on the edge of the bed. "but you must wait until after you've been punished. I did say you would spend all week with your ass raw, and I want you to wet my thighs with your tears while you pleasure me." I started shaking, not with fear, but with a much stronger and more indefinable emotion. "Stand up," she snapped. I rose and centered my myself between the bedposts, arms at my sides, eyes straight ahead. "Hands and feet against the posts," she said. The bed was wide. I had to spread my legs very far apart, and my arms were almost level with my shoulders as I gripped the posts. She took something out of the nightstand drawer and stood up. As she advanced on me, I could see that she was carrying a thick leather strap about a foot and a half long and two inches wide. My knuckles turned white around the posts. I had been expected the paddle again, or the white belt se had used the day before. This was a new and unknown threat. She noticed my alarm and grinned. "You will find this experience to be quite different," and said, and struck. The paddle had stung, the belt bit. The sudden sharpness of the pain froze me, and it wasn't until she had delivered two more quick slashes, backhand and forehand, that I yielded to relax, and although it took everything to stand passively while she spanked me again, my ass eventually pushed itself out to meet the strap. After a half dozen slaps, she came closer and ran her hands down the taut skin of my shoulders and cupped my breasts. "A bit more than you bargained for?" she whispered, her breath hot on my neck. I nodded and whined softly, but I held firm, holding onto the bedposts. She stepped back and I closed my eyes as she continued, soon hissing as the slaps grew harder. When she came back closer, she slipped her hand between my legs and toyed with my pussy, pinching the little lips while I winced and writhed. Her hand was making me uncomfortably aware of my vulnerability. I could close my legs or cover my breasts, put an end to it all if I wanted, but I moaned softly as her fingers entered me, and whined again when she went back to using the strap. So far it had landed squarely on my ass, but my position made everything a potential target. It went on. When my ass was glowing and swollen again, she discovered virgin territory between my legs, the thin skin inside my thighs, terrifyingly close to my pussy, which continued to flow. And on – I could look down and see the red stripes appear on my thighs. I was outside the pain now, observing my own torture, hearing my involuntary cries, wondering at my tears. Then it was her hand I felt again, stroking between my legs, probing the wet folds of my bare pubes. I opened my mouth but no sound came out. She dipped a finger into my throbbing puss, her thumb easing back to circle the tight opening of my anus. "Today we'll start with your anal training," she whispered, her mouth finding the bottom of my right earlobe and her thumb pushing its way inside me gently. The thumb worked its way inside and then out, and while I wasn't a complete virgin down there, it was still a relatively new sensation as it went back in. While her hands busied themselves with my body, one hand staying down below and the other twisting my nipples, she taunted me with promises. When the time came, she would plough my ass deep and wide by the hour, but she would condition my body to accept this outrage as graciously as possible. I listened as she went on in gleeful detail how, in time, I would bend over and spread my cheeks for her. Then her hand seized my hair and she pulled me up to kneel before her. She was sure of the power her muscular thighs craved within me, and her puss was wet and hot from that knowledge. I had never really gone down on another girl before that points, and it's really amazing how having your rump roasted can really make you work, my tongue soon busy. Without having to be told, I knew all the best places to lick, and I didn't neglect any of them. If I found a spot that made Mrs. Lucy' breath quicken, I was sure to come back to it. Her puss was soft and sweet and tasted better than I would have thought something like that could. She came about six times before she finally pushed me away, and yes, I wet her thighs with my tears while I pleasured her Chapter 5 The table was icy, and I gasped when I sat down. The room was cool as well, she had set the temperature for her own comfort, not mine and I shivered, feeling very bare. She started with some more detailed questions about my experience back there, and her hands were busy as we spoke, probing my vulva with an interest that was first clinical and soon carnal. She held up her damp fingers between us and grinned as she slipped them into my willing mouth for me to suck clean. I cast my eyes down, knowing that it would turn her on to see me demurely accepting this humiliation. I glanced up once, quickly, to confirm the head behind her stare. "You like playing doctor, don't you?" My mouth was full, so I nodded. She took her fingers out of my mouth and wiped them on my thigh. "Good, that means you won't give me a lot of virginal nonsense when I start training you." "No Mistress!" I was starting to feel like a trained parrot, with my repertoire of responses so limited, but reading this woman's temper was difficult. Her easygoing attitude could be a trap, inviting me to take liberties that would land in in trouble. At least formal replies were safe. "Turn around and bend over." When I obeyed, it was my front that felt the cold touch of the table. I sucked in my stomach to minimize the contact, as my nipples shrank to rubbery points. I turned my head to watch as Mrs. Lucy selected a jar form a nearby shelf, then quickly faced front as she returned, looking elsewhere the way I always did when nurses prepped me in the hospital. I felt somehow that it would be rude to confront people that way – show them my anxious face while they did something necessary and unpleasant to me. Her gloved palm was impersonal against my cheek as she spread me, and I went rigid when an icy glob of gel touched my anus. "Relax," she cooked. "it's just a bit of lube. We'll save the hot stuff until you do something to deserve it." Her finger speared into me, twisting, exploring inside. "You're pretty tight, all right," she observed. "The first thing you have to learn is how to relax, honey. When you're touched here, you need to open wide – for whatever anyone decides to poke into you. You've got to assume that the longest, fattest cock you can imagine is about to come in. Like as not, it will be. That sucker better GAPE, unless you want it to hurt." As she spoke, her fingers were alive inside me. Two now, wiggling and scissoring. The stretching sensation was painful at times, but her hands were clever, finding areas that relaxed me, soothing the tense muscled that gripped them, triggering the flutter of arousal, the preparation of a virgin. This beautiful stranger was handling me in the most intimate way possible. "How does it feel" she murmured. I moaned. "I think I like it!" Her free hand smacked me, and I jumped, clenching against the fingers inside me. "Mistress!" I added quickly. She chuckled and her fingers slithered out of me. I lay gasping, staring straight ahead, all of my tension centered in my tight fists as I strove to relax for whatever she might decide to do next. Her hot handprint on my ass, delivered with such enthusiasm, warmed that I might expect more, but apparently she had more pressing business to take care of first. The nozzle was cold as it entered me. I gasped, then whimpered as I heard a hiss and felt it swell inside. This wasn't an altogether new sensation, as I had long ago learned to keep everything clean, inside and out. As she squeezed the rubber ball in her hand, the swelling inside me increased, and she grinned as she squeezed twice more. I caught my breath and began to pant like a woman in labour, slumping over the table and bending my knees as I strove to relax the internal muscles that tightened reflexively against the pain. It was like having a balloon inside me. I had been filled and emptied several times, until I was passing nothing except the witch's brew she had been pumping into me, and for my last load she screwed a large and well-lubricated plug into me to help me retain the last fill. "That should do for now," she said, coming around and teasing me with the perfume of her scent before taking my head in her hands and straddling me. My distended belly gurgled and whined while I worked my tongue frantically to pleasure her. She wraps her things around my head and lays her heels on my back. "Eat," she tells me. "When I come, you can go." By now you should know how perverse I was. Can you understand me if I tell you that the agony was sweet? Sweeter still was the nectar I lapped, and knowing I had primed it. She used my hair for reins, and though she tried to hold off as long as possible, I had the urgency of need fuelling my tongue. I whine into her body as the cramps cause me to spasm, and my lips engulf her hood, drawing the throbbing bud out. She cums soon and hard. When I was done, she was up in a bound and had me kneeling over the drain. After all, if she didn't keep her word, there would never be any trust. Dizzy with the afterglow, she takes a hold of the plug as I kneel over the drain. "Who's the Mistress?" "You are!" "Ask permission." Once I was emptied, I was returned and bent over the table again. Bending, I became aware of the air, cool against my cheeks. When she lifted my unresisting hands and strapped them to the legs of the table, my worst suspicions were confirmed. My ankles were next, and the edge of the table extended beyond the legs. To reach them, she pulled my ankles apart and forward until my feet no longer reached the floor. There was a strap for my waist as well, snugged down until my belly was tight against the icy table and my cheeks yawned. My ass couldn't be more open – not a more inviting target. It was a taws she used, and it hummed as she spanked me yet again. The pain was sharper than before and I was glad that the table was bolted to the floor; otherwise I would have toppled it, recoiling from the blow. When she shouted, "Right cheek!" I raised my hip from the table and strained to present it to her. "Left cheek!" Even though the breath I had just drawn exploded from my lungs as a tortured bark, I rocked on the table to show her the clearest possible target. "Center!" she coached. "C'mon, show me that crack!" I pushed up and out, gooseflesh rising, my eyes shut tight and my jaw clenched in anticipation for the awful stroke. I howled. "Again!" While my mind silently protesting the impossibility of enduring another like that, my legs contrived to spread themselves a little more and expose the tenderest flesh. It wasn't the lash that found me, however, it was her finger that slipped between my scorched cheeks with a thick glob of lubricant and ticked my ass inside. I flinched at the unexpected tough, then sighed and pressed myself back upon it. "Good girl," she beamed. "I told you we were going to have fun." A humming vibrator replaced her finger, entering me with sensuous slowness. "Open wide now, swallow it down." Her rising inflection carried a warning. Threats were unnecessary. The sensations that resonated through my loins stimulated my clit indirectly; while the psychological effect of being so rudely forced in this unnatural way –- the sheer obscenity of this act, was taking me rapidly to the edge. Why would I want to deny this seductive depravity? I couldn't really tell if the vibrator was being pushed into me, or sucked in. "They boys are really going to enjoy you!" Mrs. Lucy cackled gleefully. I actually felt proud because she was pleased with me. Perhaps it was this acceptance I felt that kept me from running while I still had the chance. No pain, no gain. When I could feel the cold palm of her hand against my heated cheeks, she murmured, "Squeeze it out." I tightened obediently, blushing furiously at the familiar act this suggested, and felt the vibrator shoot out of me and into her waiting hand. The tip had just cleared my sphincter when she began to push. "Open." A rhythm was established, a given and take, in and out. She made me an accomplice to the violation. It was a kindness, really, allowing me to feel that I had some measure of control. "You do this around a real cock," she giggled. "and you will milk it dry in no time. Tighten up now. Stay that way. Try to keep it out." She continued to pump the greased shaft. Though my clenched channel failed to slow the assault, the sensation was increased. I began to sweat and pant like a bitch in heat. Now the impression of rape was greater. This plastic love would not be denied. "Good! Now relax completely, loose as a goose." I sighed, letting her have her way with me. She pumped faster. "You have permission to cum, she laughed. I let myself go, escaping into that cozy familiar world of my dreams and the shudders caught me unaware as my empty puss quivered and my throbbing clit jolted me. She hadn't even touched me down there, and I was cumming without hesitation. "Congratulations!" she crowed. "Honey, you are about to become the most popular piece of ass in town!" She let me have a moment to compose myself before she resumed her thrusting. It was painful at first; in the afterglow of orgasm, I only wanted to rest, and the insistent buzzing of the shaft driving into me was irritating. "Please!" I whined. "Haven't I had enough?" "When you are serving a real cock," she said stiffly. "you won't be the one who decides that you've had enough." It was exactly what I needed, of course, I had to learn that it wasn't just about me. I tested her, I suppose. The same way I strain against my shackled when I am bound, to reassure myself that escape is impossible. It was her merciless response that stirred my treacherous loins again. I grew silent, except for the rhythmic panting that was forced from me as I rocked upon the sweat slick table. "Permission?" I whispered, after a long pause. "You haven't earned another," she said. She helped me to stand after removing my bindings, and let me massage my chafed wrists while she buckled a belt around my waist. "Spread 'em." I spread my legs and looked over my shoulder at her. She was smearing grease on an anal plug that was thicker than the vibrator. "You're making excellent progress," she said. "We'll start you off with a number three." Wearily, I rested my elbows on the table and stoically endured yet another penetration; though I caught my breath when she threaded the crotch strap carefully between my pussy lips and buckled it in the rear, driving the plug in deep and pinching my clit. Seizing the taws, she swept it across my bottom to get my attention. I had remained bent over the table, letting my body adjust to the large foreign object invading me, weak from the dual assaults of pain and humiliation. The taws brought me to attention. There was outraged protest in my cry. "Do you have a problem?" Mrs. Lucy asked sweetly. I remembered my manners in time. "No, Mistress!" "Good. Let's take a walk." I was up and walking, and as we strode around the apartment, I could feel her gaze on my ass. "One foot in front of the other! That's right! Make it twitch. Shoulders back and tits out, strut like a little whore. Show the world what a nasty, dirty slut you are. That plug up your ass is there to improve your posture." Every step punctuated every sentence. I tried to stride like a runaway model and ignore its sharp bites. The crotch strap sawed into me and the plug shifted with every step I took. It was another absurd parade, but I never felt less like laughing.