2 comments/ 30996 views/ 13 favorites Sarah's Adventure Ch. 01 By: sarah37 Giday! After reading a lot of really good stories over the years, and coming across a few really good ones on this site, I decided it was time to tell my own story. Some parts were "taken" from other peoples' work, and this is only because it mirrored my own experience and in no way was it meant to take away from theirs, take credit for anything, or infringe on their work or anything else of the sort, and I'm working on getting their permission for doing so. And for those peoples' work I did "borrow" from, I apologize ahead of time, and if there are any issues, you're more than welcome to contact me and I will do my very best to take those parts out and completely redo them on my own, if I haven't done so already. Anyways, great big disclaimer: This story features lots of BDSM and while the acts in this story were all done safely and between consensual adults, it is by no means "soft core". There's nothing severe, mind you, but nonetheless it's with fair warning before you proceed any further... Also, it's very, very long, so I'll be posting it in parts. All that being said, enjoy! PROLOGUE I was 18 when I had my first real taste of what it was like to be a submissive. Before then, I had only experimented, mostly on my own; trying out little things here and there and experimenting some when I masturbated. I'd try to 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. On my own, I read books such as the Sleeping Beauty trilogy by Anne Rice, but I could never find a willing partner to explore some of the topics discussed or the things that were portrayed in the books, so I was alone. Left to my fantasies as it were. After returning home one day though, after I had finished a heavy session of Hot Yoga, 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. I was incredibly horny, and rolled onto my side as the rubbing grew a little harder. I then sat up with a gleam in my eye and made my way toward my dresser, pulling out several items I had recently purchased; some padded handcuffs, 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 and kneading 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 simple ball gag, which was held in place by a single strap in the back of my head. 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 on 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 me 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 to 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 from 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, but 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: How It All Began I was 19 when it all really began, and believe it or not, it started with an ad in the newspaper, which read: "Obedient live-in maid wanted to service the needs of an upper class lady". How quaint. It was a time in my 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; in other words, it was a normal ("vanilla") way of advertising "Mistress searching for a slave" but without really coming out and saying it. Besides whatever else the actual job would entail, I had just started university so I could really use 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." Not a 'hard' worker, I told her, but an 'obedient' one. I knew this wouldn't be a normal job interview. It was a brief conversation, but we both knew what the other was talking about, without having to come out and 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 fine. Go on my dear, tell me more." "Well, I have long brown hair, I'm 5 foot 9 inches tall, and I weigh about 140 pounds. All my friends say I'm very pretty and..." "OK 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 two-story penthouse apartment in the heart of downtown and rang the doorbell. After a brief time, the door opened, and there she stood; a tall, buxom, dark-haired lady in her early to mid-thirties, wearing a short black silk robe. She was stunning! Whereas I had the super model good looks and the height to back them up, where I turned heads on the street and made the guys stop in their tracks, this woman was just something else, and she radiated a presence. She was breathtaking, almost literally. She was a slender, long-legged woman with a sleek hourglass figure. She stood almost a good inch or so taller than me, and had wide shoulders which sat on a large, full chest, which ran eloquently down to a narrow, shapely waist. Her shape then curved out around a full, wide set of hips and what I could only imagine was a large but appetizing rear end. Her legs were very shapely and full and were quite long, taking up more than half her length. Unlike my face, which was perky and girlish in appearance, her was full and very womanly. She had a strong, wide jaw and full facial features that made it very hard to determine her real age, and which gave her a look of sophistication. Her eyebrows seemed to have a slight tilt to them as well, so no matter what expression she had, they made her eyes have a wicked, devious look that lead one to believe this woman always had something sexy on her mind. Her hair was cut in a short, high fashion style that really accentuated her womanly face. The most obvious feature and the one that I noticed the most, however, were her breasts. They were huge, a full cup size larger than my own. She wore a sheer robe that did nothing to hide her attributes, draped gently from those large, circular, full and firm breasts to the belt tied around her wide hips. They hung with amazing perkiness on her chest, and seemed to be fairly firm but with enough baby fat to allow them to jiggle slightly when the lady moved into the apartment. "Come in, my dear," the woman said, smiling with approval. Stunned by her magnificent beauty, I nervously stepped into the room. As I stood in the middle of the entryway, the woman slowly walked around, me visually inspecting every inch of my own lithe, athletic body. Although still relatively young, I was very well-developed by that point, and was met with re-assuring approval. "'Pretty' doesn't do you justice, my dear... and only 19? Hmm, 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 wouldn't mind finding out," I replied, not believing 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." She walked back in front of me then. 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. My little girl voice. "Very, good, my dear. I think you will work out quite well." The "interview" went on for quite some time after that, as we moved into the kitchen, where she proceeded to ask me all of "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 phase of the job interview, I realized. She was asking me to list my sexual 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 my thighs. "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 were too vile to admit. The other part of it was a sudden suspicion that this was not a casual question, meant 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 own 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 wasn't. 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 as I chewed. "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 experienced player and you are not. The game I propose is no game for sissies. It's serious, like professional sports or 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, grow 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, Ms. 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 required, if only I could be near her. "What I propose," she said, sipping her tea and breaking off another piece of muffin for me to chew. '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 feelings 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 rights 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 very broad strokes what would be involved, what would be entailed and what things would be like for me and what I could expect... and I swear I was kneeling on the floor in a puddle of my own juices by the time she finally 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 paused before stepping out of the kitchen, "Do you know how to stand at attention?" she asked, and I nodded accordingly. "Good," she replied, then disappeared into the bathroom, and I poured myself another cup of tea with a shaky 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: The Initiation When she returned some time later, my empty cup was back on the table and I was there standing at attention, my hands behind my head, knees wide, chin up, back arced, ass out, letting my body language announce my decision. I had read enough to know that she hadn't been talking about standing at military attention earlier. Sarah's Adventure Ch. 01 "Horny little slut, aren't you?" she commented. I could sense her standing behind me, as I thrust my ass out, but I didn't dare look back. "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 me stay and do it, not offer me a way out or give me a choice in the matter. "Call me 'Mistress', or 'Ma'am', unless I tell you otherwise. Do you understand?" "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 what I'll be working with." Okay --- I wasn't too surprised. I knew that she 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, but I guess I probably should have, no? I blushed. I couldn't (or wouldn't?) look at her as I unbuttoned my blouse, but could feel her eyes burning holes through me as I draped it over the chair. My nipples were already hard, poking through the thin bra I wore. "Very nice," she cooed. "Now the skirt. Turn around first." I wasn't surprised by that. She had asked me all those anal questions, so I assumed she was a bum rather than a breast girl, and I guess she wanted to see what she would be working with. Well, I would do my best to give her a show. My skirt was tight, and as I bent over and started to slither it down my hips, she stood and set her cup down. Alarmed, I threw a glance over my shoulder, just in time to see her run her tongue quickly over her lips. "Eyes forward," she warned, and I quickly faced forward again, trembling slightly as she ran a fingernail down over the dimples above my ass cheeks and let it trail down the crack of my ass. "Incredible," she said. I let go of my skirt and let it drop, then stepped out of it, and the next instant I was standing there in my underwear. "Those too," she cooed, and without hesitation (well, maybe a little), I undressed all the way. "There you go," she offered, once my panties hit the floor. "Very nice. Incredible skin tone, I'm very impressed with that. Yes, absolutely stunning." "Thank-you, Mistress." She snaked a hand between my thighs and dipped a finger into my slit. I started to close my legs, but the look in her eyes stopped me. "Spread those long, long legs." There was a warning in her voice. I spread, pissed at myself for being so totally easy... but once again, this is what I had wanted, what I was looking for and where I wanted to be, wasn't it? Her hand dallied in the valley between my legs until I could feel my clit starting to swell. "A very tempting offer," she murmured, "but not quite yet." She wiped her fingers across my flat belly, teasing me with the evidence of my arousal. She picked up her tea cup and sat down again. I remained standing and fidgeted, hands still clasped behind my neck, elbows out. "Well, long legs, great skin, a perfect ass... so far so good." "Thank-you, Mistress." "Now tell me more about your life." Hah! And like it was the most natural thing in the world, standing there naked in front of another woman, hands clasped behind my head, legs wide open, chin up, my pussy dripping and trying my best not to look her in the eyes, I started rambling. I told her how I always like to be pushed to find my limits in my normal life, so now I was interested to see what those limits would be sexually and in the bdsm world, I suppose. I told her how I hadn't found very many physical limits on my own yet, so maybe that's where she would come in? I even said that last part with a grin, testing and poking the lion for a second time tonight, before we even truly got started. When prodded, I told her about my high pain tolerance, how the dentist always commented on it, and then how I ran triathlons, obstacle courses, etc. I was always looking for the next challenge, the next way to push myself farther. We then talked about comforts and then any limits I might want to impose, all the while I was still standing there naked in the kitchen, with her sitting down in front of me. "What's your ideal outcome?" she finally asked. I replied that I wasn't sure, that I had no plans, that I didn't know and kind of liked that. "Me neither," she replied for the first part, shrugging. "Still don't," she smiled for the second. Why did I not believe her? I'm sure she had all kinds of machinations, and the gleam in her eyes was saying as much. "No expectations?" she asked. "Maybe there's a piece of fiction you like? You must have thoughts, something that you want to grab onto, want to see manufactured?" I told her how there was one book in particular that I had read, the Beauty Trilogy by Anne Rice, and how it had me all hot and bothered and led me to experiment on my own. I told her how there were nights I couldn't sleep because it had me so entranced and that I couldn't put it down, and how it got me so incredibly horny during and after reading. "Hmm, I see," she said afterwards with a smile. Or was it a grin? "I've read that book too." Of course, she had! All I could do was offer a demure smile in return as she asked about my favourite parts and which ones had me squirming as I read. Which parts had me afraid, which parts had me hiding under the covers, which parts had me playing with myself or wanting to make into reality. I told her everything she wanted to know, without hesitation. "How about getting fucked? she asked afterward. "Hmmmm?" "If I want to fuck you, would you be good with that?" "Ohh. Yes, Mistress," I replied. "Where? Mouth, ass, pussy?" "Anywhere, Mistress," I said. Hah! Already I was giving her full permission to do whatever she wanted, and I had absolutely no idea what I was offering myself up for. Of course, I had SOME idea, but really I had no idea at all. "Hmm, good," she cooed. She had a long wooden stick in her hand, like a long ruler. "Have you ever been hit with one of these?" she asked. Now where the hell did that come from? "No Ma'am," I replied. See, I told you she was lying when she said she had no plans in store. She was a schemer, this one. In one surprisingly quick motion, she had me draped over her knees while she sat on the chair. In all my fantasies, I had never considered the intimacy of this position; I could feel the warmth of her breath on my back, her hard thighs under my belly, her hand sliding up and down my ass cheeks and thighs, not to explore the territory but to tell me where the hurt would be. She hit my ass once and I jumped, but silently, no sounds coming from my mouth. Then again and again, whack-whack, and then again and I let out a little "OOooo" with the fourth smack. Again and again and again, the ruler came down on my ass, while she talked and asked more questions and I answered them all in turn, determined not to let any other sounds escape my lips but my answers to her questions. I maybe let out some soft little moans in between, but I was determined to show her that I was a good girl and that I could take whatever she could dish. She worked the other ass cheek then, delivering 8 smacks like the first, then back to the other one as we asked and answered some more. "This is one amazingly spankable ass." She continued to slap away and away and finally soft "OOooooh's" started to come out with more frequency. "And I really like those sounds you make," she finished, but then she had me up and standing once more before any more spanks could come down. "Now bend over, hands on your knees, back arched, and spread your legs, please." Hah! She added a please to the end of that! I thought that kindly odd. I know. It was my time to say "Fuck you very much!" and grab my clothes that I had folded neatly on my chair, grab my now reddened ass, and get the hell out of there. I was curious though, swept along in a current, to abuse a cliché, and her finger had just plucked my clit like a guitar string. It was still thrumming. I turned around and spread my legs, even raised my ass so she would have a full view of everything. So eager to please, eh? "From now on, you must never cum without permission. You will obey all commands 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 after all? She had divined the one thing I had found both ever-so-slightly frightening, but more so fascinating. The one thing I had little to no experience with so far but yet but wanted to delve into headfirst (or ass first?), 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. "Eyes forward," she commanded, and I thought about that tube as I looked away; how she planned ahead for me, pocketing it before she sat down and waited for her little victim to fly into her web. I suddenly felt as though I were in some X rated movie, and no one had given me a script. "Bend a little more." I did, grabbing my ankles with both hands. She smeared my asshole with lubricant, then 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, making it hurt ever so slightly. I tightened up. "Please!" I whined. She shushed me 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 been seeing to that for a long time now, in preparation for the one day when I would let someone in back there. Well, it arrived! "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?" I asked. The command had been delivered so casually that I wasn't sure I understood. Though our conversations up until now, not too mention her fingers that were just inside my bum, had been a clue that privacy was one of my luxuries that I would now be doing without, it seemed insane that she would find entertainment watching me play with myself on demand. Once again though, I suppose I should have known better. Had those books I read taught me nothing? She frowned. "Your hesitation had been noted. Yes, now!" I dropped a 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 bare nipple, twisting and pinching it hard. The thought 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, beautiful woman had more potency than anything I could ever imagine. Her eyes bore into mine, and I struggled to keep her gaze. 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 one down between my legs. I had heard her command, or at least some part of my brain had, and in the second or two it took to really compute her request and to realize that the game had truly begun and I was now the slave and that I was supposed to stop... on some other level I just couldn't. I had already poked the lion twice with my words and maybe once more with my hesitation; call me a rebel or even impudent, and maybe I was starting things off on a bad note, disobeying my second real command and all -- but this whole experience was as much about me testing her, as she was testing me. I wanted to see how far she was willing to go, and wanted to see, maybe just what such a punishment was for disobeying. What exactly did three strikes earn you? And so I continued, as if I hadn't heard the command, and much to my chagrin she didn't repeat the request either. At least if she had, I might have been able to feign innocence and afterwards say I hadn't heard her the first time, being too busy to concentrate and all that, but she just let me go. She was the master at this after all, and she knew the game and how to play it better than I did. It was all a game of chess, and though I had made the first move, she was the pro 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 firm, athletic body. I like that, a lot, it shows the signs of a true exhibitionist lurking deep inside," Ms. 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 and 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: Mistress Lucy's Discipline "Now I'm going to instil an impression on you," my new Mistress said, as I was once again bent over at the waist. "That I'm really quite serious, and I'm going to keep hitting you until I think my point is made. Of course, you know how to stop it, and if at any point it's too much and you want to call an end to this whole thing, we can do that and never see each other again. No hard feelings. Ready?" "Yes, Mistress." "Hmm." She stood beside me then, grasped my hair in her hand and wrapping it into a tight ponytail which she held onto. No more stick, she had a cane in her hands now and my eyes were wide. Without hesitation, she started tapping away, softly but repeatedly and in a flurry of hits with no end, all over the backs of my legs to start with. "Nice long legs," she cooed. I shuffled around and her hand grasped my hair tighter, but there was no crying out as the hits landed. "The more you move, the longer I hit." She worked both legs up and down, and I tried to stay silent but then started to let out soft little moans. "Hmmm, you like that don't you?" "Yes, Mistress." She then started to work my calves. "I suspect before the end of the day, I'm going to be hard-pressed not to put a couple of stripes on these nice legs of yours. Especially these pretty calves." Tap, tap, tap. "Would that be OK with you?" "Yes, Mistress." "Well you're already panting like a tramp," she commented in reply. "And I've hardly hit you at all." She then began tapping my ass with the cane, little swats, then a hard whack and finally, she got a loud "Ohhhhh!" as the result. Before they had been love taps, like little kisses, but that really stung! "Going to have to leave a couple stripes on that perfect ass for your earlier disobedience, but don't worry, they won't stay for too long." Whack. "Ahhhh!" Whack. "Ahhhhhh!" Whack. AAaahhh!" They weren't the most painful strikes, not by any means, and I think it was more the shock and awe that was making me cry out, than the actual pain of it. She went back to the tapping then, down my legs, and the soft little moans were coming out again. These I could take, and if anything, I was actually, just mildly, maybe just a smidgen, enjoying the cane. It was much different than the flat ruler, and this light tapping at least, was not at all too much. It was the little pinch of salt you put on an otherwise perfect meal, to enhance the flavour. "I want you to know, I'll hit you much harder as I get to know you better." A whack! on the right thigh and 'Ohhhh!' then tapping down my left thigh, and then whack! Again, all around, back and forth, and I whined softly. "Breathe. Good girl." Back to tapping away, gently holding me down by my hair anytime I tried to raise my back up. "I just love hitting pretty girls, and you do make the most enticing little sounds," she cooed, tapping away and then whack! "Ohhhhh!" "Do we have an understanding?" "Yes, Mistress!" "Good. I can hurt you very badly," she paused. Whack! "And make you feel very good, if you're good to me." Another whack, but softer, then I'm stood up straight once more. I get a smile as my eyes catch hers, or maybe it's that grin? Either way, she's the happy cat with her milk, and my ass is blazing! But in a good way, not a hold-your-ass-while-you-ran-from-the-fire kind of way. She turned me around then, pirouetted me once, and then her hands massaged my ass. Firmly, grabbing one cheek and then the next, then slapping a couple of times for good measure to get me to gasp. I glance at the clock on the wall; it's only been 10 minutes since she first bent me over. She sees my eyes dart to it. "That's right," she cooed, "hasn't been very long at all. Well little one, you sure you're up for some more? " "Yes, Mistress." "Kneel down, and sit back on your thighs." I do as I'm told, the perfect little slave now. "Am I flipping you out yet? "No, Mistress. I'm OK." "Are you trying to figure out if I mean this shit or not?" "I think you're serious, Ma'am," I replied. I even had a damn smile plastered all over my face, if you could believe it, between the nods and sucking on my lower lip. I'm a mess in between thinking that it's real and thinking that she's making shit up as she goes, and my ass is no doubt red... but here I am kneeling on a slightly cold tiled floor, and where else would I rather be? Nowhere else in the world. "How are you? Still ok?" The smile crept back for an instant and then I replied, "Yes, Mistress." "Hmmm," she huffed, and then she was there squatting beside me. "How about you just go ahead and cry right now, get it out?" She stood and walked around me. "Because," she continued, and right there and then I started to sob soundlessly, eyes closed and almost tearing up, lips pouting. What that frak was wrong with me? I hadn't cried during the ruler spanking, nor the caning, not even a single tear, but now I was all sniffle, sniffle, pouty face. "If we keep going all afternoon with you bottled up like this, it won't be any good." Sniffle-sniffle some more, lips still pouting. "You have to recognize these things right away, and deal with them." The tears started to flow then and I was truly mind fucked now. "And there's 2 ways to deal with that," she kept going. "Can sit you down, pat your head and make sure everything is OK. Or we can hold you up by your hair, and beat it out of you until you cry. Nothing serious mind you, no major marks," she continued, and I sniffle-sniffled. "There we go, there's the trickle. That's good, let it out," she said and I was truly surprised what hold this woman had over me. I never cried, very rarely anyways, and even while she was whacking away at my ass, the tears didn't come... but now like this, she simply tells me to let it out, and I complied so freely. It wasn't an upset crying, or a painful crying either, and I couldn't really put it into words mind you what it was, since I wasn't used to being in that position. Sarah's Adventure Ch. 01 "Want to take a break or continue?" Still sobbing a little bit, I wondered if she was really asking me. "Completely up to you, Ma'am. I'm ok," I replied between sobs, putting the smile back on as the tears stopped. "Very well, stand up." I stopped crying altogether then, and did as requested; standing with my hands clasped behind my head, chin up and she stood beside me. Her fingers touched my breasts with a light gentle touch. She moved her hands all over my big, beautiful breasts, and she must have liked the feel of them, because she took her time with them. Her fingers pressed and petted and stroked them, all the while enjoying how warm and resilient the skin was as she fondled them. She paid close attention to my nipples; she squeezed and pinched and rolled them between her fingers, eliciting little moans from me. As she did, they grew in size, getting longer and even harder than they already were, and my breath got shorter and shorter. In spite of myself, I began to respond to her ministrations. It was at that point that she removed her hands from me. When I dared look at her through eyes that registered my uncertainty, she spanked my left breast with the open palm of her right hand, quickly followed by a spank to my right breast. I cried out more in shock then pain. Ms. Lucy (after watching my tits dance from the force of the blows) looked me in the eyes and saw a look of surprise and -- betrayal? I looked down at my nipples and saw that they were even harder and bigger than before. She smiled, delighted by my reaction. She then bent me over at the waist once more, and started to spank my ass by hand. There was something even more intimate about that, when flesh meets flesh (something the ruler and the cane hadn't managed), and twice she slapped my ass. She could feel the skin yield and rebound, growing warmer with each ringing smack. At first, two red handprints marked the spots where she struck, standing out overtop the soft pink welts that were already there, branding me with her personal mark. She paused then, and rubbed my ass cheeks 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, and I had a snappy comeback, a real zinger about the marks only being temporary, but I forgot all about it, and instead I replied, "Thank-you, Mistress." "Don't thank me yet, I'll tell you when." My eyes had been heavy lidded and dreamy with the afterglow of the two first spankings, now they flew wide open with shock. The ruler had warmed me, the cane stung but felt oddly nice, but soon her hand would truly get me to bark, I was sure. 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 grasp, finally clap my hands over my bum, and head for the nearest exit. Instead, I clutched my knees tighter. A sudden flurry of smacks drove any such rebellion out of my mind. "And for your earlier impudence," she said, hitting the same spot over and over, while my eyes scrunched shut with each slap. When I was sure I could take no more, she switched to my other cheek and repeated the attack. Then she slapped at my thighs to make me widen my stance, and without hesitation I opened my legs for her. I was determined not to cry out, merely take my punishment, but as the slaps grew harder and harder on my ass, my whine rose in pitch and volume and I was "oww, oww, owwing" each time her hand came down on my already heated ass. SPANK! SPANK! SPANK! SPANK! On and on went the spanking. Her hand rose and fell, seemingly as tireless as a machine. She avoided getting into a rhythm and paced herself so as to make the spanking last. SPANK! SPANK! SPANK! Her hand, it wouldn't stop. Again and again it came down, no rhythm or pattern, nothing to brace against. SPANK! Sometimes they were delivered with a pause (SPANK!) between them, then she would deliver a series of them in rapid fire fashion. SPANK! SPANK! SPANK! SPANK! It was maddening. It also (SPANK!) after awhile, began to really hurt. At first the spanks were more humiliating but not very painful. I had been hit harder with the ruler and with the cane. Now though, (SPANK!) the spanks were starting to really hurt. The pain was a little 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 had really poked the lion after all, and fully expected to get bit in return. I was more than just a little curious too; there was a need in me to find out if submitting to a spanking would pay any erotic dividends, or simply cure me of my unrealistic fantasies forever. It didn't take long to find out, and soon my buttocks were a uniform shade of scarlet, my ass raising high in the air for more. She delivered a stinging slap to my right cheek and then she began to rub my asscheeks. Her hands moved all over my burning, flaming red bottom. She did this for just a moment then she spanked me again. Then she rubbed me again. SPANK! Rub. SPANK! Rub. SPANK! Rub. She kept this up, varying the length of time she rubbed my ass and the number and type of spanks she delivered, as before. In time it had the desired effect. "Is any of this turning you on?" she asked, not pausing in her slaps and rubs. 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. I wanted to tell her that yes, it was turning me on, but I stayed silent. I had indeed begun to feel something strange; it started deep down inside of me. At first it was a small sensation, but as she continued it began to grow, and it wasn't long before I recognized what the feelings were. I tried to fight them but they were too strong. I was indeed becoming sexually aroused, and sweat began to stream down my forehead as I tried to stop the onrush of emotions. I felt myself starting to let go. I clamped my mouth and bit my tongue, trying to keep from voicing my arousal., and began to shake all over with the effort. Of course, Ms. Lucy saw this and grinned openly. Success was almost at hand. Just one more change of tactic. She licked a finger, and it dipped down between my legs. She ran it back and forth between my slit while she spanked some more. "Well you're fucking wet, that's for sure." The finger went inside me while she continued to spank my ass with the other hand. Then she delivered a series of stinging slaps to my pussy, followed by some rubbing of my warm, wet, slit. She alternated back and forth, spanking and rubbing, spanking and rubbing, then her fingers slipped inside once more, curling inside me as they worked in and out. It was just too much! I began to cum. I cried out in a mighty yell of lust and pent up emotions. On and on I cried and moaned, even as Ms. Lucy resumed the ass spanking with her other hand as her fingers worked inside me. My body shivered and shook, my hair flying everywhere as I tossed and shook my head. My ass gyrated and bucked and quivered, my asscheeks opening and closing rapidly. My heaving breasts rose and fell and shook and flopped all over. My face was a mask of pure lust, and I cared for nothing right now except the feelings coursing through my body. For two full minutes I came, and what a magnificent sight! When I finally subsided and could see again, Ms. Lucy was still there. "What did I say, about asking for permission first?" My mind was numb, and no words would come to my throat. That's twice now I had disobeyed the first rule. "Now understand this," she said in a no-nonsense voice, "I'm going to spank you till you're raw. Up until now, you've gotten just a taste, and if anything, I think you liked it. What I'm going to do now is 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, wrapping it into a ponytail. Very slowly, I nodded, feeling her grip as my head moves. Numbly, I was even aware that I had read some of those very words before, in one of those 'Beauty' books. 'Oh no,' I thought to myself almost absently then, 'now what was I getting myself into?' For those of you who haven't read the Beauty Trilogy, well she didn't get it easy her first day, and I had made it a point earlier to tell Ms. Lucy exactly how turned on I was by those very same words as I read them. 'Oh no'. "Very good," my Mistress replied softly. "I'm glad we're on the same page," she continued, smacking me once more before standing me up. She turned me around 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. She had writhed an orgasm out of me without any consent, without any will to even fight, but still I wanted more. Up on the wood counter, I was now inside the book I had read, experiencing it all first-hand, and I can't lie, it was all surreal. A little magical even. "Now listen further," my Mistress went on, word-for-word as I had read. "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 neither. Nor are you going to open your mouth either. But you will 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 and matter-of-fact about it. Of course it was exactly what this woman should do, I reflected. Why not? I had poked and then prodded and then fully disobeyed her after all, and she knew very well what I was doing; what I was asking her to do, without actually asking her to do it. And of course, she'd demand that I twist and groan to display my understanding that I was being humbled. Why ever now? She as going to play out the scene exactly how it had in the book, whether for my own benefit or hers, I don't know. She wasn't going to tie me down for this, because Beauty hadn't been. Instead, she wanted to see how eager I was to make amends. She knew very well what this very scene had inspired in me, and I had told her exactly how it made me feel too. Well, it was time to put words into reality. 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 for her. After all, it was going to hurt, wasn't it? Beauty's Mistress hadn't gone easy on her, and I didn't expect the same. 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 a series of 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 tearless eyes on the open doorway, and lost as I was in the spanking sound of the paddle and the loud cries muffled by my sealed lips, I could not help but try to picture myself, wondering if my Mistress were pleased with it, whether it was enough. I heard my own full-throated moaning in my ears. I felt tears finally 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 clothes and excuse myself. Would it do any good to declare my rights? Could I say the whole thing was unfair? I don't know. Beauty had not done so, and I'd like to think I was made of stronger stuff than she. Finally 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 Ms. 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, drenching it with my own juices, 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. Gods! 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, but it went in without any protest. "Don't resist me," she cautioned. "Your ass is mine as well." She wriggled her thumb inside me to emphasize the point, but there was no pain. All of that was on the outside of my ass. I tried to relax as her fingers worked me, my ass red and raw, and felt myself riding towards orgasm again. "Permission to cum Mistress," I moaned. I had finally learned my lesson, and all it took was the paddle. "Permission granted," she said, her thumb pressing into me a little 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 in my life. Twice now, this woman had made me cum, and with just her fingers. 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 to be the punctuation at the end of a sentence. For the first time, I was facing the fact that gratifying my fantasies was not her goal here, and after all, I should have known to expect some more. Beauty had gotten a little more than that, so why should I be spared any? My ass was already blazing, and now 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 knew that my true chastisement would begin. "Very good," came the voice. "I'm glad you didn't think that was going to be it. Now turn over." I rushed to comply, turning over as best and as easily I could on the counter, with my knees up and as wide apart as I could spread them, my whole body shuddering. I didn't expect the paddle this time, already knowing what was in store, even as my Mistress spread me out on my back, drawing my hands over my head. She quickly tied them to the edge of the island, then told me to keep my legs spread or have them spread for me, and it was just like the scene in the book. We were playing the whole thing out in real life, right here and now. I didn't know if I should be afraid of excited. Maybe both? "I know that you disobeyed deliberately earlier, 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. I've read all the same books as you have, and the next time you are tempted to misbehave," she promised, "you will remember this night." Then just like in the book, as Beauty had done before me, I struggled to get my legs wide, and my body was being stretched to its full length as my ankles were now tied too, and I felt panic again, bouncing helplessly on the smooth, unyielding wood as I realized that I could not free myself. Panic set in for an instant, but more than a little bit of excitement soon took over, because this was what I had wanted after all, wasn't in? This was what I had fantasied about, sought after, and wanted for so many years? In a flurry of soft urgent cries, I tried to plead with my Mistress, but they were token requests. I didn't mean a single word, and the moment I saw her smiling down at me, once more just as Mistress Lockey had done with Beauty, my voice died in my throat and I bit my lip hard, looking up into those clear, icy blue eyes that quivered ever so slightly with laughter. She said that she had read the same books as I, and seemed to know this one in particular by heart as I had. "I bet your boyfriend liked those breasts, didn't he?" Ms. Lucy asked, line for line out of the book. I was a full, round, youthful and perky 34C, so he did indeed! But I kept my mouth shut, any impudent remarks I might have thought of not quite forming. 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. Tied onto the counter, I could numbly remember the passages I had read, and 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 between my legs once they were played with. And the rougher they were pinched or twisted, well the wetter I got. "Mistress, please, I will never..." I said, playing the part. "Shhhh!" Ms. Lucy clamped her hand over my mouth and I arched my back, whimpering against it. Oh, it was worse being bound; I could not make myself be still. But I stared at my Mistress 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.