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The Leap

By: cand86



Dear Thomas,

Please do not be mistaken by this letter. It is not a fantasy or a proposal or even a love letter. I didn't put it under the whip to be cruel or ironic. I just knew it was the one place you would be sure to find it. And by now, you must know that this is a letter ending our time together.

How do you write a goodbye letter to someone like you? A 'Dear John' letter would provide a quicker, cleaner break. But then, the wounds I have given you were never like that. Perhaps it is more fitting this way. I would not even know where to start with a form letter like that. Cross out the 'love' with 'pain', and 'kisses' with 'cuts'? I do not even know where to begin except to tell you what you already know, so that I may tell you what you do not.

It has been my privilege to keep you as my slave. Slave, slave, how much that word lacks. But 'lover' lacks as much. You, the man who shared my bed each night, who delighted in everything I gave, be it pleasurable or painful. The honor was mine completely, and I tell you that not to dredge up bitterness, but because it is the truth. It is cliched, but I wish you only more joy. Enclosed with this note is a letter of recommendation. You may take it to any master in the city and they will gladly take you on. My word is good among them. They are far better men than I.

Do not protest or cry out as you read this of my virtues. You do not know my weaknesses. I have hidden them from you. There is something vicious about this world we play in, and it has little to do with the whips and chains and knives. It is that I cannot speak openly to you. To imagine! My arm has been as deep inside you as anyone can be. I have touched you in the most vulnerable places. We have spoken in depth about your filthiest desires, and still there are places in me that you have never seen, neither you nor any bottom. These are the topics of which I have never spoken to my colleagues, though I wonder, at times, if they share my affliction. We shall never know, for it is pride that keeps us from speaking.

You must wonder, as you read, what this horrible secret is. I have written three paragraphs yet and still I cannot find the way to write it. It is that abhorrent to me, that confusing. Shame burns in me, me, who has earned the world's shame three times over for things I have done on a weekday night. I am deficient, deficient and lacking. I feel a failure and that is why I have left you. Thomas, it sounds like a vanilla cliche, but the problem lies with me, not you. The last sort of infliction I'd wish upon you is self-doubt. I love you in a way that makes me ache, but to be with you while like this would be a lie that would destroy me. It would break my fragile core at last.

Yes, Thomas, I, fragile. The impervious master, cold, cruel, domineering. You knew me to be tender, but never could I show you the frailty. That is the sort of unveiling that would tumble walls. How could you ever keep your respect if you knew? Even now my fists ball over the paper. This is my third attempted letter; I determine it to be my last, but still I wish to destroy it. It is evidence against me. So much better to leave you without a word, to let anger at me salve the pain. But you deserve better than that. You deserve the truth.

The truth is this. I have cheated on you. We never swore to be monogamous, so such was my prerogative, but I never spoke of it, and hence, I lied. The omission came from my shame, for I sought out these other boys not for lust. Never for lust, you must understand. You were all I ever wanted, and they were disgusting things. I chose them as such. You will see in time why.

Even now I cannot help but wax sentimental over the very nature of our lifestyle. The masks that cover your faces, the blindfolds, the master always looming just out of vision, stationed behind you- are these really matters of eroticism and practicality, designed for your pleasure? Or do they betray what I wonder they do, contrivances for the master? So many times I have used your blindness to hide myself from you- for when it is your back, and not your face presented to me, my hand is free to shake and tremble before I bring the lash down. When you wore the blindfold, you could never see my fear. And suddenly, dear Thomas, I find that I have written it down, after a mere page, my secret. When I am with you, I feel nothing but fear.

It wasn't always that way. In the beginning, all I ever felt for you was lust, and then deep friendship, and then love. Until the end, now, forever, those are still all I feel for you. But there was a time when nothing more was on my mind than our mutual pleasure, borne from the pain I gave you. You were special to me- I knew that from our first introduction- but how special I could not know. Precious bottom, you were. Are. Precious species, all of you. In all my life I have never found such pleasure as with the rare breed of man who delights in submitting, in being hurt, in pleasing me. I can marvel about it now in academic appreciation, long after the novelty of discovering this community has worn away. Master-slave, the bond at once true and terribly mistaken. For who was I ever, Thomas, but a slave to you?

No, I cannot do that, I mustn't do that, it seems as if I lay blame on you. But it is not you. It is the great and terrible way in which we live. Any man can hold a whip. That is what a teacher once told me. I didn't believe him, but now I do. That is why there are the great masters, the ones whose names precede them, for whom men and women alike would do anything to serve. Men with whom I once counted myself. It might seem to you that we men had the power of choice among those proteges, and that we held all the power because we held the whips and fastened the ropes. But I do not think you as naive as that. You must know how we depend on you. Without you, what are we? What could we do? Slave is an archaic term, one used for the quaint images it brings to mind. But you are not slaves, and were you, we would not want you. Or at least, I would not want you. You are submissive companions, and you differ from slaves by the conditionality of your relationships. Never spoken, but always there: Please me.

Oh, Thomas, I know I pleased you, and you me, and that was all. But there came a moment in time when suddenly I could not take any pleasure from what I did, for worry and fear. Searching your face for every trace emotion that I longed to rouse in you, be it pain or ecstasy or both. Every time I came before you was passionless, no matter how I tried. To see your come on the floor was like relief washing through me: that you had enjoyed it, that I was still of value to you in that much. And even then it was worse, as I wondered if even that was enough proof, or if you wished for someone else, someone more skilled, a better top. I always took such pleasure in my work, in crafting scenes, in the particular art of how to build layers of eroticism in pain and pleasure, humiliation, negligence and tender care and attention. With you it became a chore I dreaded. My creativity withered and dried up. I cursed your name.

I do not curse you now. I am far wiser now than then, for I see that it is not you but me. You have not changed, you have been unerring in your ways, as dedicated and sure as ever. It is I who became riddled with self-doubt. I could not bear the weight of responsibility that fell on my shoulders every time I stepped into the room to play out a scene with you. There was no cure; not spontaneity nor other bottoms. I sought them, yes. I found the throwaways and rejects, the newly initiated and the timelessly fascinated-but-horrified. I would not know it until far after that I chose them specifically for their flaws. I did not want to matter to them, Thomas, the way I mattered to you. They bore the brunt of my affliction, for I treated them badly. I became the sort of sadist that we insist we are not, the kind sweet suburban housewives cringe to think of. Every orgasm with them was intense, and every one, hollow.

I wonder now, here in the dungeon, surrounded by the tools of my trade, if perhaps you brought this about in me. How much of a sadist am I before I am a man? For when I think of the crippling fear I experienced with you, it is rooted in the fear of you leaving. Bottoms come and they go, but I could not bear to fail you for the thought of you going. Pride, reputation, my confidence- all swung in the balance of whether I was a good enough top. But with them, Thomas, my heart. Don't the straights, the vanilla sex couples, the rest of the world outside of us- don't they have a vision of love as a leap? That one must take the leap, fearful as it is, in order to love completely. The risk of fall is the price of landing safely. Perhaps we are not so different, sadomasochists and the rest of the world. I could not validate my fear with you. I could not leap to love, or whatever version of such that our kind share. You have been so much more than my slave, and in the end, ironically, it is the very slavery that rendered me impotent before you.

It is written here- my love, my fear- and the solution must seem obvious to you, Thomas, but it isn't. Your affirmations will do nothing for me, you see. You might assure me all you want of your desire for me, of your dedication, of your love. But it is I who stay on the other side of the cliff. To take your hand is not the same as jumping; don't you see? I would ever require your hand. The problem is mine and I cannot fix it. That is why you mustn't try to find me. By the time you read this, I'll have been gone, and you cannot try to find me. Take the letter of recommendation and find another master who can treasure you as you deserve to be treasured. Do not think of me; nothing will come of it. Every scar I have left on your body would be a reminder of my imperfection. For someone else, they will be nothing. Let them flay your flesh anew, let them anoint you with your own blood. It is my last command. Take care, Thomas.

Vincent

The Learning



For dfalken and others looking for a twist in the incest/taboo line. Hope I have succeeded in meeting a few expectations. Please feel free to comment, I'd love the input, getting better ain't easy without you guys and gals! 

It was scene straight out of the movie, I couldn't believe it. It was "National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation" come to life, only it wasn't Christmas. My sister and I weren't Russ and Audrey, and I, really, failed to see any humor in all that was transpiring!

"Mom…you've got to be kidding! Don't make me do this! Don't make us do this, no good will come of it!" I pleaded strongly.

"Now dear, it's only for a short time, I'm sure you can make do and share. We all do things we don't like, at times, and this is one of those times." My mother responded, as I cringed replaying the movie in my head.

"Jesus, she sounded just like Beverly DeAngelo, in the movie saying, "we all have to make sacrifices" I thought, as I left the kitchen, watching my mother's waning smile collapse into a worried look.

"Do the best you can Rob, your sister won't be that big of a problem." I heard mom call out to me, and as I rounded the corner, heading up stairs, she added, "It's only for two weeks dear!"

I suddenly began to hate the fact my father had a sister, let alone that she was married. They were the cause of this mess and I just couldn't figure out why they were staying with us and not at a hotel, for Christ sake!

My life had been turned upside down at the family dinner table, with the announcement, the night before. Jo Anne and Frank were coming in three days and they would be staying with us, for two weeks no less!

For once, Amy and I had been on the same page as we both protested vigorously, but to no avail. The parents had decided that since Amy's room was nicer than mine, Amy would be sharing my room for the duration, besides she had a queen sized bed and I didn't.

The news angered me and I sent a, swift, glaring look at Amy, which was received and answered with a resounding kick to the shin, as she renewed her protesting. I tried to aid in her protest, as I rubbed my shin, but my father cut us off short.

"That's it you two, enough! This is the first time in years, that my sister and her husband have visited and they will be welcome in our home! Whatever differences you two have, get over them now or I swear I'll send you both to military schools! And that was that, except for minor protesting to mom, outside of dad's ear shot.

Sitting on my bed, allowing frustration to build, I caught Amy's form darken the doorway, from the corner of my eye.

"Ya, what the hell you want?" I snarled, as Amy settled in, leaning against the door jamb.

"Hey, don't be so damn snippy, OK! It wasn't my idea and I'm the one giving up an entire room here. Think about that, buddy boy!" She came back, amazingly even toned and forceful.

At 18, Amy had worked her way up my "top ten" list, of pain in the asses. She was cute, perhaps too much for her own good and had developed a real attitude to boot. We had been fighting like cats and dogs for, nearly, two years now and I thanked God that my entrance into college was a few short months away.

"Look Amy…" I started out, as Amy cut in,

"No Rob, you look and understand we just have to make due for a while. I don't like it any more than you and here's what I think we should do." As she crossed her arms and took an even firmer stance in my doorway.

I knew the stubborn look well and sat listening, as my room was subdivided, my rights chopped off at the knees and my bathroom time cut more than in half, with Amy's plan. With a smug smile, Amy raised an eyebrow and offered out her hand, in a "wadda ya think?" gesture.

I put both hands to my face and rubbed, as I tried thinking, hopefully to shoot down her logic, but I failed. Slowly my hands came down and I responded to her question.

"Got no choice, do I? Seems like you figured it all out, without me, and I have little else to do but get out of your way, right sis?" 

Amy smiled a "you're fuckin' right" smile at me, put her hands on her hips and turned to leave, adding as she looked back over her shoulder,

"I'll be back in a little while. No sense waiting til the last minute and I have a lot of things to bring over here, so get movin' and start rearranging things, OK brother? Oh, and by the way, get rid of that porno crap of yours…I don't even want to see that shit lying around!"

I flopped down on my bed and groaning loudly, starting to resign myself to the two weeks of hell, bearing down on me.

I cleared out three dresser drawers and half my closet space for Amy, prepping for her return. Starting on the bathroom, I heard Amy's, syrupy sweet voice call out, as she entered my room with her first "load", 

"Rob, don't forget to vacuum too, I know what's under that bed must have legs by now!"

"Anything else, your highness?" I replied back, with just enough irritation in my voice, for her to understand she was getting on my last nerve.

"Nope, just make sure I have enough space for my make-up, and such, in the bathroom, pleeeease!" She replied, with an equal distain.

And so it went, Amy moved her things in and I moved out of the way, in preparation for the relatives to arrive. By the end of the second day, and with no small amount of animosity displayed, we were ready for thes. Our wait wouldn't be long…

Lying on the floor, in my makeshift bed reading, I heard the doorbell and my mind returned to the movie.

"God, the doorbell from hell!" I groaned, imagining the "ding-dongs" growing lower in tone and more ominous, when I heard Amy call out,

"Shut up, this'll be fun, like we're camping out or something, stop being such a shit!"

"Rob – Amy, Jo Anne and Frank are here!" Mom called out to us.

"Coming!" I yelled back and rose from the floor, just as Amy emerged, looking a little too made up, but gorgeous none the less.

"Well? How do I look?" She asked.

"Special sis, just special. Don't suppose you could have told me you were dressing up?" I commented.

"Nope, figured you'd be the slob you always are. Come on, let's get down there."

As Amy left the room, I stepped into the bath, to check my hair and straightened out my pants and shirt, trying to be somewhat less slovenly, and grimaced, as I found Amy's underwear lying on the sink, her make-up scattered everywhere and her discarded clothes piled on the floor.

"God help me!" I thought, shaking my head, turning to join the family.

Walking into the living room, I was greeted with what seemed like the second coming of Christ. Everyone talking at once, laughing, hugging and kissing and Amy stood in the middle, with Uncle Frank's arm firmly wrapped around her waist, as he excitedly talked with mom and dad about their trip.

Jo Anne rushed me, as soon as she saw me enter and wrapped her arms around my neck, planting a big wet, juicy, kiss on my lips and shouted out,

"Oh my God Rob, you've grown into one hell of a, striking, young man! Alice – John, what have been feeding this guy?" As she turned laughing, to look at mom and dad, but not releasing her grip on me.

Thoroughly embarrassed, my face turned crimson, as Jo Anne dropped her hands to squeeze by biceps and playfully massage my hard abdominal muscles. "Oooooo, what a stud you are, Rob!" Were her final words, as she let go and Frank stepped up to grab my hand.

"How ya doin' Robbie boy! Damn if Jo Anne ain't right, you're one hell of a good looking young man, but your sister is a real knockout…ay?" He said, in greeting me and followed up with a jab to the ribs, after releasing my hand.

"Yup, a real prima-Donna, that's my sis!" I quipped, a smirk on my lips, as Uncle Frank turned to leave.

Things quieted down a few minutes later and I was given the dubious honor of stowing my Aunt and Uncles luggage away in Amy's room, as everyone else retired to the back yard patio. Day one had started and I could only feel relief, as the din faded away, the closer I got to Amy's room.

Tripping going into Amy's room, with the second load of luggage, I cursed as I hit the floor hard. As I lie on the floor, shaking my head, wondering what the hell had just happened, I noticed something sticking out from under Amy's mattress. 

Curious, as always, I reached to pull out a diary, but it wasn't Amy's, it was moms from years past. Opening it, I saw the first date was entered a year before she and dad married. More curious, I decided to hide the diary away in my room, for reading later and wondered to myself why Amy had it. Whatever the reason, I was sure it might be some juicy reading and smiled over my good fortune.

It would be a couple of days before I was able to start that diary…

"Rob we're going out, back in 3 or 4 hours. Amy's gone too, not sure when she'll be home, see you later." And before the echoing announcement faded away I answered back,

"Alright, see you guys later, have fun!" As I remembered the diary, happy I would have time alone. 

"So mom, let's see just what kind of a juicy past you really had." I thought to myself, opening the diary and settled down for a lengthy read.

I was riveted to the diary after reading the first entry,

Saturday, June 5th

I saw Frank again, he kissed me, it was real and I'm scared to death.

"Frank? Nah, it couldn't be." I thought, wondering who it was mom was writing about.

I read on and the mystery grew, with each entry making little more sense than the last, other than mom was obviously infatuated with some guy named Frank and scared that others might find out. I scratched my head and continued my reading, not knowing the answers would come soon.

Wednesday, April 10th 

I met John and his sister Jo Anne. They were very nice. I think they're like Frank and I, special, but I'm not sure. I'm scared again. Hope they like Frank!

"What the hell, what does she mean - special?" I thought, as my eyes widened over the disclosed secrets just read. More curious than ever, I quickly read on.

Sunday, April 28th

Oh my God, what am I going to do? Jo Anne caught me with Frank! She knows for sure now and if anyone else finds out we'll be ruined!

"Christ, what is she talking about?" I whispered to myself, more riveted to the diary.

Wednesday, May 1st

Jo Anne took me to lunch, I about died when she asked, but all is better now. She told me my secret was safe and confessed she too had been having sex with her brother, John! She said she had an idea and that we should meet later tonight… I'm scared again, but excited too.

I sat stunned, my jaw dropped and my hands began to tremble at the words I had read. "Mom – dad - Uncle Frank - Aunt Jo Anne – incest – Lovers?" My mind racing and reeling over the words and what they implicated, I blanked out and it was Amy that brought me to.

"What the hell Rob? What are doing with that diary?" Amy screamed at me, bringing me out of the dark place I was in.

"Wha, what? Amy! Where'd you come from? I found it, in your room. I tripped and there it was, sticking out from your bed…You knew, you know about this, don't you!" I suddenly screamed out, now fully aware of where I was and who I was talking to.

"Rob, listen to me, you can't say a word. You've got to promise me that, not a word Rob. Swear it to me!" Amy said, grabbing the diary.

"All right, all right, I swear! But, my God Amy, they're brothers and sisters and they've been fucking one another!" I mumbled, still trying to clear my head.

"I know Rob, I know. But they've kept it a secret all these years and they haven't really hurt anyone, you know? I didn't know until a year ago and believe me I was as shocked as you are. It took me a while but I've rationalized it - somehow." Amy explained, her voice dropping lower, as she added, "Just let it go Rob, for everyone's sake, please!" Amy begged.

"So you're telling me they've been meeting on and off all these years?" I croaked out, my mouth dry and mind still whirling.

"Oh more than that - dear brother, much more than that! They got married to one another just so they could keep their relationships quiet. I believe that's just about where you're at in mom's diary, judging by the page." Amy said quietly, knowing I was a bit fragile at that point.

"Look, you relax, I've got to pee and when I'm done we'll talk some more, OK?" Amy said, after seeing I had no response to what she had just informed me. 

Amy knelt, kissed me softly on the cheek and rose to enter the bathroom, saying, "I'll be right back."

My mind continued to race, as I watched Amy walk away. I felt my lips forming words, but nothing came out, as the bathroom door closed, but not all the way and left an opening. 

My eyes stared blankly, as I watched Amy slowly pull her shorts down and sit on the toilet. Apparently not noticing, or not caring, she lifted her feet, one at a time and removing her shorts completing, threw them to the side. It was only then that she looked up and saw my blank stare. 

Smiling, she shrugged her shoulders and lifted her hand, slightly, giving me a finger wave, as she finished and dried off. I passed out again, coming to hours later. It was dark and I could hear voices down stairs, they were back.

I felt Amy's hand on my head, gently brushing her fingers through my hair.

"Don't go down there, not yet. You're not ready Rob and they need privacy." Were the last words I heard, as I drifted back into a restless and nightmare filled sleep...

Waking the next morning, the sound of the shower greeted my ears. As the remnants of the messed up dreams, from the night before faded away, I laid thinking, opening and closing my eyes, when I spotted the diary, lying on my bed – Amy's bed now.

"Shit it was too good thinking that whole business was a dream." I thought, not knowing what to do or think, but I knew the urge to visit the toilet was very strong, as I rose and headed that way.

I knocked softly, just hard enough for Amy to hear and asked if I could come in before I pissed on the floor. I got an OK, and as I stood there, relieving myself, I asked Amy,

"Hey sis, do you suppose they had us sleeping in the same room for a reason? I mean I'm 19 and your 18 and it's been an…" Amy stopped me, sliding open the shower door,

"Christ Rob, don't be so paranoid and hand me my shaver will ya. It's on the sink." Amy said, as she peaked around the door, her hand held out. I reached for the shaver and turned to give it to Amy, noticing her gaze.

"Paranoid huh? And I suppose it's not my pecker you're looking at right now?" I asked, a grin forming on my lips. 

"Shut up Rob and put that thing away if you're done, it's distracting and we have to get ready. We're all going out this morning." Amy responded, grabbing for the shaver, but giving my hand a squeeze before she closed the shower door.

"I thought you hated me Amy?" I called back to her, as I exited the bathroom, closing the door behind me.

The day went by uneventful and, in the end, I found my self disappointed. I kept my word to Amy, I said nothing, but that didn't stop me from scrutinizing everything that went on. I watched hoping to see any sign of the incest, spoke about in mom's diary, but there was nothing. I'm not sure if it confused or amazed me, but it did raise questions that I wanted to discuss, later on, with Amy.

The evening brought another announcement, mom and dad were taking Jo Anne and Frank out to dinner and an evening of dancing, Amy and I were to fend for ourselves and don't wait up.

"Ya, no problem, there are plenty of leftovers. We'll be fine." I responded.

My disappointment ended as they left that evening. Walking out the front door, they left as brothers and sisters, not husbands and wives. As dad closed the door, I saw his hand reach out and grab Jo Anne's ass, giving it a good squeeze and heard her giggle. 

"So, little sis was right on and mom was writing fact, not fiction. Holy shit!" I thought to myself, as Amy walked into the room.

"So sis - looks like we're all alone. The incest twins have left, wanna fuck?" I said jokingly, giving Amy a wink.

"You can be such an ass Rob!" Was her only reply, as she turned to help out.

"Ok, Ok – I'm sorry, but jeez how much can a person handle in a day?" I called back, watching her place our plates and glasses on the table.

Our supper ready, we grabbed chairs and sat down to eat. I was chomping at the bit, ready to ask questions, when Amy apparently noticed and said, "Ok, what's on your mind?"

"Well, how do you think this all started anyway?"

"Hell, I don't know…one too many baths together?" Amy responded, shrugging her shoulders and taking a bite.

"Oh you're real funny. I'm serious here. This is pretty fucked up, don't you think?" I came back, a serious tone in my voice.

"Look Rob, what's the difference? Is it that hard for you to think that a brother and sister might end up having a sexual relationship? Is it that hard for you to conceive of at least one scenario that might lead to such a thing?" Amy said, anger rising in her voice.

"No… I suppose not, but to have four people all involved in that sort of thing - come on Amy, even you got to think that's a bit freaky!" I commented, reaching for more bread.

"I agree, you're right, it is freaky, but the thing is, they found a way to make it work and they're happy. How they found one another I'm not sure and only mom knows that. I suppose you're going to ask her now?" Amy quipped, reaching for her glass.

"Jesus Amy, don't say shit like that. I'm just curious is all and I'd like you to be a little bit serious here. After all, I'm sure you've read the entire diary by now." 

"I have and I've had a lot more time to mull this thing over. I've even researched the subject, Rob. Something I know you won't do, even though you probably should, if for other reason to understand more than you do!" Amy came back, a more serious tone in her voice.

"This could ruin all of us, Amy. You realize that don't you? Can you imagine what would happen to you and me if this thing got out? I mean, Christ, we'd never live it down…we'd be looked at with suspicion for the rest of our lives!" I commented, pausing to take a drink, looking over the rim of the glass, at Amy.

"I know damn it, I know!" Amy said, ending the conversation by standing quickly, grabbing her plate and turning for the sink. 

I'm sure I saw tears in her eyes, as she left the room, and I felt guilty for pressing the issue, it sure wasn't Amy's fault and I was acting like she had all the answers - stupidly so, I might add, and immediately lost what appetite I had.

Retiring to the living room, I sat watching TV, chewing my nails, something I hadn't done in many years. Trying to come up with the words for an apology to my sister was frustrating and made more so by the constant thoughts of our discussion. It was occurring to me that a simple "I'm sorry" might just be all I needed, when Amy walked in.

Looking over my shoulder I started to say, "Amy I'm so sor…" When she gave me a "look", that quickly shut me up, and walked around the couch to join me.

"What ya watchin'?" Amy asked, as she settled in on the couch.

Amy was ready for bed, wearing her white sink pajamas. As she bent to sit down, the living room light backlit her pajama top and her full breasts were silhouetted perfectly, as they fell forward and strained the light material, her nipples pressing hard against the buttoned fabric.

The vision disappeared, as she sat back and drew her legs up to hug her knees and she said, turning to face me,

"I know you're sorry Rob, me too. I shouldn't have got upset. Can we just finish the night out and go on tomorrow?"

My reply stuck in my throat, as my gazed dropped to the new vision Amy presented me, unknowingly. Drawing her knees up had stretched the pajama bottom material extremely tight through her crotch and the material now outlined her labia like it was painted on and not worn. The plump, puffy, lips of her labia were slightly spread by the material, as it disappeared between her ass cheeks.




The Learning



My name is Tabitha. I am a white 18 year old senior in high school. I have brown hair that goes to my shoulders. My eyes are blue and I have some freckles on my cheeks and nose. I am about 5-3 and weigh 120 pounds. My breasts are 34b's and I have been told I have a nice bubble butt. I am going to tell you a story about my first bondage experience. 

It was my 18th birthday party and I had a few friends over. My parents had some of our relatives over and some friends of the neighborhood. Doug was one of my dad's best friends. I had known him my whole life. He was my dad's age around 50ish but kept in good shape. He had salt and pepper hair and was about 5-10 and 225 pounds. His green eyes were kind but at times they could pierce right through you. He had a great sense of humor but when he got mad, watch out. 

It was late and I ran downstairs to get a pop for one of my friends. That's when I noticed Doug sitting by himself watching tv. He called out to me, "Hey birthday girl what are you up to?"

I replied, "Just getting a pop for one of my friends. "

He stood up and walked over to me. He asked, "Have you gotten your birthday spanking yet?"

I giggled, " I don't think so!" He smiled at me and I said, "Don't you dare Doug."

I tried to run but he threw me over his shoulder and took me to the couch. I was slapping his lower back and butt all the while. I was like a ragdoll to him. He was so strong and bent me over his lap. 

I was laughing so hard and screaming, "No! Don't Doug! I mean it! I'll kill you."

He laughed, "Oh I can see that but, I'm currious, how are you going to kill me when your bent over my knee?"

He pulled my tiny yellow shorts up so my ass cheeks hung out. Smack! Smack! smack! Smack! 

" Was that 4 or 5?" he asked.

I cried, "Ouch that hurt you fucker!"

He smiled and said" You're a naughty girl, Tabitha. Such bad language. "

He held me firmly in place then, Smack!Smack!Smack!Smack! It hurt for real! 

I yelled, "That hurts, Doug."

My butt cheeks were bright red. I looked into his eyes and he was staring at me like I've never seen him stare at me before. Smack! Smack! Smack!Smack! Tears started falling from my eyes. 

" It hurts," I cried. 

He rubbed my hot stinging ass and the weirdest thing happened - I raised my ass to him. I grabbed his calfs tightly in my hands. Smack! 

"Oh!" I cried. 

Again Smack! 

"Oh God!" I panted. 

I sealed my lips shut. Did he hear me? What was happening to me? Smack! It was a real hard one and I went mmmmmmm! He was rubbing my ass then between my red thighs. My ass shot back up to him then Smack! 

"Please! "I cried. 

I could feel his arm going up to spank me again. 

I moaned, "Yes!"

Smack! 

I almost came. I bit my lip and grabbed his jeans and just held on till it passed. Then Smack! My ass started jutting up and down and I called out, "Oh God!" I was quivering from head to toe. 

Doug's finger went beneath my shorts and panties. He rubbed my clit then pinched it and said, "And a pinch to grow on."

He pushed me off his lap,stood up and watched me. I was on the floor shaking out the last remains of my orgasm. He looked at me patheticly and said, "I knew it. Your a sub."

Then walked away from me. I didn't understand what he meant and at the time I didn't care. I was almost finished and if someone came down now I would be so embarrassed. I regained my composure and got to my knees then stood up. I felt confused, humiliated and turned on. Why? I thought why was I like this? What just happened? 

My friend Sue called, "Tabitha, where's my pop? " She came downstairs and asked me, "What is wrong?"

I replied, "What do you mean?"

"You're covered in sweat and your face is bright red."

I lied, "Oh, Doug just finished tickling me and I couldn't get away from him. "

Sue laughed, "I hate when people tickle me."

"I know," I replied, "and he wouldn't stop!"  

Then Sue and I went upstairs to rejoin the party. 

A few days later I visited Doug at his home to find out what he meant by calling me a sub and why he treated me the way he did. But that's another story.




(I know it's short, but I just wanted to try one of these stories and see how it was received. If it does well I may continue this story. If not I will leave well enough alone.)

Demon