As this is going to be a series, there’s a large amount of backstory. If you want to cut right to the chase, look for the next set of dashes. I promise the next parts won’t have this amount of backstory.
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I’ve always, always been kinky. Before I knew what BDSM was, what a rapekink was, I was dreaming about it. I was showing off my body in my bedroom window, wishing the neighbors across the street would take the hint and drag me inside. I even thought about walking up to their doors, and lifting up my dress to reveal my body when they opened it.
When I found Literotica, and finally found a name for what I was, the hunger only intensified. I found chatrooms, webcams. Flirted, sexted, obeyed both online and with my first ever boyfriend. Before he even took my pussy, he was bending me over in the woods and taking my virgin ass. I remember the marks he left on my ass after, the small bruises from being spanked a small omen of what would come after.
My need, my craving to be dominated, even overwhelmed my own nervousness about my body. I’m half-Chinese, wear glasses, and stand around 5’3″, with straight black hair that (at the time of this story) was just past my shoulders. I’m on the overweight side (180ish lbs), but lucky for me, almost all of that is in my ass, thighs, and tits.
When I’m submitting to someone, when I’m showing off for them, the words my childhood bullies spouted at me faded away. I feel beautiful, am beautiful. Sexy, wanted, desired, perfect.
Or, depending on the person….A little fucking whore, worthless, a pig, barely worth the spit and cum and piss she’s showered with. A toy. A cumdumpster.
But….All of that comes after.
This is the first story of a relationship that lasted four months of my life, when I was eighteen years old. Some details have been omitted and changed, both to protect the identities of the involved parties, and to keep it predominantly sexual in nature. In many ways, this is also the tale of my worst abusive relationship. I will make sure that the abuse itself does not become the main focus, don’t worry. You’re here to jack off, not get upset.
It begins with me walking into Miskatonic University, my dream school. I was far, far from home.
(Obvious sidenote. This story doesn’t take place in the fictional town of Arkham, Essex County, Massachusettes. I am just a Lovecraft fan. It actually takes place in Dontask, Canada.)
So….I went on google, and searched the words “BDSM *university town*”.
The first result that came up was for a local dungeon, that was going to have an event that very week. With my heart in my throat, I followed the signup instructions, and tried desperately not to panic. When that failed, I emailed the organizer and explained to her my situation: I was an absolute newbie from out of town, had never done this before, and was scared out of my mind. She responded almost immediately, and told me that I’d be alright and everyone there was nice and welcoming. That she’d be willing to keep an eye on me if I asked.
I was finally going to get to try BDSM.
The event I signed up for is a munch (for those not in the know, it’s basically a dinner party attended by kinky people in a vanilla setting, so people can get to know each other/interact in a more neutral location). I’d never gone to one before, and according to the frosh week schedule, I was going to leave for it an hour into the university’s opening football game. Likely with facepaint still on my face.
The week went by in a blur. I was making friends, getting lost repeatedly on campus, and even had my first dorm room hookup. The sex had been good, with him being deliciously dominant, but it barely scratched the itch in my soul.
Finally, the event came. Unfortunately, it also coincided with my period. I didn’t specifically plan on doing anything sexual there, but still, wearing a pad the entire time was a bummer.
I had gone back to my dorm for a bit, just long enough to remove the facepaint, and change into a bit better outfit. Unfortunately, the only sweater I had was my oversized uni hoodie, but I prayed it wouldn’t matter. It’s not like I would be able to hide I was a student there especially considering the language barrier. (My university is an English speaking one, located in a predominantly non-English area.) I practically sprinted for the bus, shaking with nerves. I still remember finding myself a seat, and spotting people with leather cuffs on. I was so nervous about missing my stop that I think I stared too much, and made them nervous. Luckily for me, we got off at the right stop, and I was able to get to my event.
I was around twenty minutes early, so I stood on the ornate steps of the restaurant. The location was a church turned restaurant, known for its delicious (if expensive) burgers. I flicked through Reddit, barely able to read a single word. Finally, someone else showed up. She saw me, saw my terror, and immediately knew who I was. She was a lovely woman, mid-to-late thirties, overweight yet clearly strong (with tits the size of my head). “You’re Esme, right?” At my nod, she approached me, smiling warmly. “I’m Amethyst. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
I shook her hand, trying to return her smile. “You, too. Thank you for being so nice to me earlier.”
“Anytime! I’m always happy to help the next generation. How about we go on in?”
I remember the feeling of otherworldliness as I walked into the restaurant at her side, her husband following behind. He was around six feet in height, with thick arms, a strong chest, and a bit of a beer belly. His salt and pepper beard adorned his soft, fairly gentle features. I immediately liked him.
She led us up the stairs, to a more private room. There, we found a group already sitting. They were almost all in their mid-thirties and up, dressed largely plainly. I nervously removed my hoodie the second we sat down, feeling out of place around the crowd of roughly twenty adults.
Amethyst and her husband Ryan sat across from me, and the rest of the round table was filled without much further ado. Ryan did his best to get me to talk, to laugh, but I was blushing so hard I could barely make eye contact. The dinner passed in a bit of a daze, and I remember snippets of conversations I had, often with people who were often only partially English-speaking.
When dinner ended, Amethyst turned to me. “Do you want to come to the event with us?”
I nodded, and her and a woman I’d come to know as Peanut started discussing how to get me back home after. Google maps was pulled up, discussions were had, and Peanut agreed she’d drive me back to university when the time came. I knew from her eyes that she’d even take me home earlier, if anything happened.
The ride to the event was nervewracking. Ryan drove, with me in the backseat, mostly silent and listening to them talk. I was bundled back up in my hoodie, wondering just how I’d gotten myself int this. This was, of course–everything I wanted. I was going to get to try BDSM, and was even being escorted by the event owners themselves! There was literally no safer situation for experimentation.
Nothing, and I mean NOTHING, could go wrong.
*ominous muuuusiiiiic*
We drove far, far out of town. Ryan joked to me that this most likely looked like a kidnapping, especially as civilization was left behind.
We finally reached the small house that the event would take place at. It was two stories tall, with steps leading down to a small front porch. Ryan and Amethyst had me help unload their car, before Ryan took me on a tour of the building.
There were private rooms, some decked out with spanking benches, medical equipment, or four poster beds. One of the private rooms had a massage table in it, with a closet that had been converted into a cell. The basement was almost all open, with benches, tables, and even a St. Andrew’s cross. Toys, implements, and bondage devices hung from hooks on the walls. He told me some ground rules: Enthusiastic, informative consent was needed; everyone here is nice, but don’t be a dumbass; clean anything you use; no drugs or alcohol allowed; scenes are usually not sexual; things like that. He also told me that, should I encounter any trouble, he and Amethyst would always be willing to help.
The tour done, he deposited me on a couch in the main sitting area. A small stand in the corner sold different kink wear, and I found a leather hood. I bought it, my first ever bit of kink wear, and returned to my spot on the couch. I made nervous conversation with some other attendees, before someone joined me.
“So, you’re a student at Miskatonic University, right? We kicked your ass at football last year.”
I turned to face him, and my mouth almost dropped open.
There sat the first man who would ever truly dominate me, and I knew it from the moment I saw him. He was bald, early forties, German. Salt and pepper goatee, skinny yet strong. The clearest, sharpest blue eyes I’ve ever seen in my life. He was wearing a Fetish Weekend wife beater, leather kilt, and leather boots. An elegant leather flogger with a bulbous metal handle hung from his belt.
He was beautiful.
We lost ourselves in conversation, and it didn’t take long for him to take me on a tour. I didn’t even mention that I had already gone on one with Ryan (who I would later learn also shares ownership of the dungeon with this man), and followed him eagerly. I was enthralled by him. Enthralled by the confidence of a man known as Rick.
Rick’s tour was more detailed. He showed me specific toys that were hung up on the walls, asking me about my experience levels, kinks, things I wanted to try. I confessed how little experience I had, and I think that’s when he started wanting me even more.
The tour ended in the massage room. The room was average sized, with wooden floors and neutral painted walls. There were candles everywhere, all large and made of beeswax.
Rick asked me if I had ever tried waxplay.
When I told him I hadn’t, and that I wanted to, he asked me if I felt comfortable with us doing it together.
I don’t think I’ve ever agreed to something so quickly.
Rick smiled, and took my hand. “I’m going to leave the room. While I’m gone, I want you to strip to whatever level you’re comfortable with, and we’ll start from there. I think you’ll also be more comfortable if you wear the mask you bought, but it’s entirely your choice. I won’t touch you where you’re clothed, and I’ll keep the wax away. Is that alright?”
I told him yes, and he left. I stripped to just my bra and panties, tugged on the hood, and stretched out on the table. The vinyl of the table was cool, and stuck to me slightly. The ceiling fan spun above me, deepening the heady trance I was already lapsing into. The door creaked open not long after, and in came Rick. He didn’t comment on my attire, simply lighting a candle and standing at my side. “Let’s agree on a safeword. If things go too far, say ‘red’. If you’re not enjoying something, and need me to be gentler or change something, say ‘yellow. Do you understand, Kitty?”
“Y-Yes, Rick.”
“Call me Sir.”
The candle raised above my skin began to tilt, and the first drop of wax fell upon my chest. It was sharp, searing, and…delicious.
I couldn’t help myself. I moaned at the wax searing my skin, and moaned at every drop after.
The world disappeared. The voices in the hallway outside, the whirr of the fan above our heads. None of that reached my brain through the endorphins flooding my soul as he dripped wax again and again, hands tracing over my stomach and thighs. At his request, I removed my bra, and the heat of the wax upon my breasts brought even louder moans.
It was nearly orgasmic, the mix of sharp pain, submission, and anticipation. His hands stroked and caressed, yet never teased my nipples, never pushing and only enhancing. His voice carried on, his ‘good girl’s providing a beat to the music of my moans. My eyes rolled in my head, and the candle was now at half the height it started at. The wax reaching my skin burned hotter, and it felt like heaven. The dull knife that scraped across my tender skin, removing excess wax, brought trembles to my spine.
When we had worked our way through two candles, and untold amounts of time, we finally stopped. He cleaned me with the knife, following its roughness with gentle touches.
“Are you okay, Kitty?” Rick asked, his voice tender as he helped me to my feet. “Let’s get you some cuddles, eh?”
I tumbled onto the leather loveseat, and into Rick’s lap. He bundled me into him, curling us together. I melted into my chest, and I started shaking as the endorphins and adrenaline slowed down. He stroked my back, and we talked in low voices.
“You did so well, Kitty. I’m really impressed with you. You have an excellent pain tolerance. And you’re so beautiful!”
His compliments made my own logic fade even further. I voiced no complaints when he asked to kiss me, and even less when he asked if I wanted to progress.
Progression meant going downstairs, to the dungeon proper, and trying impact play.
Even fully dressed, my mask safely tucked into my hoodie pocket, I felt exposed as we left the room. Even though I was sure my moans had been audible, luckily no one showed any signs of having heard. Rick stayed close at my side, and he spoke jovially with other attendees, even though I didn’t really understand a word he said.
When we reached the basement, he took me to one of the more closed-off rooms. The room was much smaller, with a selection of toys beside a spanking bench–a raised leather-covered platform for kneeling in front of a leather ‘table’ to rest your torso on. To this day, I remember the feeling of stripping down to my panties again, and kneeling on the red leather of the spanking bench. His eyes were on me, and I felt the hunger of his gaze as I pressed my tits to the bench.
The first thing to touch my ass was his hand, tugging my panties up between the large cheeks of my ass. I mewled softly as he caressed my ass, soothing it.
Soothing it before he struck.
The first spank brought a jerk throughout my entire body, and a fresh cry from my lips. While it had not been overly hard, the sensation was multiplied by the fresh endorphins flooding my consciousness. He soothed where he had spanked, and the process continued.
Before long, things changed. Paddles, whips, and canes took the place of his hand. I yelped at the stinging of the canes, and half-groaned half-moaned at the thudding strikes. I couldn’t think anymore. I was dripping with arousal, my back arching as he sent strikes across it as well. My fingers alternated between digging into the bench and stretching out. The sound of the impacts, my moans, his encouragement….
I remember the strikes getting harder. I remember them getting faster, more frequent. I knew he was testing me, and lost in the haze, I never once asked him to stop. I never once asked him to lessen up. I never had to–if my cries grew sharper, if I started shirking from the blows instead of welcoming them, he’d ease up. He quickly changed the stinging implements for thuddy ones, and I basked in the world of thick leather floggers and paddles.
Sir was proud of me. As enthralled with me as I was with him. I felt it in the touches he gave to my body, the attention to the sore and reddened skin. I heard it in his voice as he routinely told me how good of a girl I was, how well I was doing.
He was falling for me.
All too soon, the blows ceased. He kissed the back of my neck, and I felt him press up against my ass, yet not insistently. I felt his hardness through his kilt, and I longed to rub against it, but I knew this was neither the time or place.
He helped me to my feet, the bench nearly tipping as my weight shifted. He supported me all the way to a loveseat, very similar to the one we had left not long before. We curled up again together, and this time, his hands roamed. Never overly, never pressuring, but he touched my chest and stomach and thighs, and delicately rubbed across the tender skin of my ass.
“I think I’m falling for you, Kitty. I want you to stay here tonight. I want you to be mine.”
“Yes, please!”
Just like that, we became a couple.
He told me I would create a profile on FetLife, and list myelf as owned by him. He asked if I wanted to stay the night with him, and I agreed without a second’s hesitation.
When I was calm again, my heartbeat and mind back in control, we left the room. He brought me back to the massage room, which still stood empty.
“Kitty, I need to go socialize for a while. Would you be alright if I left you in the cage for a while?” Sir asked, his eyes gazing into mine. I felt like he was tearing me open with those eyes, baring every thought, emotion, dream, and fear.
At my nod, he guided me inside, locking the cell behind me. I dropped to the cold wood floor of the cage, and used it as an excuse to nap.
I don’t know how long I slept. When he woke me up, he told me the party was almost finished, and it was time for me to come out and say farewells. Dazedly, I followed him back to the entry of the room, and met up with Amethyst, Ryan, and Peanut again. I also got to meet a woman who would become one of my best friends, Angelic. Angelic was tall and slim, dressed in a black latex corset that showed off her pale skin and large chest. Latex clung to her long legs, emphasizing their shape. She looked a bit taken aback at seeing me standing at Rick’s side, but her words were warm, welcoming, and kind.
After everyone left, I felt nearly asleep. Rick lead me to a room at the far back of the house, with a fourposter bed and scarlet walls. He stripped fully, and I to my panties, and we joined each other beneath the black covers.
I got drunk off his kisses, inhibitions melting.
“Look what you’re doing to me,” Sir pushed the blanket back, exposing his hard cock. Entranced, I shifted myself so I crouched at his waist, my face almost touching his cock. He continued stroking, long and slow.
It was too much for me. I lunged forward, plunging his seven inch length as far down my throat as I could manage. Even gagging on his cock felt like a heady dream as I slurped and lapped.
“I didn’t expect that….” Sir moaned, fingers gripping my hair.
I drooled around his cock, practically moaning with lust as I labored. I bobbed my head rapidly, sucking hard enough my cheeks ached. He rewarded me with moans and soft thrusts, letting me stay in control. I felt so beautiful, so pleased that I was pleasing him. So happy to submit. So fucking RIGHT.
“I-I’m going to…!” he stammered out, and I didn’t stop.
I couldn’t stop. I was craving his cum like it was the most delicious chocolate in the world, and I was on my period. I slurped, bottoming out on his cock, fighting through my gag reflex. Tears dripped down my cheeks, but I couldn’t stop. I needed this.
I needed to make my Sir cum.
And cum he did, with a harsh cry and pulses between my lips. It filled my mouth with salty sweetness, and I drank every drop down. With gentle licks, I cleaned his cock while he pet my head, breathing heavily.
Afterwards, I was again in the arms of my Sir, a place I would be for much of the next four months.
Tomorrow, Amethyst and Ryan would give me a ride home. Tomorrow, I’d have to return to university life.
But, tonight….
Tonight, I could fall asleep in the arms of a man I was starting to fall in love with. The first man to ever truly dominate me. A man who, to this day, is a standard I hold other Dominants to–in both a positive, and negative, light.
In that bed, far from university and further from home, with a mouth that still tasted of cum….I was at peace.
Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/hfc289/becoming_a_pro_doms_kitten_the_first_night_fm
WOW.
incredible!