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Until quite recently, my only experience with anything even remotely
resembling D/s was an incident that happened when near the end of my sophomore
year in college - more than eight years ago. My roommate and I got into an
argument about whose turn it was to do some cleaning. I knew it was my turn
- and so did she - but I had a date and wanted to leave. We argued and
she got mad and decided that I needed a spanking. Since she was faster, and
stronger, I got a good spanking. She took me across her knee, flipped my
skirt up, and pulled my panties down. Then she gave me a good, hard spanking
that lasted for what seemed like hours but was, in reality, no more than
four or five minutes. But it hurt like hell and it was very humiliating.
When it was over I was sobbing like a baby and she made it worse by
slipping her hand between my legs and discovering that I was very wet. Despite
the evidence, I denied that being spanked had turned me on. But I learned
my lesson and never attempted to avoid my share of the work.
Neither of us mentioned the incident afterward and the school year was
over a few weeks later. I roomed with someone else the following year and only
saw Jamie a few times after that. After college, I came to New England
and found a nice job in a small town on the coast. I met a guy after a few
months and we dated, decided we liked each other, and got married. I've
been married for almost five years now and we have one c***d - a girl who
just turned two. I thought my life was settled and secure, that I was all
set. After all, I had a loving husband, a beautiful baby, a nice home, a
good job, good neighbors - the American dream. But I began to get restless.
I had the feeling that something was missing.
I did a lot of thinking, a lot of self-evaluation, a lot of
soul-searching. And none of it helped a bit. Then, one afternoon, a young woman at
work was talking about her weekend with her boyfriend. She mentioned that he'd
spanked her and I said something about spousal abuse. She laughed and
said, "No, it wasn't like that! He spanked me because I wanted him to - it
turns me on." I apologized for jumping to conclusions and we chatted for
another minute or so and then I went back to my desk. Later, as I was
driving home, I found myself thinking about the look on her face when she talked
about being spanked. And then I remembered the incident from my college
days. And it turned me on. I realized that I wanted to try it again. Even
after picking Jen up at daycare and driving home I was aroused.
That night, when Jim and I were finally in bed together, I mentioned the
subject of spankings and was surprised when he showed no interest at all.
Over the next week or so I mentioned it again several times and each time he
showed zero interest. Finally, he got mad and told me not to bring it up
again. He said he wasn't a wife abuser and didn't like me talking about
spankings and such. So I shut up about it and assumed that it wasn't in
the cards for me. Life went on and, to be honest, it was pretty good. A few
months passed and then one night when I was at my aerobics class I ran
into Jamie, my old roommate from college.
Up until now I haven't said anything about my appearance. I'm certainly
not beautiful and it's a stretch to even call be pretty. I'm average or
maybe a little above average. My husband describes me as `quietly
attractive', meaning I suppose that you have to look more than once to realize that
I'm not plain. I'm 5'6", 122 pounds, and have light brown hair and
brown eyes. I have a nice figure (34c-26-34) and very nice legs. I work hard
to stay in shape. I go to aerobics 2-3 times a week, run most mornings,
and lift weights with my husband a couple of times a week. The night I ran
into Jamie was a hot night in late July. I was wearing a crop top over a
sports bra, cotton panties, nylon jogging shorts, socks, and my favorite
pair of Reeboks.
I was on my way into the class when I heard someone call my name. I
turned around and saw a tall blonde standing near the entrance to the locker
room. It took me a moment to realize who it was. Jamie hadn't changed all
that much, but I hadn't seen her in years and I wasn't expecting to see her
ever again. She was even prettier than she'd been in college and she'd
been very pretty back then. She smiled as I walked over and held her hand
out. We shook hands and did the usual `How have you been' ritual. From
the way she was dressed it was obvious that she wasn't at the club for the
aerobics class. I asked her how she happened to be there and she said she'd
just taken over the club and two others in nearby towns. "I'm on a tour
of inspection you might say. I'm trying to decide which club to make my
headquarters."
We chatted for a couple of minutes and then I went to my class. We
arranged to meet afterwards and talk. I hadn't planned to shower at the club
that night, so I was pretty sweaty when I walked out of class and found Jamie
waiting for me. We sat down on a bench near the door and talked, catching
up on old times. After we'd been talking for a while she smiled and asked
if I remembered `the night'. I blushed and whispered, "Yes, I do. Very
vividly." Then I glanced at her and asked if she'd spanked anyone
lately. She grinned and shook her head. "No, not lately. Why? Do you know
someone who needs one?"
I hesitated, nodded, then whispered, "Yes, me."
She was silent for a moment. "Are you serious?"
"Yes, very." I glanced away, unable to look her in the eye.
"It would be more now, much more. I'm into heavy D/s. I had to give up
my slave when I came east to buy the clubs. She couldn't leave California,
her mother is ill. I want a replacement. Are you willing to be a slave?
What would your husband think?"
"He could never know," I whispered, answering her questions out of order.
"But, yes, I think I'd like to be a slave. It would be nice not to
have to make decisions. Only do as I'm told." My voice trailed off because
she was shaking her head.
"It would never work. He'd find out. And I'm talking heavy D/s. Real
slavery. Pain, humiliation, discipline. I'd mark you. Change you.
Subjugate you. You'd live and work her at the club. I'd have you pierced. Maybe
branded. I don't think you're ready for that. Are you?"
I shook my head. "No, I'm not. I don't know if I ever would be ready
for that type of relationship." I paused. "Will you spank me anyway?
Please?"
She nodded and got to her feet. "Come with me to the office."
I followed her into the administrative office and across it to her private
office in the back. Once inside, she locked the door and told me remove my
clothes, all except my socks. I took my shoes off and slowly undressed.
I hadn't bargained on having to strip, but it didn't bother me too much.
When I was finished, she looked me over slowly and said, "You're in great
shape. You have a fine body. I really wish I could enslave you." Then
she opened a drawer in her desk and took out a leather strap about 20" long
and 3" wide. She also brought out a pair of handcuffs and a ball gag. I
stared at them in fascination. "I'm going to spank you hard, very hard, so
you need to be cuffed and gagged. Any objections?"
I shook my head, too scared to speak. I felt like crying already. But I
was also very excited. She cuffed my hands behind my back and I opened my
mouth for the gag. When it was in, she tied the leather thongs together
behind my neck. Then she had me stand in front of her desk, pressed against
it. "Bend over the desk until your upper body is parallel to it, but make
sure your nipples are not touching the top of the desk." I did as
instructed. "I'm going to give you thirty hard strokes. If you move I start
over. Understand?" I glanced back at her and nodded.
Then it started. I heard the `swisssssh' and then the strap cut across my
buttocks. The pain was instantaneous and incredibly bad! I screamed into
the gag, tears running down my cheeks. But I didn't move. Not then and
not later. I danced from foot to foot and screamed my guts out, but I didn'
t move. If I hadn't been gagged I would have begged for mercy. It was
terrible. The absolute worst experience of my life. When it was over she
removed the gag, but left me cuffed. I stood there sobbing, tears streaming
down my face. She asked me if I wanted another 20 or 30. I stared at
her in horror and said, "No, oh god no! I couldn't take it."
She nodded. "Are you wet?" As she spoke, she slipped her hand between
my legs and discovered the truth for herself. I was sopping. She held her
hand up so I could see her finger covered with my secretions. "I think you
want another 20 or 30. Otherwise, you'd be down on your knees begging me to
masturbate you instead."
I immediately dropped to my knees and began to beg. "Please don't whip me
again. Please. Will you masturbate me instead? Please, Jamie, please
masturbate me. Oh, god! I'm begging. Please don't whip me!" She grinned.
"Down on your belly slut. Lick the tips of my pumps and admit what you
are."
I rolled onto my left hip and eased myself down onto my belly. It was
hard with my hands cuffed behind my back, but I did it. I inched over to her
on my belly and licked the tips of her pumps. She crouched and grabbed a
handful of my hair, jerking my head up until we were staring into each other'
s eyes. "What are you?" Her voice was harsh and demanding.
"I'm a slut," I whispered.
She slapped me. "Yes you are, but that's not the answer I want."
"I'm a slave."
Another slap. "Go on, continue."
"I'm a nude slave. Your nude slave. Your slut. Your nude slut."
Another hard slap. "Are you wet?" I nodded. "What does that make you?"
I thought for a moment, groping for the answer she wanted. The slaps hurt
and I was crying again. She smiled and slapped me again. "I like it
when you cry." Another slap. "Answer me!"
"I'm a wet cunt. I'm a nude, wet-cunt slave. A nude bitch-slut." I was
in pain, sobbing, humiliated, and very very aroused. More aroused than I'd
ever been in my entire life.
She released my hair after giving it a good hard tug. Then she stood up
and kicked her shoes off. I struggled up to my knees and she kicked me in
the belly, driving the breath out of me. As I writhed on the floor, gasping
for breath, she unlocked the cuffs and tossed them aside. "Get up and get
out! Go home to your husband and your daughter. You'd never make it as a
slave." The contempt in her voice cut me like a knife. I got dressed
and turned to leave. She called my name and I turned toward her, staring at
her feet. "Look at me you sniveling bitch!" I glanced up and she spat in
my face. I turned and groped for the door knob, sobbing, totally
humiliated. I found my car somehow and drove around for almost an hour before
going home.
When I got home, Jim was angry and worried because I was so late.
He realized I'd been crying and demanded to know what was going on.
He kept after me and I finally told him. "You wouldn't spank me. Tonight
I met an old friend from college and she obliged me. And I loved it!
She wants to have me as her slave!"
Jim stared at me in silence for a long moment. "Get your fucking clothes
off. Now!"
I hesitated and he punched me in the belly. I sank to my knees and he
crouched and stripped me. When he saw the strap marks on my buttocks he
punched me again, this time between my legs. I screamed and rolled into a tight
ball. He grabbed me and dragged me to the door. He threw me out on the
steps. Then he went and got my clothes and purse and tossed them out onto
the grass. "Get your ass out of here, cunt! Get a lawyer! Don't ever
come back or I'll kill you!"
I got dressed as quickly as I could. When I rummaged through my purse I
found that he'd taken my car keys and my money. I hesitated and then started
walking. I walked all the way back to the club, almost six miles. By the
time I got there it was after midnight and the club was long closed. But
there was an emergency number on the door and I called it. It took a
couple of calls, but I finally got in touch with Jamie. She was staying in a
rented house a couple of miles from the club. I told her what had happened
and she drove down to pick me up. There was no sympathy. Not then. She
told me that I had a choice to make. I could submit and become her slave or
she'd loan me some money and drive me to a hotel. She pointed across the
parking lot. "There's a dumpster there. Either walk over there and throw
everything into it, clothes, purse, and shoes. Or go and get into my van
and I'll take you to a hotel."
I glanced at her and started walking toward the van. Then I veered away
and walked over to the dumpster. I heard the van start up as I tossed my
purse into the dumpster. All my identification - my identity - went with the
purse. I stripped and tossed my clothes in. Jamie was leaning against the
van when I turned away from the dumpster. I walked over and dropped to my
knees in front of her. She crouched and we stared into each other's eyes.
"Are you sure?" I hesitated, and then nodded. She reached into her
pocket and took out a leather collar. She handed it to me and straightened
up. I glanced up and stared into her eyes as I fastened the collar around my
neck. Then she handed me a Master padlock and I locked the collar with
it. I got down on my belly and licked her shoes in submission, embarking
upon my life of slavery.
The End.
resembling D/s was an incident that happened when near the end of my sophomore
year in college - more than eight years ago. My roommate and I got into an
argument about whose turn it was to do some cleaning. I knew it was my turn
- and so did she - but I had a date and wanted to leave. We argued and
she got mad and decided that I needed a spanking. Since she was faster, and
stronger, I got a good spanking. She took me across her knee, flipped my
skirt up, and pulled my panties down. Then she gave me a good, hard spanking
that lasted for what seemed like hours but was, in reality, no more than
four or five minutes. But it hurt like hell and it was very humiliating.
When it was over I was sobbing like a baby and she made it worse by
slipping her hand between my legs and discovering that I was very wet. Despite
the evidence, I denied that being spanked had turned me on. But I learned
my lesson and never attempted to avoid my share of the work.
Neither of us mentioned the incident afterward and the school year was
over a few weeks later. I roomed with someone else the following year and only
saw Jamie a few times after that. After college, I came to New England
and found a nice job in a small town on the coast. I met a guy after a few
months and we dated, decided we liked each other, and got married. I've
been married for almost five years now and we have one c***d - a girl who
just turned two. I thought my life was settled and secure, that I was all
set. After all, I had a loving husband, a beautiful baby, a nice home, a
good job, good neighbors - the American dream. But I began to get restless.
I had the feeling that something was missing.
I did a lot of thinking, a lot of self-evaluation, a lot of
soul-searching. And none of it helped a bit. Then, one afternoon, a young woman at
work was talking about her weekend with her boyfriend. She mentioned that he'd
spanked her and I said something about spousal abuse. She laughed and
said, "No, it wasn't like that! He spanked me because I wanted him to - it
turns me on." I apologized for jumping to conclusions and we chatted for
another minute or so and then I went back to my desk. Later, as I was
driving home, I found myself thinking about the look on her face when she talked
about being spanked. And then I remembered the incident from my college
days. And it turned me on. I realized that I wanted to try it again. Even
after picking Jen up at daycare and driving home I was aroused.
That night, when Jim and I were finally in bed together, I mentioned the
subject of spankings and was surprised when he showed no interest at all.
Over the next week or so I mentioned it again several times and each time he
showed zero interest. Finally, he got mad and told me not to bring it up
again. He said he wasn't a wife abuser and didn't like me talking about
spankings and such. So I shut up about it and assumed that it wasn't in
the cards for me. Life went on and, to be honest, it was pretty good. A few
months passed and then one night when I was at my aerobics class I ran
into Jamie, my old roommate from college.
Up until now I haven't said anything about my appearance. I'm certainly
not beautiful and it's a stretch to even call be pretty. I'm average or
maybe a little above average. My husband describes me as `quietly
attractive', meaning I suppose that you have to look more than once to realize that
I'm not plain. I'm 5'6", 122 pounds, and have light brown hair and
brown eyes. I have a nice figure (34c-26-34) and very nice legs. I work hard
to stay in shape. I go to aerobics 2-3 times a week, run most mornings,
and lift weights with my husband a couple of times a week. The night I ran
into Jamie was a hot night in late July. I was wearing a crop top over a
sports bra, cotton panties, nylon jogging shorts, socks, and my favorite
pair of Reeboks.
I was on my way into the class when I heard someone call my name. I
turned around and saw a tall blonde standing near the entrance to the locker
room. It took me a moment to realize who it was. Jamie hadn't changed all
that much, but I hadn't seen her in years and I wasn't expecting to see her
ever again. She was even prettier than she'd been in college and she'd
been very pretty back then. She smiled as I walked over and held her hand
out. We shook hands and did the usual `How have you been' ritual. From
the way she was dressed it was obvious that she wasn't at the club for the
aerobics class. I asked her how she happened to be there and she said she'd
just taken over the club and two others in nearby towns. "I'm on a tour
of inspection you might say. I'm trying to decide which club to make my
headquarters."
We chatted for a couple of minutes and then I went to my class. We
arranged to meet afterwards and talk. I hadn't planned to shower at the club
that night, so I was pretty sweaty when I walked out of class and found Jamie
waiting for me. We sat down on a bench near the door and talked, catching
up on old times. After we'd been talking for a while she smiled and asked
if I remembered `the night'. I blushed and whispered, "Yes, I do. Very
vividly." Then I glanced at her and asked if she'd spanked anyone
lately. She grinned and shook her head. "No, not lately. Why? Do you know
someone who needs one?"
I hesitated, nodded, then whispered, "Yes, me."
She was silent for a moment. "Are you serious?"
"Yes, very." I glanced away, unable to look her in the eye.
"It would be more now, much more. I'm into heavy D/s. I had to give up
my slave when I came east to buy the clubs. She couldn't leave California,
her mother is ill. I want a replacement. Are you willing to be a slave?
What would your husband think?"
"He could never know," I whispered, answering her questions out of order.
"But, yes, I think I'd like to be a slave. It would be nice not to
have to make decisions. Only do as I'm told." My voice trailed off because
she was shaking her head.
"It would never work. He'd find out. And I'm talking heavy D/s. Real
slavery. Pain, humiliation, discipline. I'd mark you. Change you.
Subjugate you. You'd live and work her at the club. I'd have you pierced. Maybe
branded. I don't think you're ready for that. Are you?"
I shook my head. "No, I'm not. I don't know if I ever would be ready
for that type of relationship." I paused. "Will you spank me anyway?
Please?"
She nodded and got to her feet. "Come with me to the office."
I followed her into the administrative office and across it to her private
office in the back. Once inside, she locked the door and told me remove my
clothes, all except my socks. I took my shoes off and slowly undressed.
I hadn't bargained on having to strip, but it didn't bother me too much.
When I was finished, she looked me over slowly and said, "You're in great
shape. You have a fine body. I really wish I could enslave you." Then
she opened a drawer in her desk and took out a leather strap about 20" long
and 3" wide. She also brought out a pair of handcuffs and a ball gag. I
stared at them in fascination. "I'm going to spank you hard, very hard, so
you need to be cuffed and gagged. Any objections?"
I shook my head, too scared to speak. I felt like crying already. But I
was also very excited. She cuffed my hands behind my back and I opened my
mouth for the gag. When it was in, she tied the leather thongs together
behind my neck. Then she had me stand in front of her desk, pressed against
it. "Bend over the desk until your upper body is parallel to it, but make
sure your nipples are not touching the top of the desk." I did as
instructed. "I'm going to give you thirty hard strokes. If you move I start
over. Understand?" I glanced back at her and nodded.
Then it started. I heard the `swisssssh' and then the strap cut across my
buttocks. The pain was instantaneous and incredibly bad! I screamed into
the gag, tears running down my cheeks. But I didn't move. Not then and
not later. I danced from foot to foot and screamed my guts out, but I didn'
t move. If I hadn't been gagged I would have begged for mercy. It was
terrible. The absolute worst experience of my life. When it was over she
removed the gag, but left me cuffed. I stood there sobbing, tears streaming
down my face. She asked me if I wanted another 20 or 30. I stared at
her in horror and said, "No, oh god no! I couldn't take it."
She nodded. "Are you wet?" As she spoke, she slipped her hand between
my legs and discovered the truth for herself. I was sopping. She held her
hand up so I could see her finger covered with my secretions. "I think you
want another 20 or 30. Otherwise, you'd be down on your knees begging me to
masturbate you instead."
I immediately dropped to my knees and began to beg. "Please don't whip me
again. Please. Will you masturbate me instead? Please, Jamie, please
masturbate me. Oh, god! I'm begging. Please don't whip me!" She grinned.
"Down on your belly slut. Lick the tips of my pumps and admit what you
are."
I rolled onto my left hip and eased myself down onto my belly. It was
hard with my hands cuffed behind my back, but I did it. I inched over to her
on my belly and licked the tips of her pumps. She crouched and grabbed a
handful of my hair, jerking my head up until we were staring into each other'
s eyes. "What are you?" Her voice was harsh and demanding.
"I'm a slut," I whispered.
She slapped me. "Yes you are, but that's not the answer I want."
"I'm a slave."
Another slap. "Go on, continue."
"I'm a nude slave. Your nude slave. Your slut. Your nude slut."
Another hard slap. "Are you wet?" I nodded. "What does that make you?"
I thought for a moment, groping for the answer she wanted. The slaps hurt
and I was crying again. She smiled and slapped me again. "I like it
when you cry." Another slap. "Answer me!"
"I'm a wet cunt. I'm a nude, wet-cunt slave. A nude bitch-slut." I was
in pain, sobbing, humiliated, and very very aroused. More aroused than I'd
ever been in my entire life.
She released my hair after giving it a good hard tug. Then she stood up
and kicked her shoes off. I struggled up to my knees and she kicked me in
the belly, driving the breath out of me. As I writhed on the floor, gasping
for breath, she unlocked the cuffs and tossed them aside. "Get up and get
out! Go home to your husband and your daughter. You'd never make it as a
slave." The contempt in her voice cut me like a knife. I got dressed
and turned to leave. She called my name and I turned toward her, staring at
her feet. "Look at me you sniveling bitch!" I glanced up and she spat in
my face. I turned and groped for the door knob, sobbing, totally
humiliated. I found my car somehow and drove around for almost an hour before
going home.
When I got home, Jim was angry and worried because I was so late.
He realized I'd been crying and demanded to know what was going on.
He kept after me and I finally told him. "You wouldn't spank me. Tonight
I met an old friend from college and she obliged me. And I loved it!
She wants to have me as her slave!"
Jim stared at me in silence for a long moment. "Get your fucking clothes
off. Now!"
I hesitated and he punched me in the belly. I sank to my knees and he
crouched and stripped me. When he saw the strap marks on my buttocks he
punched me again, this time between my legs. I screamed and rolled into a tight
ball. He grabbed me and dragged me to the door. He threw me out on the
steps. Then he went and got my clothes and purse and tossed them out onto
the grass. "Get your ass out of here, cunt! Get a lawyer! Don't ever
come back or I'll kill you!"
I got dressed as quickly as I could. When I rummaged through my purse I
found that he'd taken my car keys and my money. I hesitated and then started
walking. I walked all the way back to the club, almost six miles. By the
time I got there it was after midnight and the club was long closed. But
there was an emergency number on the door and I called it. It took a
couple of calls, but I finally got in touch with Jamie. She was staying in a
rented house a couple of miles from the club. I told her what had happened
and she drove down to pick me up. There was no sympathy. Not then. She
told me that I had a choice to make. I could submit and become her slave or
she'd loan me some money and drive me to a hotel. She pointed across the
parking lot. "There's a dumpster there. Either walk over there and throw
everything into it, clothes, purse, and shoes. Or go and get into my van
and I'll take you to a hotel."
I glanced at her and started walking toward the van. Then I veered away
and walked over to the dumpster. I heard the van start up as I tossed my
purse into the dumpster. All my identification - my identity - went with the
purse. I stripped and tossed my clothes in. Jamie was leaning against the
van when I turned away from the dumpster. I walked over and dropped to my
knees in front of her. She crouched and we stared into each other's eyes.
"Are you sure?" I hesitated, and then nodded. She reached into her
pocket and took out a leather collar. She handed it to me and straightened
up. I glanced up and stared into her eyes as I fastened the collar around my
neck. Then she handed me a Master padlock and I locked the collar with
it. I got down on my belly and licked her shoes in submission, embarking
upon my life of slavery.
The End.
Uma
- 26.02.2022
- 23
- 0
