FEMDOM FIRSTS: How Dominant Women And Their Submissives Got Into The BDSM Lifestyle - Volume 1 of the WellHeeledDominatrix.com Collection (3 page)

He dove in, running his tongue around and in my ass. It felt delicious!!!

"Now, fuck me with your fingers while you continue your worship."

He obeyed and I could have let him keep doing that all night but, again, I had to stick with the plan.

Withholding my own orgasm (I didn't want him to get any satisfaction at all yet, even on my behalf), I kicked him back with my foot, and turned around again.

Displaying an exaggerated yawn, I stood, and said, "I'm tired of this. Let's go to bed."

I stepped out of the tub and Ben followed me. He started to speak but I turned, and put my fingers to his lips.

"Sssshhhh. You are not allowed to speak unless I give you permission."

He shook his head again. He was starting to look like a puppet, which turned me on even more. The more docile and obedient, the better. Power turned me into a bitch in heat.

I was standing there, and starting to shiver, when I realized there were no towels outside.

"Where are the towels, Ben?!" I shrieked. "I AM FREEZING!! WHY DIDN'T YOU BRING TOWELS OUTSIDE?!"

He grabbed his robe, and threw it over my shoulders before dashing inside to get some towels. Seconds later, he emerged, shaking as he tried to unfold them and wrap them around me all at the same time.

I said, "Dry me, and do it quickly but gently. Start with my hair, and work your way down."

He was shivering violently, standing naked and wet on the freezing balcony, but he used all the towels to dry me head to toe. I then walked to the door, leaving him behind, still naked and shivering. After I stepped inside, I took one of the damp towels and tossed it behind me onto the wet planks of wood. He knew that was for him.

He followed me inside and I could hear his teeth chattering as he attempted to dry himself by the fire with the wet towel. I stepped to the bed, dropped all the towels and the robe on the floor, and laid on the down comforter, enjoying watching the spectacle before me. He was still shivering and shaking, but his cock was rock hard. Power welled up inside me. I could have orgasmed right there but that would have to wait.

"Ben, why didn't you think to bring towels outside with you?" I asked. He turned toward me, and saw I was playing with my own nipple, rolling it through my fingertips.

He cleared his throat, and whispered, "I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry,
MA'AM
!" I yelled at him. I launched myself off the bed, and approached him quickly. He actually backed up closer to the fire, and put his hands in front of his face. It was so obvious that he was MINE right then. The ring may as well have already been wrapped around my finger! But, the plan had to continue because I was having WAY too much fun at that point!

"Bend over, slave boy!" I screeched again.

He looked like he was going to cry.

"Bend OVER! You don't know what that means?! GRAB YOUR ANKLES, BOY!"

He dropped the towel, bent over, and wrapped his hands around his ankles.

So sexy. Mmmm MMMM!!! There is nothing finer in this world than a slave displaying their bare, spread ass for punishment by YOU!!!

I stepped back to the bed, opened the nightstand drawer, and withdrew a small, black leather paddle.

Walking back toward him, I said, "You understand this is for your own good, don't you? You won't truly be happy until I teach you the right way to behave in your new position."

I didn't give him time to respond. I stood behind him, and reached out to stroke his ass cheeks, the flames flickering in the background. My hair was still dripping down my back. I placed the paddle on a nearby chair, and pulled my hair forward. I rung it like a rope, and squeezed it, holding it over Ben's ass. Cold water dripped between his ass cheeks. He gasped.

I then reached for the paddle again and, bracing myself with my left hand on his lower back, I swung with my right. It landed square in the middle of his cheeks and he literally jumped on impact.

I ordered him to stand up straight and I walked around him to get a good look at his cock. Yep. Still hard as a rock.

I said, "No whipping is effective until the slave loses their erection. I won't stop hitting you until your cock is limp."

He whimpered, "Yes, ma'am."

"Good boy."

I walked back behind him, and ordered him to grab his ankles again. Then, I laid into him, slapping his ass over and over again, leaving bright red marks, my breasts heaving with the effort. The room was no longer chilly. It was HOT and I was sweating with the effort. My own juice was running down my left thigh.

It took a good 10 minutes for that cock to shrink down to nothingness and only then did I let up on the whipping.

Ben was crying like a baby but my plan wasn't finished yet. Not by a long shot!

I laid the paddle on the chair again, took Ben's hand, and led him to the bed. Ordering him to lay on his stomach, I went to the bathroom, and emerged with some baby oil.

He winced as I sat next to him, and poured the cool oil on his burning buttocks. He then relaxed as I gently massaged it in while whispering soothing words of love and affection, while reminding him this was for his own good.

After a minute or two, my fingers started exploring past his buttocks, and in between his thighs. Ben instinctively spread his legs a bit to allow me access. I barely brushed the back of his balls and he started moaning aloud. He stopped, however, when I moved my hands up, from his balls, into his crack, and along his anus.

He tensed and I had to slap his oily ass, and order him to relax. His ass relaxed but I could see his hands had a steel grasp on the sheets. He was still a virgin! Could this get any more fun?!

He tried to protest the second I inserted a fingertip. I slapped his ass again, hard, to silence him. I pushed the rest of my finger in, and began to explore his prostate. He started moaning, and writhing back against me. That didn't take long. I'd have him all stretched out in no time.

I broke away for a moment, and went to my trusty toy drawer, pulling out a small vibrator. After lubing it up, I inserted it into his ass, and turned the switch. It began to hum softly and Ben was pushing back against me, fucking the vibrator. Every sign he had given me all evening told me that I'd finally found my soul mate but, just in case, I knew how to cinch the deal by withholding orgasm, the ultimate tool for ensuring a slave's loyalty. But, I planned to take it a step further...

Just as he was starting to get a firm rhythm, I turned off the vibrator, and removed it. He groaned in frustration. I leaned over, putting the vibrator on the nightstand, and ordered him to turn over on his back. Getting in my drawer again, I pulled out four black scarves. He didn't protest at all as I tied his wrists and ankles to the four bedposts.

I settled myself between his legs, and said, "Watch me. Do not take your eyes off me."

He nodded, licking his lips.

I reached for the baby oil, and poured it generously on his stomach, thighs and balls. He started grinding his hips toward me. I massaged the oil into his belly first, up to the base of his cock, taking care to not touch the cock at all. I then massaged his thighs and balls, slipping my fingers down once again to play with his newly deflowered ass. He tried to spread his legs farther but he was in too much of a bind, so to speak. I massaged around and around, never once touching his cock, which was now straining toward the ceiling, the head purple and swelling, small drops of pre-cum dripping down. I looked up at Ben's face, and smiled angelically. His eyes were pleading.

I whispered, "Tell me what you want me to do."

"Touch me! PLEASE TOUCH MY PENIS NOW!"

I smirked. "What will you give me to play with your cock?"

"I'll give you anything. I swear. Please! I have to cum! Please let me cum in you, ma'am!"

"Anything?"

"Yes, anything!!"

"How about a ring and a wedding date?"

"Yes, anything! Yes, I will marry you, ma'am. I swear it!! Please fuck me!!!"

He was sweating and shaking as my hands continued to swirl across his skin, always just missing the base of his cock. He continued to try to move his cock in the direction of my fingertips. He failed each time.

I bent forward, staring at him, and my tits were just centimeters away. He strained to try to move his cock tip towards them, wanting anything to touch him at all." I moved away before he could.

He groaned again, his eyes begging. My pussy was soaking the bed underneath us. I needed release soon.

I crawled over him, making sure that no part of my body touched his suffering, lonely cock.

I shimmied all the way up his body, dragging my wet pussy across his stomach, leaving a trail of my clear juice. I then put my knees on either side of his head, and settled myself on his face.

"Lick my cunt, slave boy. Make me cum or I won't touch your cock until our wedding night!"

He went to work, licking and slurping. And, cum I did, grinding into him until he couldn't breathe. I came all over his face and, when I moved away, my juices were dripping down both his cheeks. That was the sexiest I'd ever seen him up until that moment and I wanted to fuck him so badly but it was far too early for that reward.

Turning again, I saw his cock was still just as miserable as it had been moments before, tall, hard, and begging to be rubbed, squeezed, and given release.

I trailed my fingers around the base again, not touching the shaft at all.

"Please, you promised!" he begged.

Getting up, and heading to the shower, I said, "Yes, I did. But, you see, I've changed my mind, Ben. I've decided you need to save yourself for our wedding night. Why don't you think about how quickly you can make that wedding happen while I go wash up?"

"Please, Nikki!" He looked like he was going to cry again.

Turning briefly, I said, "And, remember, NO touching your own cock. It is mine now, to do with as I please. Each morning when you shower, I will clean it for you. I know that will be humiliating for you but that's the way it's going to be. If you're a good boy between now and our wedding, I might let you cum on our wedding night...or I might not. We'll have to see how well you behave." I continued walking toward the bathroom.

Defeated, he replied, "Yes, ma'am." After a moment, he called, "Can I get in the shower with you right now?"

I was too sharp for that ploy.

"No," I firmly replied. "You're going to stay right there, tied up, naked, exposed, and
HARD
until morning."

The Proposal

by Joshua

Looking back, I misread all the signs when Hannah and I were dating. Three months into our relationship when, at the end of an exhilarating duel of tongues, she shut down my hopes to go further. I assumed it was my fault for going too quickly.

Months later, when she would cease a blow job early, or end our coital entanglements as abruptly as they had begun, I assumed it was some fickleness on her part. I would have left a woman with a less captivating charm and I think she knew it. Instead, I found her as intoxicating as she was perplexing and, before I realized it, I was professing my perpetual love over a fancy dinner that ended with me unveiling a tiny sliver of metal and stone to her.

Looking past the ring into my eyes in her sweet yet assertive way, she told me to kneel before her chair with it. Assuming it was a matter of tradition, I indulged her, and knelt at her feet, while presenting the ring with a showy flourish. But, instead of the simple, unequivocal yes that I had expected, she cleared her throat. "I want to be in control," she stated with no other explanation, plucking the ring from my hands, and putting it on her own finger.

No sooner had we gotten in the car than I brought up that I had always considered her an equal in our relationship. When she rebuffed my concern, I asked if it was simply too soon, and if I had not adequately considered her feelings by proposing. She turned to me, and firmly said, "I will be controlling you more now."

Startled, I asked her to explain. As she offered details of what she meant, I began to see a pattern. It was in the bedroom that she craved dominion over me and everything she did was orchestrated to that end. Everything. Her decision to spend more time sculpting her bush than it would have taken to shave or wax wasn't aesthetic, but a way of reminding me that she was a woman, not a girl. Midway through sex, when she called it off, it wasn't tiredness or discomfort. She wanted me to go to bed wanting her. And, when she had given me a blindfold and restraints for my last birthday, they weren't intended to be used on her. As it dawned on me that she wanted to pursue BDSM in our relationship, I couldn't help but feel a sense of unease. After thinking it over, I resolved to indulge her at least this once, before deciding the fate of our future.

"Will it hurt?" I asked nervously as she fastened the thick restraints around my wrists, and tossed my clothes aside.

"Not much," she replied, without any sense of mirth. "It's more about power. As long as you're a good boy, you should be fine, though I do recall telling you that you weren't allowed to speak." She paused thoughtfully, "I think you need to be reminded that you belong to Lady Hannah." With that, she withdrew to my closet, leaving me to wonder what punishment she had in mind.

When she returned, she was wearing my favorite shirt, a tenderly worn t-shirt commemorating a concert I had attended years ago. It hung loosely over her body as she crossed the room to stand beside the bed. Peeling the shirt off in a single motion, she revealed a tight, black bustier and a matching pair of crotchless panties underneath. Leaning in, she whispered huskily into my ear. "We're just animals," she hissed. "We have to mark what's ours."

With a slight tinge of fear, I locked eyes with her and she smiled cruelly as she casually tossed the t-shirt to her feet. Never breaking her self-sure grin, she squatted until her eyes were level with mine, and released a thin stream of urine onto the crumpled shirt. Staring helplessly, fear washed over me as I wondered what my captor intended to do with the soiled fabric. Breaking eye contact, I glanced furtively at the drenched shirt, agonizing over whether she would make me wear it. If she intended to mark me as one of her possessions, this was one way to do it.