Chapter 1: A Very Pleasant Evening at the Ball Park: Crushed!

Caution: This BDSM Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Reluctant, Hypnosis, Slavery, Heterosexual, True Story, BDSM, MaleDom, Light Bond, Anal Sex, Exhibitionism, .

Desc: BDSM Sex Story: Chapter 1: A Very Pleasant Evening at the Ball Park: Crushed! - Going to see a major league baseball game on a beautiful weekend day. What could be more wholesome and innocent than that?

With each step we took towards the turnstiles, each with its own friendly, uniformed ticket-taker, Jenny became more and more nervous. It was understandable, I supposed. After all, what grown woman dressed as an impossibly sexy Catholic schoolgirl wouldn't be nervous – especially when she's being taken to a very well-attended major league ball game on a beautiful weekend afternoon?

But Jenny was my slave. She knew the best way for her to happily get through this particular adventure was to follow my lead, and to trust in me to protect her, even as I was putting her on display.

Jenny had been my slave for about six months at this point. She'd been relatively new to the lifestyle when a good friend had taken her on as his submissive. I'd always been pleasant to her, but I kept my distance.

The reason was simple. I was waaaaay too attracted to her! Better for me to stay away and admire from afar, I thought, than to jeopardize her Master's friendship and respect for me. I liked and respected him far too much to even consider doing that.

Then her Master died, and she was devastated. Fortunately, she had good friends among the other submissives in the community to whom she could turn for support. They helped her in ways I could not.

She also turned to me. Specifically, she asked me if I would act as her Protector.

I was quiet and thoughtful before I answered her. I told her I would be honored to act as her Protector, but I could not do that.

I explained that I had very strong feelings for her, and always had. Because of that, I could not act as a Protector. It would be a conflict of interest. How could I dispassionately help her explore the lifestyle, and evaluate the interests others had in Jenny when my own desires for her were so strong?

She took the news well. What I didn't know at the time, though, was she had equally strong feelings for me.

After she'd had the time to mourn, and to sort her feelings out, she approached me to play her. The play continued over time while she gently worked her way into my heart. In the space of only a few months, she became mine. Or perhaps I became hers. It didn't really matter.

We were both very happy. That did not, however, mean I didn't make Jenny nervous every so often.

She was extremely nervous that day as we approached the turnstiles, even though she looked very fetching to me. You see, she was dressed in a not-quite sheer white blouse (no, you couldn't see her nipples through it, but it was light enough that you definitely could see the bumps), a very nice red tartan pleated skirt that barely reached to mid-thigh, white knee socks and patent leather Mary Janes we'd just picked up at the local fetish store.

She wasn't wearing a bra, on my instructions, but she was wearing a very cute pair of plain white cotton panties. In fact, the only things distinguishing her from a Catholic schoolgirl were the black velvet choker adorning her neck in the place of her regular collar, and the "slightly" (yeah, right) too-short for school skirt.

For a final effect, she wore a Rangers baseball cap, perched jauntily over her free flowing, golden red hair. I'd given it to her as a surprise and had her put it on just before we had exited the van.

Jenny herself seemed made for the outfit. She's 5'2", small-boned, and has silky smooth, creamy skin over a tuff little body. Even though she's not tall, her legs are perfectly formed, with pretty little feet, shapely calves, firm and shapely thighs and a cute, tight little ass that's to die for.

She has a dancer's body. While her waist is narrow, her tummy's not an athlete's concave tum, but is just the slightest bit rounded while still being taut and muscular, almost as if she is just outgrowing her last little bit of baby fat. Above all these charms, she sports a delightful pair of perky B+ breasts capped with small pink nipples that are perfect for her frame.

Jenny has a lot of substance and spunk to go with that hot, tight little bod, as well. She'd worked as a stripper to support herself while she worked to get her license as a practical nurse, and she'd pretty much clawed her way out of that lifestyle on her own after being pretty much abandoned by her parents. She no longer strips. Now she wears scrubs to work.

I also know of at least one instance when she stomped the instep of an unwelcome and obnoxious admirer in a bar, just prior to placing her elbow right in his solar plexus and then moving away quickly before he could hurl. She is no shrinking violet, not at all! But even with all that, as I told her parents once, she has one of the most beautiful souls I've ever been fortunate enough to encounter.

Jenny's face – well, she's beautiful. Her nose is small, just right for her, with a well formed mouth, high cheekbones and beautiful brown eyes. But perhaps her best feature is her hair. If one were to be totally non-poetic, they would call it strawberry blonde. To me, it is the color of spun gold or the white-gold color of fields of barley in the summer. To this day, whenever I hear Sting's "Fields of Gold," I think of Jenny and of her hair, spread beneath her as she would lie nude, with her feet drawn up to her cute little butt, reaching up for me and hoping I would just sink into her and consume her.

To cap it all off, with her creamy complexion, Jenny looks a lot younger than she is. She's 35, but can dress to look like she's in her late teens, if not younger.

Dressed in her outfit, she looked impossibly cute, impossibly sweet and innocent, and absolutely sexy! The hat had been the crowning touch. All I could think of as she preceded me through the turnstiles was the Joe Cocker song, "You Can Leave Your Hat On."

I was very proud of her – and also kept her close. I was sure any male with any testosterone in him whatsoever who saw her would be thinking only of throwing her over his shoulder and carrying her back to his cave. "Not going to happen on my watch," I thought!

Jenny clutched my arm spasmodically, whispering, "Master, there are a lot of bible-belt people here, especially the women, and they're going to get me kicked out!"

"Be calm, Jenny," I replied. "Your outfit is completely street-legal, you're not exposing any more flesh than many of the girls in shorts, and at least half the people here – all the males and likely many of the women - will be very happy you're dressed the way you are. If you meet someone you know we'll just tell them you're dressed that way because you lost a bet. And as for the holy rollers and old biddies, you'll almost certainly never see them again. You know I'll protect you from any harassment, don't you, little one?"

This last was accompanied by a soft kiss to her cheek and a caress of the small of her back, the place I always caress when I'm calming her, or when things are actually calm. It had the desired effect this time, and she relaxed a bit.

"I know you like beer, and I'm going to be rewarding you for being so brave and wearing your outfit by giving you your favorite too, little girl," I said with a smile. She perked up a bit at this, and looked me in the eye. "Thank you, Master, but may I have a big one quick, please?"

I smiled my acquiescence, and led her out into the stadium proper.

We were early enough that batting practice was still going on, and we made our way out onto the lower deck and strolled down the steps to our seats. They were good ones, behind third base and about 12 rows up, on the aisle.

Jenny got a lot of looks as we took the broad steps down, which she couldn't fail to notice. Her nervousness started returning. I merely guided her to her seat, sat next to her and ordered a tall beer for her from the vendor, along with a Coke and sac of peanuts for myself.

For such a small girl, Jenny sure could pack her beer away! She had the first one down by the time warm-ups were done, and the second one was gone by the end of the third inning, no problem.

By that point, she was starting to feel the effects, and she had relaxed considerably. She seemed to forget how she was dressed, and became a lot more animated as she got into the game. Soon she was cheering and booing with everyone else, and having a grand old time. I smiled, knowing what was likely to come.

By the start of the fourth inning, Jenny started looking a bit distressed (I love small bladder syndrome in a girl – it provides such a useful means of control and discipline!). She leaned over and whispered to me, "Master, I have to pee!" I smiled and held my hand out to her, having previously experienced what happens when you pour a lot of beer into a small little girl, and escorted her to the ladies' room. This time she seemed oblivious to the stares she still was getting.

When she came out, I bought her a corn dog and another beer, and we walked back to our seats. "This restroom trip was free, but the next one's going to cost you," I told her. The nervous look was back in a flash, and she whispered, "What'll it cost, Master?" I just smiled and led her back to our seats.

We settled back and enjoyed the game, but by the sixth inning Jenny was again squirming in her seat. "Master, please, I have to go again!" she said with her best pleading little girl look. I smiled down at her. "Are you going to pay the price?"

"Yes, Master," she replied, looking a bit scared.

The tunnels at Ranger Stadium aren't straight through from the stadium seats to the concourse. In this case, they doglegged right for about 10 paces, then left to the stairs going down to the concourse and bathrooms. As soon as Jenny had taken the right dogleg, I grabbed her firmly, but not harshly, by her neck and backed her up until her back was against the wall.

"Remember, I'd said there was a price, little one? " At her hesitant nod, I said, "The price is your panties."

Jenny's eyes got big, and she begged, "Please, Master!"

I smiled gently at her. "The longer you wait, little one, the bigger the chance someone will come around the corner and see."

With that, she hurriedly lifted her schoolgirl skirt and pulled her panties down, bending over to step out of them. Amusingly, just as she was straightening up with her panties in her hand, a female usher came around the corner.

Jenny quickly balled up the panties in her small hand and tried to hide it behind her back. I just smiled and held out my hand as the usher walked by, with a slightly quizzical look on her face. After the usher turned the second corner to the dogleg, Jenny handed them to me.

I looked her in the eyes as I brought them to my face and smelled them. Jenny's pussy, and her juices, give off a delicate, sweet scent – one I love. I closed my eyes, gave an "mmmm" of satisfaction, and escorted her the rest of the way to the women's rooms.

When she came out, she was blushing with embarrassment, but took my hand and let me escort her back to her seat – after first passing by a grinning female usher and then stepping very carefully down the steps to our seats. She was beet red, but she'd been a good, obedient girl so far. This was also a very useful exercise for her. She was also being trained to trust me to take care of her even when she was exposed, although she didn't know that. I was well pleased.

Then, after the seventh inning stretch, it happened.

Jenny was now in that very pleasant state of tipsy-happy, but not drunk. But now, it seemed, she'd developed an absolute fascination with my nuts. She kept commenting about how tasty they were, and how she'd love to nibble on them. She actually reached her small hand down to my lap to covertly caress them. With dancing eyes, she remarked softly on their salty taste and on how delicious they were. She'd had three full beers over the course of a couple of hours by that point, and was feeling pretty frisky.

And then, it happened. Her fingers closed sharply and convulsively ... and my nuts were crushed.

No, they were not just squeezed, they were not just pressed. They were reduced to powder. Oh man, did that hurt!

I looked at her now giggling face with shocked disbelief. Obviously, I'd let her have one too many beers! And then Jenny, her eyes still dancing, reached into my sac to see if there was anything left to find ... and she came up with nothing.

My sweet little girl had somehow morphed into a hot, mischievous little bitch. Pouting prettily, and with her eyes dancing, she actually had the temerity to ask, "Master, can I pleeeeeeeeze have some more???"

I sighed, looked around, and beckoned to the peanut guy once again.

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