Caution: This BDSM Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, BDSM, DomSub, MaleDom, Rough, Sadistic, Torture, Caution, Violent,
Desc: BDSM Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Little slut, just a dream of what could be, were time and space agreeable. You and I and a night with no boundaries.
Your beauty has been bartered, little masochist slut - a night, perhaps more - a trade with your Tutor, something new and juicy for him to make whimper and beg.
Dinner and dancing, that's the plan, that's what you've been told, you dress for it – hair and makeup, clothes and shoes. A cab to the restaurant and you're standing by the door, told to wait there for me – don't go in alone, I wouldn't like it – and people walking by see you there, uncertain. Some of them want to fuck you, some of them want to rob you, some of them don't notice you at all but it's a public place, out in front of a restaurant, what's the worst that can happen?
While you're looking left, I approach from the right and the first you know of me is a sharp point in the small of your back, right over a kidney, my breath – reeking of pot and bourbon – across your face, my voice in your ear.
"Ready for our little date?" I whisper.
You want to run, you want to scream, but you know it's all part of some game, some happy little play scene, so you don't say anything – you come along to my car and the zip ties I put on your ankles and wrists are tight, painfully so, but still you don't cry out, you just let me shove you in the passenger's seat like a good little victim and I start the engine and we're roaring away before it occurs to you that I might not be who you think I am – inside that is – that maybe you're destined for a ditch somewhere, your throat cut ear to ear, a final smile for the world as you leave it. But that idea scares you as well it should so it's all still a game, it's all still consensual, no matter how much you pretend it isn't and you're really the one in control here after all, aren't you?
It's a cozy little house, deep in the middle of nowhere, nothing but trees for as far as you can see – just a large room with a mattress and sheets on the floor, laptop on a table, a single bookshelf filled to the brim, not enough light to read most of the titles, but the few you do see make your breathing a bit calmer – "The Story of O", "Justine", "The Hell-bound Heart", "The Claiming of Sleeping Beauty". A tiny kitchen, a bath with a large, deep, claw foot bathtub – it's there that I lead you, throw some towels over the rim of the tub – full of water, almost to the top – and bend you over the rim, your belly – knotted in fear – resting on the towels, you catch yourself with your hands on the opposite side. You want to ask questions, your mouth opens, sounds starts to squeak out but then you fall silent, a combination of my whispered 'Hush' and the sharp 'click' of a switchblade opening rob you of your voice.
I cut off your clothes, all of them, ruining everything, even your shoes, the cold metal of the knife blade running over your skin like a lover, gliding along, the point occasionally pricking your flesh. While the shreds of your garb fall onto the floor and into the tub, I whisper "Don't move or else" and you don't – you stay as you've been placed, good little slut that you are, while I undress. You can't see it yet but my cock is rigid, veins popping, pulsing with every heart beat, straining to touch you, asking nicely and I give it permission as I slide it into you, your cunt ready, warm and wet and inviting, but you aren't so ready and cry out in surprise. My hand shoots forward and wraps itself in your hair, forcing your face into the water, you weren't prepared and you struggle to pull your head up but it's five, eternity-long seconds before you feel air on your face again and you cough and sputter, your entire body trembling from the shock while I continue to slide in and out of you. You hate me, wonder if I'd stop if you told me to, but you're afraid to test the theory, afraid I wouldn't, afraid I'd give you another dunking, afraid that I could happily drown you and continue to fuck you, inexorably, as your dead body lost its muscle control and your soiled the floor beneath your feet. Better not to know those answers for sure, isn't it?
My speed increases, sliding in and out of you like a dispassionate machine, and in spite of yourself you respond, you're excited and the uncertainty you feel flows from your mind to your cunt like a current of fire and you come, your cunt tightening around my cock like a fist. I smile briefly, moments later I smile again for the same reason. I wet my free hand's thumb in my mouth and worm it into your ass, the rest of my hand resting on top of your bottom, caressing you as my thumb rapes your ass – you have me smiling again, wider than ever.
"Sick little cunt," I whisper and you whimper your agreement as I rape you, though your willingness to play by my rules calls the whole 'willing participant/unwilling victim' issue into question as you come again - you realize you're not sure what game is being played but you can't help enjoying it, no matter what.
You feel me climax inside you, warm and sticky – you raise your head, your body, pushing back, trying to grind just a little more sensation out of it – as I'm reeling from the strength of my orgasm, my vision blurry around the edges I reach for a scarf and wind it around your neck, tightening it with my hand, and pull you upright.
"Time to move on to what's next," I whisper.