The Estonian

by Jeremy Stephens

Copyright© 2011 by Jeremy Stephens

BDSM Sex Story: A story about an encounter - call it a one night stand that did not end as I expected.

Caution: This BDSM Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Consensual   Heterosexual   True Story   BDSM   Spanking   Rough   Sadistic   Safe Sex   .

I hadn't been to Helsinki in a while, but I remember it well. A small, beautiful coastal town on the south edge of Finland. It had a lovely harbour that freezes in winter. And people that are more friendly than anywhere else I have visited.

Although my memories were not recent, they were vivid, and I knew already where I wanted to go.

This visit I was staying in a hotel outside the centre, close to the harbour as the town hotels were full, but I was drawn to the crowds that can be found there this time of evening. I like to watch people enjoying themselves, to try to join in, although I am more likely to be alone at the bar than in a group. I find it a little difficult to make new friends, but tonight felt different, and I was looking for something.

I had eaten lightly in a small restaurant I came across while walking. Eating lightly for me means forgoing deserts, but I did have a double expresso to keep me going.

Then I found myself following a group of scantily clad people to the Theatre Night Club, the very stable of Helsinki's night life ... Entering, I couldn't help but immediately noticing a group of Estonians. There were around 20 of them, all seemingly having a good time.

As I took a seat at the bar I couldn't help but notice one of the girls began flirting with me as she danced, waving to me as if to join her. So when I ordered my next drink it seemed obvious to buy her a drink along with mine. It got me a dance. But it became clear that one of the men in her group was acting protectively, so I knew nothing would come of it.

They were not all dancing though. A few in the group sat quietly drinking, and chatting in a language I couldn't understand. I caught the eye of the quietest of them, a slender young woman with huge luminous eyes, as she sipped from a shot glass. But she looked away quickly, and wouldn't look at me again, so I went back to my position at the edge of the dance floor, watching and soaking up the atmosphere.

As I could feel the evening coming to the end, the girl I had been buying drinks for danced with me one last time, even closer as if to challenge her friend. When she kissed my neck I almost expected him to growl at me.

So I left. I walked outside, and was surprised by the daylight. It was 3.30 in the morning, and well past the May sunrise. There was a slight commotion behind me, and I stopped to look. It was the Estonian group, and the man I had been upsetting all evening. But his anger was not aimed at his girl.

I stood, wanting to see what was happening, and at the same time trying to figure out whether I wanted to walk back to my hotel, or take a taxi.

The voices were dying down, and the group started to move away. I wanted to wave to my new friend again, but was taken aback when the girl with the luminous eyes walked towards me. She gazed into my face for a few seconds, then put her warm hand in mine, and tugged me towards the line of taxis. The others glared at her, but she ignored them.

In the taxi, she still didn't talk, only held my hand, sitting quietly. I looked at her, trying to work out what was going on, but her return glances were short. It seemed intrusive to stare at her, so I gazed around feeling somewhat perplexed.

At the hotel, she pulled me impatiently towards the lifts. But once inside she stood still, and didn't make any move towards me. Maybe she just saw me as a safe older man to look after her instead of getting some pressure from her group.

I looked at her now, searching for clues. She is as tall as my shoulder, with light brown hair, very fine. And she has blue grey eyes that seem to hold the world. I looked into them, and she shivered slightly and her gaze slid away. The lift took forever, and it was filled with her fragrance.

She took my hand again and tugged me forwards as we approached my room, and the impatience was catching, creating an electricity. The door shut behind us, I had left my music playing earlier, and for some reason Viva la Vida came on at that moment.

I asked her what she wanted, but she just shook her head, and moved close to me, her eyes downcast. Did she even speak English?

I reached out, and cupped her cheek, easing her head up to look into her eyes. She looked at me, then her eyes slid away, then back again, evaluating, with hope, despair, and a depth I can't re create in words. I moved closer, and she didn't back off. So I kissed her, lingeringly, but lightly on the lips. She gave a little shudder, and just stood there. I kissed her again, my hand still on her cheek. This time her lips parted slightly, but she didn't respond with any passion. Oh well. I didn't want to force anything, but I was puzzled at her motives for coming with me.

I pulled back, and stroked her cheek. But then the world changed. She looked into my eyes, pulled my hand away from her cheek, and used it to slap herself. I was not expecting it, so I blocked most of the force, but I felt her jaw move. There was a look of total desperation in her eyes, a pleading that was more intense than anything I have seen. I shook off her hand, and slapped her cheek again, lightly. The desperation faded a little, and I saw her expression start to change. I hit her again, harder, almost without thinking, and her body sagged in relief.

The usual feeling came over me. If you haven't felt this, it is almost impossible to explain. I was brought up to care, and cherish, and never to hurt anyone. So there was guilt, tons of guilt. A sort of sick feeling at what was going to happen. But there is excitement too, a huge up swelling inside me. And arousal. God yes. I live for this. The intensity of what is going to happen far outweighs the roughest of sex. I can't even really say it to myself – "she wants to be beaten".

I slapped her again, harder still, and her face changed ... Her eyes, there is nothing to describe them. Excitement, a reflection of my need, the sadness fading. I pulled her very softly towards me, and kissed her lightly. Again she didn't really respond. So I pulled her harder into me, One hand behind her shoulder blades, cradling her into my arm, and my other hand landed hard on her bottom, through the summer dress. Her breath let out in a rush, and she shivered again. I pushed her back gently, and nodded at her. She nodded back, very shyly, but affirmatively. This is the contract between us, with no words, but infinite meaning. I find it very easy to care deeply about anyone who commits themselves to me, even for a moment, and she was no exception. I cared for her deeply then, I suppose I still do, as the memories and images of that night are burned deeply into both of us.

I pushed her towards the bathroom, and I heard her use the toilet. When she emerged, I left her standing there, while I did the same. I washed my hands carefully. When I emerged, she was gazing out of the window at the harbour and the ship just leaving, headed for Estonia.

I wondered what would happen if I just left her there, but I didn't want to lose the moment, so I tugged her away from the view. She resisted a little, but not enough to bother me, until I was sitting on the edge of the bed, with her over my lap. When I lifted her dress, I found she was not wearing anything underneath. This seemed like permission, so I started to spank her. Her bottom was bigger than I had expected, and each slap rang out in the room. After a few moderate spanks, I started to hit her really hard, but with a gap between each slap.

She wriggled, trying to get away, but I held her down. The roller coaster had started, and neither of us could get off. Her wriggling subsided as the spanking went on, she was flinching from the blows, and moaning every once in s awhile when I hit her. I would slap to a regular pattern until I saw her anticipating, then I paused until her muscles relaxed until hitting again. I thought about her as I sat over her, I wanted to make this a special moment, and I wanted her to care as much about me as I did about her. I don't know how long I spanked her; I try to count, and it could have been 200, but ... I was listening to her, the connection between us was intense, as she cried out, struggled from time to time.

I loved it.

I loved the way my hand prints were adding to her pink bottom. Occasionally there would be a red mark, and I could feel the heat every time my hand landed. I feel so tender at these times, so calm amid the violence. I leaned and kissed her bottom, very lightly, and felt the heat on my cheeks. Does she even realise how much I feel for her right now? Then I wanted more. I pushed my hand between her legs, and she was wet. She tried to close her legs against me though.

I stood us up, she shivered and swayed slightly, her face was red as her bottom, but now she could look into my eyes. I tried to lift her dress over her head, but there was some tie round her waist that she had to undo first.

Then her dress was off, leaving her naked except for her bra.

She has an amazing body. Her stomach is slender, but with full breasts above it. Her back is straight, with a hint of muscle, and a narrow waist, which flairs into a perfectly round bottom. A bottom that was by now showing some signs of wear.

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