The Training of Melissa

by Severusmax

Copyright© 2012 by Severusmax

BDSM Sex Story: This is a revision of my earlier tale about a stripper who also has a day job and begins serving a colleague at the same agency.

Caution: This BDSM Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Consensual   Heterosexual   BDSM   DomSub   MaleDom   Spanking   Rough   Sadistic   Swinging   Oral Sex   Anal Sex   Size   Workplace   Nudism   .

Melissa punched in as usual for her day job, yawning in spite of the energy drinks that she guzzled to stay alert. Her other profession was an open secret, but as long as it didn't interfere with her performance at this one, none of her supervisors would take any notice of it. She was popular with many of her colleagues, after all.

There were exceptions, of course. Crystal, for example, hated Melissa. She viewed blondes like her as the deadly enemy of the rest of womankind. Heather had a secret crush on Melissa and resented her for not sharing it. That Melissa wasn't a mind reader failed to occur to the forty year old brunette. Finally, there was Trudy, a rather strict Mormon lady who simply viewed Melissa as morally inferior.

That didn't count the men, but few of them had any issues with Melissa. The only one who seemed to expressed little or no interest in her was Frank, a new agent with a stocky build, but a rather nice bulge that easily showed through his pants. He looked rather ethnic, which was fine with her, since it gave him a natural tan and dark, curly hair. He also seemed quite willing to flirt with other women, which hurt her pride a bit.

She let it go for a while, but one day she passed him in the hallway and caught him admiring her ass. She knew then that he found her physically attractive, so there had to be another reason. She decided right then that she would confront him at last. The opportunity came in a bar right after work, on a rare night that she was off.

"Frank, sweetie, can I ask you question?" Melissa asked him in her Brooklyn accent.

"I think that you just did. Besides, it's 'may I ask you a question'," he corrected her grammar.

"Oh, an English teacher, are you?" she shot back, though a little impressed in spite of herself.

"History teacher, in a past life. It got old, dealing with mouthy kids and a disciplinary system out of Dr. Spock. It was Hell on Earth, at least for me. Don't parents ever spank their kids anymore, or even backhand them? My old man would have kicked me into next year for some of their attitudes," Frank grimaced.

"How old are you?" she asked him, getting curious.

"Thirty-five, I think. Sometimes, I feel like I'm a hundred. That's three questions you've asked me now, and I doubt any of them is the one tormenting you," Frank grinned at her, since he had a pretty good idea of the real inquiry on her mind.

"How perceptive of you. Yeah, I just want to know why you're not acting on your lust. I can tell that you're a red-blooded guy like everyone else. You clearly enjoy looking at my ass. What's wrong, then? Why don't you flirt or hit on me like the other guys? It hurts my feelings, to be blunt. What do you have against me?" Melissa whined.

"No, it hurts your ego. This isn't about love or other mushy stuff. You like being queen bee, having all of the drones chase you. What happens to the poor schmucks after they show too much interest? Are you the sort to dangle three or four guys on a string, while you already have a boyfriend? If so, do you cheat on him or just mess with the poor fools' heads?

"I don't have time for mind games. I've waited to see you in action before I fall for your little cat-and-mouse stuff. For that matter, are you single and simply playing the field? That would be the most scenario from my point of view. You want candor, fine, let's be straight with each other. Which is it?" Frank demanded.

"Wow, that's rather 'frank' of you. Okay, you got me. I'm a single woman who just wants to have a good time. Is that a crime or are you a hypocrite? Or is it just that you hate to be jerked around? Fair enough, but I'm not doing anything wrong. I'm just flirting with men. I admit that I like guys a lot. You're fun. I don't make any promises, at least not on purpose.

"Most of these guys are married, though to be brutally honest, that wouldn't stop me if I liked them enough. Hell, if I wanted a guy that much, even having a boyfriend wouldn't necessarily stop me. It's a cheating, but I'm only human, right? With most of them, it won't go any further than flirting, for the same reason that most guests at my other workplace get nothing more than a lap dance.

"It's attitude. I like it in guys. Not bravado, machismo, or trash talk. I mean things like brooding intensity, smoldering lust, stubbornness, and a certain sense of purpose. Most men these days are gutless. Feel free to blame the women's libbers. I do. They started well, freeing us ladies from stifling rules, but they neutered most guys somewhere down the line. They should have quit while they were ahead, if you ask me," Melissa ranted, suddenly realizing it and giving Frank an "oops" look that disarmed him.

"So, you're a maneater, but you're upfront about it. I can live with that. I even respect it. The cheating's a human weakness, mostly caused by society being sick and trying to force monogamy on a species of horny primates. That's true for both sexes. Double standards are stupid, though even I've been guilty of them now and then.

"My main failing is a suspicious and mistrustful nature. I see a lot of women who cheat on guys and then get all outraged when the man gets some of his own. There's a lot of that 'two wrongs don't make a right' platitude coming out of their mouths in a hurry. I have a different cliché that makes sense to me, namely, 'Turnabout's fair play.' This makes me a little jaded about women, I suppose.

"I believe in fairness, especially in a world that isn't fair. That one always gets me, because it's used as an excuse or a way to convince someone to put up with injustice. It's bullshit, as are many truisms trotted out whenever people find them useful or just want to sound deep. Most folks wouldn't know profundity if it bit 'em on the ass.

"Some of the parents I dealt with in the PTA meetings were real buffoons. Then again, so were most of my colleagues. It was just a job to them. There were a handful of us who actually gave a damn, but the rest of them were long since caught up in that tenure garbage. Once you had tenure, you didn't have to care about your job at all or do anything but go through the motions. Those teachers' unions are full of pencil-pushers who just want more perks and privileges, at the expense of the kids.

"So, what about you? How did you end up moonlighting as a stripper? Not that I mind. It's not my scene, because there's not enough bang for the buck. Sorry, that's just how I feel about it. I'm not judging, since a lot of guys find you to be of service. That's their deal. To each his own. I guess I'm something of a grouch at times. That's just me. I have an attitude, as you put it, so sue me," Frank finished his second Guinness of the night.

"I'll buy you the next ale if you keep talking. I'm starting to really like you, Frank. Not just because I think that you could fuck me all night long, though that's the impression that I get. It comes back to the attitude. I don't blame you for thinking that way about striptease. Probably more guys feel that way than you know. I'm personally glad that more don't, since that would be bad for business.

"I agree with you about the fairness and fidelity issues, not to mention all of those cute cliches. They get old after a while. I get that we girls are sometimes hypocrites, too. Another flaw. On the other hand, so is the guy who knows that I'm a stripper when he meets me and suddenly wants me to change jobs. It's okay for him to keep patronizing the gentleman's clubs, but not okay for me to work there. I've had that happen to me more than once.

"That's why I'm single this time. Joey never figured out that if he could look, so could I. I wasn't cheating on him, at least not at first. At the end, I did, but that's because I felt trapped and wanted to escape. I got my wish, when he caught me with three of his buddies. Okay, so I'm a slut. I really have no business swearing off other men. I think that I should let the next guy know upfront that jealousy's a deal-breaker. I don't really care if he fools around, as long as he doesn't expect me to wait at home for him. I'll be out getting some strange tail myself, not out of spite, just because I'm wild and I have needs.

"What I really want is a man who won't see me as just another stupid tramp, but as 'his slut'. By that I mean that he has his way with me, lets his buddies have their turn, and if he needs another girl, he just fucks her and doesn't apologize or make excuses for it. He also needs to take charge in the bedroom. I seem to be a magnet for guys who freak out when I talk about whips and bondage. They don't even wait to find out which one of us would be tied up. They just turn and run away. Vanilla guys are such bores. Yeah, I'm rather kinky. I like the whole BDSM scene. What are your views on that?" Melissa got out her purse and asked the bartender to get each of them a Guinness.

"So, you're kinky, slutty, and you can hold your liquor! Not a bad start. Here I thought that you were just a tease or a hypocrite. As it happens, I'm looking for two slave girls. By that, I mean willing sex slaves, not women I've raped and abducted. I might borrow another man's slut now and then, but I want that to be an occasional thing. It would be nice to have someone to offer as repayment for a night or two. Someone willing to be a party favor.

"As it is, I can't go to some leather clubs, because I don't have a slave or two yet. They require masters and mistresses to bring our own slaves. Most importantly, it would be nice to come home to a nice, clean place and two sexy women eager to suck my cock and bend over for me. If they don't mind popping out a baby or two, that would be nice as well.

"Want to sign up on a trial basis? We can find out if we're compatible or not. After say a week or month, we can decide if we both want to continue for longer. I promise to not to talk about your fetishes if you agree to the same. Obviously, this early on, you'd want to keep your day job. It might be fun anyway to work together and know that no one else has a clue about us being master and slave. We could even sell some insurance together," Frank smiled at her for a change as he drank the Guinness she bought him.

"Well, I could certainly use the sex. I get the feeling that in this game of 'cat and mouse', you're the cat. That's fine with me, since it would be a nice change to let someone else worry about making the decisions. I have enough stress in my life for sure. I'd love to relax and just do as I'm told. That's part of the appeal of submission to me. The other is just the danger. I don't know if that makes sense to you, but I like to put my life into someone else's hands and trust that they won't kill me. BDSM won't make me feel trapped. Jealous boyfriends do that," Melissa proved that she was no lightweight with her own Guinness.

"Why don't we pay up, get a cab, and give it a shot while we're not too drunk to enjoy it?" Frank proposed.

"I'm game for that. Here, bartender. Keep the change. Your place or mine?" Melissa paid the tab and got out her cell to call a taxi.

"Mine. I want to try out some equipment. I'll understand if you decline it, but I think that you might surprise both of us with your openness," Frank suggested.

"It's a deal. Maybe we should set a safe word. How about 'wiseguy', since you remind me of one. Are you Italian?" she wondered as they waited for the cabbie.

"Half-Italian, half-Irish. The green eyes are from Mom. Her maiden name was Corcoran. Dad was Frank Santino, Sr. Both of them were killed in a fire ages ago. Arson, to be exact. Some sick motherfucker who thought that it was cool to burn places down. They gave him the needle last year, the asshole. I personally watched it, too. I hope that he likes the fire where he is now. Old Nick had a nice one waiting for him, I'm sure. Sorry, I'm lapsed, but sometimes the Catholic in me still comes out. Blame Mom for that more than Dad. True Boston Irish, down to the regular Mass and a stint as an altar boy at her insistence. What about you?" Frank recalled.

"Also half, but the other half is Jewish. Typical Brooklyn mix. I was raised Catholic per Dad's demand, until Mom got fed up with his drinking and left him. She started taking me to temple. I was all mixed up for years, at least until I realized that people are still people. Church or synagogue, it makes no difference in the long run. Dad wasn't any more right or wrong than Mom. He just wasn't as keen on sobriety. He cut back later, though I helped him by taking some of his booze for myself.

"Mom wasn't too thrilled about that. She slapped me around for stuff like that a time or two. I finally stormed out at eighteen and went to Cali for a while. I spent two years trying to get into acting before I wised up. Mom wouldn't take me back, but Dad did. He wasn't nearly as devout by then. Mom then got jealous and I told them that they needed to stop fighting and work things out.

"Their divorce was never finalized, since Dad was still a little Catholic and Mom didn't like any guys enough to date them for long. The reconciliation was imminent when Mom found out that Dad had a better handle on the booze. Apparently, her few flings after the separation weren't half as good as Dad, which I learned to my fascination when I overheard them fucking. Yeah, I know, most daughters would be grossed out, but not me. Ah, here's our taxi," Melissa announced.

"Wiseguy it is. Let's go," Frank pulled her up, joined her in the cab, and gave the driver the directions to his house.

"How can you afford this place with your income?" Melissa asked him in surprise when they arrived and paid the cabbie.

"Uncle Lou, Dad's brother. Died of AIDS last year and left it to me. Aunt Erica was a real tramp of the worst kind and gave him a few presents, including two kids that weren't really his. He cut them out of his will and made me his sole heir. They took after their mother, so I don't feel bad about it. I just miss Uncle Lou. He was a great guy. Granted, he wasn't the poster boy for fidelity, but he had more class than her. I'm pretty sure that one of her lovers gave it to her, and then she gave it to him. It's women like her that give me a jaundiced view," Frank elaborated.

"I can see that. So, how about tying me up and taking your rage at my sex out on me? I promise not to fight you and I'll try to hold off on the safe word until I have no other choice. I'm eager to see this 'equipment' of yours," Melissa encouraged him.

"Very well, you asked for it, slut," Frank warned her, as he led her to his "dungeon", which was still a work in progress.

"Take off your blouse and bra," he instructed her, as she took in the dungeon that he built in Cousin Phil's old room.

"Yes, Master," she complied with a wink, using her expertise as a stripper to make the most of disrobing.

"Excellent work and plenty of creativity. Guess that comes with your night job. Now, take off your shoes, slacks, and panties. I want you naked from head to toe for this. Yes, there will be a lot of discipline, but I will also fuck you, of course. It will be kind of rough, though," Frank directed his new slave.

"Thank you, Master," Melissa made it clear that she ached for his dominance, as she continued her striptease.

"Alright, the first step is a good, sound bare-bottom spanking. I will enjoy this a lot, as will you. Turn over my knee," Frank said as he sat down.

"Please do, Master," she told him as she put herself in the path of his hands.

Melissa loved spanking and considered it one of the most sensual acts of bondage. There was something about the contact of hands to bottom that excited her. Frank's hands were a little rough, but he was a man who had been a lot in his life. If anything, the extra discomfort and the reminder that this was no wimp enhanced her pleasure. She creamed herself without any real warning, her thighs becoming slippery with her juice.

"You're very wet, aren't you? I think that you need a turn in the pillory. I paid well for this relic of the Puritan days. It's more of a replica, actually, but it works. The real McCoy would be unstable from age by now," Frank informed his slut, who felt her body tremble with both fear and lust at once.

"I'm very wet, as you say, Master. I'll be very good and submit to the pillory for you. Please fuck me in it, Master," Melissa begged him, as her pussy gave off the pleasing scent of her earlier orgasm.

"Oh, I will, slave, but first comes the discipline," he grinned as he locked her into the pillory.

Frank then brought about his flogger and started lashing Melissa's exposed body with it. She wept and winced from the agony, but she didn't say her safe word. Her body also convulsed with another climax from about the twentieth stroke of the lash. It stung her flesh, but that only excited her more. Again and again, he scourged her, much to her ecstasy. She couldn't keep a good count, since it seemed to never end. The flogger hit every section of her body and her skin was crimson everywhere. She didn't bleed, but she bruised here or there, as the whip struck her repeatedly and mercilessly. It was more hard-core than she expected for the first time, but she craved more with each kiss of the lash.

Frank didn't warn Melissa before he started putting lube on her ass. He clearly wanted to test her limits a bit, which was fine with her. It hurt like hell, but she wanted to know her capacity for pain as well. She also knew that he wanted to make it clear he was the boss. At any moment, she could speak the safe word and he would stop. She refused to do so, her chief motive lying between her legs as she came several times from the flogging.

The reality of a hard cock inside Melissa's ass might have been too much for another girl. It was too much, but in a good way. She came yet again, the power of the dick sodomizing her being a turn-on of a different kind. She was now taken, ravaged, and plundered. She was unmistakably Frank's slut, at least at the moment. She felt as if she had no secrets from him now, nothing that didn't belong to this guy. He literally knew her inside and out. She bit her lip from the pain, but she also leaked everywhere from her climax. It was the greatest, most earth-shattering, messiest orgasm ever for her.

"Ready to say the safe word, Missy?" Frank challenged her, knowing the answer, of course.

Melissa always hated being called "Missy", yet she didn't object this time. This time, it seemed an endearment, not a condescending nickname. She shook all over her body, yet she knew that it was because she had been owned and she loved it. She was ready to sign up for a year of this by now. She only hoped that he was interested in keeping her. She could seriously get used to serving this guy.

Frank now exploded in Melissa's ass, withdrawing to leave a massive load that leaked down her taint to her pussy and even to her thighs. He took several photos with his camera, wishing to capture the sadistic beauty of the moment. Melissa knew that Frank now had leverage over her, but she like that fact. He wiped off his dick and the bottom half of her body with a wet washcloth.

Unlocking the pillory and letting Melissa out, Frank helped her stagger to her feet. If she thought that she was safe now, she was wrong. He handcuffed her and stuck a vibrator in each hole, turning both of them on. He then approached her from the front and grabbed her hair to bring her closer to his cock.

"Suck my dick, slut. I want to fuck your throat now. Don't worry, I'll get around to your pussy soon. For now, however, I want to feel your lips and tongue on my cock," Frank smiled at her as he made his demand.

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