Owned....
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Posted:Jan 22, 2017 5:32 am
Last Updated:May 28, 2021 5:35 am 17976 Views
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Owned...
I stood alone at the Detroit airport, a thousand miles away from home, waiting for a man I'd never met, but in whom I'd invested so much of myself over the last six months. I felt as if my whole future was riding on this meeting; like all my years of searching, all my hopes and dreams were wound up in this moment. I wanted so much for Colin to be right for me. I felt like if I failed again, I wouldn't have the strength to look anymore. We would have four days alone, with nothing planned but exploring each other. Four days to find out if this compassionate man of words could also be the recklessly passionate Dominant that I had spent half my life trying to find.
I had been intrigued by the idea of submission long before I knew what to call it. A magical affair in college with an iron-willed older man had given me a taste of how good kink could be. He did things to me that I was ashamed to want, but he absolved my guilt by demanding them. He spanked me with my own hairbrush, insisted that I masturbate while he watched, and taught me that pain could intensify pleasure. I had few inhibitions, but he delighted in pushing at the ones that I had and expected unquestioning obedience. He made me feel sexier than anyone ever had, and there was nothing that I wouldn't try for him, at least once.
The affair was magically intense, but like a shooting star burned itself out in a rapid blaze of glory. Those were the eighties, and I lived in the Bible Belt, so as far as I knew, I was a sexual anomaly, alone in the world. The need to be conquered had been awakened and I would never be free of it. With no outlet for my darker side, I bound my feelings up tightly inside myself and hid them from the scrutiny of the staid, pious, and traditional world I lived in.
Predictable reality regained its stranglehold, and I lived the life that I was expected to live. I married a man who seemed to embody the traits I thought would translate to happiness; strong, macho, and oozing with testosterone. He provided for me and admired me, but I might as well have been a porcelain doll in a curio cabinet for all he understood about me. My passion slowly burned out as it became clear that the things I wanted in the bedroom held little appeal for him. He tried, at first, tying me up when I shared that fantasy. I liked it as much as I had thought I might, but he untied me immediately, bringing me back to earth with an awkward jolt. It was painfully obvious that he had done it just because I asked, and it was not something that he enjoyed. The high of a powerful climax fizzled quickly, replaced by the sinking feeling that there was something wrong with me. Even wrapped in his arms, I was alone.
As the years passed, it became harder and harder to ignore the fundamental problem; something I should have known all along. He was a man's man, and not really interested in my thoughts and interests. Our existence was mired in our ordinary routine, day to day trivialities was all we ever discussed, and uninhibited desire had no place there. I buried my fantasies, along with my hunger for affection. Sex became a mechanical process that we compressed to the smallest amount of time possible so that we could get back to our increasingly separate lives.
Most of the women I knew would have been happy to trade places with me, but contentment felt more like a heavy blanket in July than anything else. My husband's manly nature had not translated to the direction and structure that I craved but instead had left me isolated and lonely. He didn't want or need my company outside of bed, and he was unable to share what I needed in bed. I lived this half-life for far too long, and then one day, I couldn't live it anymore. I put an official end to something that had been dead for years and made a conscious decision to never again settle for ordinary.
The 80's were nothing but a bad memory, and the Bible Belt could no longer suppress the wealth of knowledge provided by the internet. With no one left to make me feel ashamed of my desires, I began to read pornography, gravitating almost immediately to BDSM. I was voracious, devouring every story about dominance and submission I could find. After a while, I realized that even the best stories were pretty formulaic, and I had to giggle at the cookie-cutter heroine. She was always young, strong spirited, and determined that the hero would never break her. Even when she began to realize that she liked submitting to the devastatingly handsome ne'er-do-well, she railed against her fate and wondered what was wrong with her for enjoying it. Not once did I encounter a woman like me. I was sure of what I wanted and had no illusions. I needed to be dominated and owned. I just wasn't so sure how to go about getting my heart's desire.
None of that stopped me from reading and rereading my favorites, though, fantasizing about the hero. My hand often slipped down into my panties, daydreaming about the perfect Dominant, constructing him carefully in my mind. He would be tall, dark, and experienced; bold and arrogantly self-assured. He would be strong and silent, and the epitome of masculinity, bending me to his will effortlessly. He would make me his own without hesitation.
I choreographed endless scenarios in my head, but they almost all ended with me on my knees, happily offering myself to the man who could possess me. Of course, there would be a token struggle, as a nod to the heroines of all those stories, but we would both know the outcome. Totally obsessed, I was determined to find the Dom of my dreams, and I began an exhaustive, methodical search. I had already had a lifetime of conventional, and I knew that it wasn't for me.
With the internet as my tour guide, all sorts of candidates were at my fingertips, and I chatted with dozens. The first likely contender was successful, determined, and very sexy. The first time we met in person, he turned me over his knee and spanked me until I was moments away from orgasm, and then forced himself into my mouth. I thought I was in heaven, at least for a while. It didn't last long. He was imaginative, attentive, and affectionate until I showed any sign of being able to make my own decisions. Then he would fly into a rage, and call me controlling. I was so inexperienced that I was afraid I was a bad submissive, but I also knew that I would never succeed at pretending to be helpless. I wanted a man who took pride in subduing my strong will; not one who made me feel guilty for it.
The next contestant was a man who understood the submissive role very well. He wouldn't let me call him by his first name, and was every bit as strict and structured as the Doms I had read about. He could make me wet with his voice alone and had one of the most beautiful bodies I'd ever seen. In bed, he went from tender to brutal and back again, in the blink of an eye, and it seemed to be very much like the relationships I'd read about. It only took a few weeks, though, to realize that he enjoyed humiliating me. It could be argued that every submissive craves being put in her place, but he elevated subjugation to an art form. Being with him was just another form of isolation, and left me feeling worthless. He enjoyed the sexual acts I craved, but I never once felt cherished.
Determined to expand my horizons, I had a brief affair with a woman. She was a Domme, and the novelty of being with her was thrilling; the ultimate unknown frontier for me. She was lithe and fit and every man I knew wanted her. Knowing that she only had eyes for me was such a deliciously dirty secret. The very first time we were together, she put me on my knees and tied my wrists tightly behind my back. Sitting in front of me with her legs spread wide, she pulled my face between her thighs. Her hands threaded through my hair held me fast, and I bathed her folds furiously with my tongue, as eager for her orgasm as my own. I came like a rocket, without her laying so much as a finger on me. But after the newness of pleasuring a woman wore off, there was little between us except sex. I learned that my body would respond to women, but I needed the security of a man's firm embrace.
I communicated with many others. There was no shortage of men with sexual fantasies who were looking for a playmate. I got very good at sorting through stories and lies, and actually met a few more, but found each more disappointing or terrifying than the last. By the time I found Colin on an erotic literature site, I had begun to despair. I knew just the traits I wanted, the features that should add up to a capable Dominant, but the people who embodied those traits weren't making me happy. I had chatted with so many men I couldn't even count them anymore, and increasingly they were fading into one big blur. What I wanted didn't seem that difficult; rugged, manly, strong, and dominant. I'd certainly read about that perfect man in enough erotic stories. But somehow, when I got to know those men a little better, they were no deeper than a dirty puddle.
Oddly, He was everything that I had never wanted. It seemed only logical to me that I needed a macho athletic type; a man of few words. His manly nature would make it easy for him to push aside my protests, and have his way with my body. He was none of those things. He was gentle, sensitive, and compassionate. At first glance, he bore little resemblance to my mythical mate. Cooking, sewing, and a passion for the written word were nowhere on my shopping list for attributes of the perfect Dom. I was very candid about my desires from the beginning, though. Having looked for so long, it was becoming easy to express exactly what I wanted. My yearning to be possessed awakened a part of him that had slept for too long, and we corresponded feverishly, my needs igniting his own. He questioned me exhaustively about my feelings, needs, and motives, and taught me more about myself than anyone ever had. His desire to be inside my head was nothing short of intoxicating. I knew in my gut that I had to meet him. If I didn't, I would always wonder if he could have been the one.
So now here I stood, waiting. He had called to say he was running late, a fact for which he'd apologized sincerely. It gave me more time to reflect, and I wasn't sure if that was good or bad. We had started writing to each other almost by accident. He had replied to my post on the website's personals page but obviously had me confused with someone else. I called him on it, laughingly pointing out that the woman in the red dress whose profile picture he'd appreciated wasn't me. He was so embarrassed that he very nearly disappeared after one message. It didn't seem like the smooth move the kind of man I had been looking for would make, but something made me keep trying. He was kind, respectful, and funny in his embarrassment, and hard not to like. He was articulate, obviously intelligent, and his words captivated me from the very first day. Within a week, we had exchanged almost 10,000 words, each telling stories long locked away from the world, the anonymity of the internet making it feel safe and warm.
On so many levels, he was perfect for me, but he wasn't the man I'd set out to look for. His tenderness and emotional strength caressed my soul, but he had always kept a tight rein on the alpha male that our conversations had released. I was afraid that his gentle nature would triumph, and he would realize that taking a woman roughly was something that only worked for him in fantasy. The shadow image of the dominant my imagination had conjured shimmered like a mirage in the distance, and my head urged me to run before it was too late. The terminal offered safety, but the hundreds of emails and confidences Colin and I had shared over the last few months kept me rooted to the sidewalk. I was wise enough to know that I had put myself at risk by coming here, but he was different from anyone I had ever known. My heart recited the precious litany of his words, and my head pounded from trying so hard to suppress everything else.
He had been raised by women. The only man at the kitchen table from the age of five, he had listened to women's tales and grievances and learned to be painstakingly respectful of them. The dominant streak in him, long suppressed, responded quickly to my need to submit. I am a strong, capable woman, and this neither surprised nor concerned him. He was not threatened by the strength and expected nothing less from women. The concept of surrender being a gift freely given from a position of strength was a revelation to him. Like me, he had not found what he needed in marriage and was now committed solely to a demanding career. This long weekend during a business trip had opened up for him suddenly, and it seemed like providence. I hopped on a plane because he was my best friend already. I had to know if he could also be the lover and Dominant that I needed.
I had slept with lots of men, before and after my marriage, but He had already given me many more firsts than any of them. He had studied writing in college and had a passion for poetry that I didn't share. Very early in our correspondence, he challenged that dislike. He asked me to read "The Desiderata" aloud and tell him how it made me feel. I didn't realize it at the time, but this was my first assignment. I failed miserably. I had done more or less as he directed, but my reply was sadly insufficient, as I merely said that I had enjoyed it. He immediately pointed out that my lack of a proper response amounted to disobedience. His terse redirection glowed like a branding iron and burned into my flesh.
"When I give you an assignment, you will carry it out as directed, and provide me with exact details. Now I need you to go into your bathroom, strip naked, kneel on the tile, and read it aloud three times as I directed, slowly, letting the words sink into you each time. Then you will write to me, describing how it made you feel."
Easily reaching across the miles between us, he took my hand and led me to the bathroom, pushing me to my knees. It was not the first time, and would not be the last, that his words would rise from the page and touch my heart. I will never be able to read that poem again without remembering the cold hard floor, and how connected we were in that moment. Making poetry sexy was nothing short of a miracle to me, but nearly everything about him amazed me. The months of correspondence had built worlds of words between us, pages each day. All now in my mind, waiting only to be lived. Unspeakable acts flowed from his pen; desires I could not name without stammering or blushing. I yearned for each and every one.
Hard as it was to reconcile him with the stern silent Dom I'd wished for, I had fallen in love with Colin almost immediately. He was a Renaissance man, able to do seemingly anything, but he was also the most sensitive man I had ever encountered. Eerily empathetic, he always seemed to know what I was thinking, and to care about my feelings. His need to explore my mind was terribly flattering. The men I'd known had cared little for women's thoughts, and my fantasy man probably wouldn't have, either. We had discussed sex more than anything else, but my heart whispered that our need for each other went much further. There were many things about him that appealed to me, but his intelligence and sensitivity were the real attractions. My will to submit was easily defeated by my own intellect and over the years of searching, I had come to understand that I could only totally surrender to a man who I could respect as my mental equal. I knew the decisions that He would make for me would be as good as my own.
I was painfully aware that what we shared in writing and phone calls wouldn't necessarily translate to sexual chemistry. We had discussed the elusive nature of physical attraction, and how our bodies might not follow our minds' lead. He had assured me that if we weren't compatible in person, we could still stake out separate corners of the room, and email each other to regain our happy place for the weekend. The mental picture made me smile, but it seemed like a very sane fallback position. I also knew, though, that it would very nearly destroy me. He was slowly redefining every truth I knew about men, and I couldn't bear to think about the possibility that our budding relationship wouldn't survive. My heart was filled with love, and I longed to share that secret with this man who had already become my best friend, the man I had yet to meet.
He pulled up to the curb in front of me, breaking into my thoughts abruptly. I took a deep breath and stepped forward to that place where fantasy meets reality. We had exchanged pictures eventually, after so many words a bit reluctant to dilute the voices of our hearts with images. He was no fonder of being photographed than I was, and had sent a picture taken with his laptop. The lighting was soft, and his shirt casual, but it was little more than a headshot. His eyes held a gentleness and depth that spoke of the empathy behind them and assured me that I would always be safe.
Today, however, he was between business meetings and wore a suit. It made him look more like the Dom of my favorite stories. It also made him look more formidable than I had expected and less accessible. He came around the car quickly, took my bag without asking, and moved briskly about the business of storing it in the trunk. His gentle nature and absolute transparency had given me the courage to come here alone, and now it seemed conspicuously absent, replaced by brusque efficiency. In person, the fact that he was seven inches taller was impossible to ignore, and I swallowed quickly, trying to reconcile this intimidating stranger with the photograph I'd memorized.
We had talked so much about this first meeting that I thought I knew exactly what to expect. He had teasingly threatened to push me to my knees beside the car, pulling my face to his groin, reminding me of my place. There had also been many frank conversations about pain, and the fact that it was a sexual trigger for me; that I loved to be spanked. It seemed to intrigue him intellectually almost as much as it stirred his desire. The idea that I might enjoy the suffering that he wanted to inflict compelled him. Even so, it shocked me when he pushed me down over the seat of his rented minivan, bending me in front of everyone at the crowded airport. He held my head down on the cloth seat, and stroked my ass, approving of the thin skirt I'd worn at his direction. When his fingers found the line of my panties, he lifted my skirt, his voice a low growl in my ear.
"I told you not to wear panties. You've already earned your first spanking."
My feeble protests about people seeing us were well muffled by the upholstery. He delivered three sharp slaps to each cheek before smoothing down my skirt and allowing me to stand. He smiled for the first time, amused at my obvious embarrassment over something we'd discussed many times. I felt my face flush and waited for something from him to ease the awkwardness of the situation, but he just held the door open silently, waiting for me to get in.
After I was settled, he reached across me to fasten my seat belt, still disconcertingly silent. My bottom tingled from those quick slaps, but it seemed sadly anti-climactic and left me needing more. Even after all the desires we'd expressed and dissected, the ride was awkward, and the conversation that had flowed so easily for months now seemed strained. I had fallen hard for a passionate intellectual with the soul of a poet, but maybe I'd only seen what I needed. My track record was alarmingly dismal, and I began to be afraid that I'd made another mistake. I had been on the verge of telling him that I loved him. Now I couldn't even seem to make small talk.
It suddenly dawned on me that the men I had always gravitated toward seemed to not like women much. Women were for filling the spaces in their lives. Halftime entertainment. Once their passion was spent, there was no further reason to pretend they were interested in emotions. He had seemed very different, but when he casually announced that he had to go back to work that afternoon, it made me wonder if he was just more of the same. Where was the exceptional man I had fallen in love with? Now there was a dispassionate stranger beside me, making small talk about the map. The enormity of the leap I'd made in coming here began to hammer at my temples.
He was staying close to the airport, but the drive seemed to take forever as I searched fruitlessly for witty conversation. The hotel was full, and the only parking available left us with a very long walk to his room. He handed me the smaller of my two bags without a word, and set off quickly, with little regard for my inability to match his pace. It almost felt like he was trying to get away. We had not hugged or kissed and had exchanged few words. Now I was almost running, trying to keep up with him. By the time he stopped and pulled a key card out of his wallet, the butterflies in my stomach were approaching frenzy status. No longer sure of anything, I followed him into the room, slowly, almost numb. When the door closed behind us, he finally broke the silence that had descended upon us. His only words were simple and direct; oddly calming and unsettling, all at once.
"Take your clothes off, Pet."
From our very first phone conversation, he had called me 'Pet'. The familiarity of the endearment reassured me, at the same time that his tone and the finality of the command unnerved me. He had seen pictures, carefully posed and cropped to show my best. He had not seen me naked, up close, with all my imperfections on display. My fingers trembled as I unbuttoned my blouse slowly, eyes locked on his, needing some sign from him, but unable to name it. There was no doubt there, and none of the gentleness that I had come to expect from him, only quiet authority. I was now shivering from a mix of hope and fear, but I did as I was told. All too soon I stood naked before him, unsure what to do, mesmerized by the raw need in his expression. He asked me to turn around slowly, and his eyes traveled my body greedily, as if he were memorizing every detail. I had no doubt that he saw every inch of me, but still no indication if he found me pleasing.
"Come. Take my shoes off."
His simple words were those of the man I'd fallen in love with, and my uncertainty burned away like early morning mist in the sun. I knelt at his feet, my breath coming fast and ragged as I obeyed, intensely aware of the service I yearned to provide. He made no effort to lighten the weight of his foot on my thigh as I untied his shoe, and the very solidity of it centered me like nothing I'd ever experienced before. Naked at the feet of this fully clothed man, there was no way to escape my position. He was using me as his property, and it took me back instantly to the first time he'd made me kneel, and the serenity it brought me. Calm now, I followed his patient, precise instructions, the sound of his voice like warm honey over my body. He directed me to remain on my knees, and remove the rest of his clothing, folding each item neatly before being allowed to proceed.
I had been afraid all along that he would be too gentle and considerate. My dream Dom took what he wanted, and damn the consequences. I was afraid that His compassionate nature would make him hesitant and unsure. He quickly proved me wrong. His hands were everywhere, fierce and urgent, bruising my flesh as his teeth sank into my neck. I whimpered softly, but the gush between my thighs was undeniable. The hunger we had both suppressed too long quickly banished the painful shyness of the car ride. I expected him to throw me onto the bed and claim his prize. He had other ideas.
He wound my hair around his hand and pushed me roughly to the desk. He grabbed a pillow from the bed to soften the unforgiving edge, and bent me over it. He spread my ankles and tied them to the legs of the desk with bandanas he pulled from his suitcase. He worked so quickly that I realized it had been his plan all along. He then tied my wrists to the opposite legs, securing me across the table. My earlier panic returned as I realized the extent of my helplessness. I spoke his name softly, afraid, desperately needing reassurance. The only reply to my quiet appeal was an extra bandana pushed firmly into my mouth. I shook my head violently, trying in vain to dislodge it, my mind racing even faster than my heart. My fantasy began to evaporate, leaving cold reality in its place. For all the words we had exchanged, this was still a stranger, and I was now naked and helpless before him. I suddenly felt that I had been an optimistic fool, and now I was going to pay the price. Then, gentle fingers closed over mine, manipulating them, forming a peace sign. The safe sign that we'd discussed many times.
"Pet, one signal from you and this all goes away. You will always be safe with me. Even if it's our own madness I'm saving you from."
He had never failed to understand what I needed, and just what I was feeling, and I couldn't believe I'd forgotten that. He gently bent my fingers into each of the simple signs we had agreed to use: green, yellow, and red for all stop. His hands on mine reminded me that I still had choices. I adored his care and tenderness, but I was also fascinated by glimpses of the beast tightly leashed inside him. Suddenly, he was the fire-breathing dragon and the white knight all rolled into one.
"Pet. I'm waiting. Are we okay?"
My words taken away, I nodded my head slowly, steeling myself for what I feared, but had so long desired. He started slowly, letting my anticipation build, letting the helplessness of my situation tease the moisture from me. He showed me the cane he had cut; three feet of supple willow branch as thick as his pinky. Taking advantage of my spread legs, he ran the smooth shaft between my already slick lips, telling me about cutting it, and how it would feel on my skin. The fact that the branch came away from my folds damp was not lost on him. He stroked me gently, kissing my neck softly, leaving me ill prepared for what would follow.
The first lash took my breath away, white-hot pain making me buck against the desk. Nearly unbearable at first, agony almost immediately radiated from the blow. Heat and pain flowed smoothly towards nerve endings far away, changing slowly into pleasure. His hands gently stroked the welt that was already forming, and I arched my back wantonly; a silent plea for more. The cane slashed lower this time, across my upper thighs, and I moaned, lost in the swirling sensations. The pain was so sharp that I couldn't hold still, but I wanted more, wetter than I had ever been. There was no pride left, my thoughts were still, my passion now completely in control. One minute I was twisting my hips to escape the blows; then I would arch my back to invite the next. I was increasingly desperate for release, but could no longer ask for it.
He paced himself, carefully controlled, taking time between strikes, caressing me with the cane, showing me where the next blow would land. Harsh lashes were followed by knowing fingers that explored the wetness he had created. He circled me as he worked, one minute rubbing his silky cock across my face, the next shaping my fingers into my safe sign. My ass was on fire and coherent thought was difficult, but I knew I was safe, and that he would not take me anywhere I didn't want to go.
I have no idea how long this cycle continued, but I know that his pace increased as he gauged my responses, learning my tolerance. My body finally betrayed me, and the rain of blows brought me to a shuddering climax before he laid down the cane. He gently untied the bandanas that bound me, but when I was free, his grip was brutal as he pulled me up from the desk by my hair, and whispered in my ear.
"That is the last time you will ever cum without my permission."
He pushed me across the bed, face down, and straddled my thighs with little concern for the havoc he had wreaked on my bottom. The homey smell of clean linen filled my nose, and seemed oddly out of place with the undignified position. No longer bound, I was still completely at his mercy, and now a little nervous, resigned to pay the piper. He had given me intense pleasure, but I had never been able to climax more than once, and wondered how long I would be pinned to the bed while he sought his release. I had too many bad memories of lying beneath a grunting man, spent, dry, and praying for him to finish and let me up.
The minute he entered me, I knew that this was different. He held my thighs tightly together between his knees, and it made me intensely aware of every inch of him, sliding slowly into me. I was held firmly, owned completely, and had never felt freer. Rather than wishing for the end, I felt myself responding to him as strongly as if we'd just begun. Unbelievably, I felt another orgasm rising, and he sensed it, pushing deeper, urging me on. He yanked the bandana out of my mouth roughly, and a voice I barely recognized as my own managed two words.
"Sir, please..."
I wasn't even certain what I was asking for, but he was.
"Say it, Pet. Ask me. Your pleasure belongs to me now."
"Please may I cum, Sir?"
It was the first time I'd ever spoken those words, though I'd read them many times. They were instantly right, and my heart soared. He had inhabited my head for months, but he had now claimed my body just as surely. He chuckled and gave his permission, riding hard down into me, restraint forgotten. My body contracted to a white hot point, and I was wracked with spasms stronger than I had ever known. The orgasm consumed me just as he had, and there was little left of me that did not belong to him.
I had barely stopped shaking when I heard the unmistakable plastic click of my bottle of lube being opened, then the shock of cool liquid between my cheeks. Anal sex had been something I'd enjoyed before, but it had been a very long time, and I had never lost the tinge of fear that came with the desire. I stiffened beneath him, but he leaned down to kiss my neck, whispering a gentle reminder.
"You belong to me, and I take care of my property. The final choice will always be yours."
It was exactly what I needed to hear, and my spent body seemed to melt into the sheets. His fingers entered me first, stretching me gently, stimulating, easing the way for his cock. I was lifting my ass off the bed to meet his hand long before he entered me, dignity a distant memory. He loved every minute of it. He refused to let me off the hook, making me say the words; making me ask him for what I wanted more than anything.
"Please?"
"Not good enough, little one. Use your words. Tell me the naughty thing that you need."
"Fuck me in the ass. Please Sir?"
Nice girls didn't beg for things like this, not even in the most explicit stories, but it didn't seem to matter anymore. He not only accepted what I wanted, he anticipated it, welcomed it, and made me own my needs more openly than I ever had. I felt desired, understood, and best of all; normal. The intellectual control freak was finally subdued, replaced by a hungry sexual creature ruled by passion. He plunged into me again and again, and I urged him on, no longer able to separate pain from pleasure. I wasn't even surprised when a third orgasm began to rise, but this time, asking for permission felt like the most natural thing in the world. When he was sure that I was spent, he finally allowed himself release, pushing deeper and deeper, claiming his territory.
The afternoon was sensual and unhurried, and before it was over Colin had made me cum so many times that we both lost count, and he laughed gently at my assertion that I couldn't have multiple orgasms. He held me in his arms, work forgotten. We napped, and woke in easy comfort to the long shadows of evening. The dim light in the room gave me the courage to voice the fears of my heart.
"Did you like it?"
"Like what, my sleepy pet?"
I squirmed in his arms, still reluctant to bare my soul. It wasn't lost on me that I had flown halfway across the country, bold enough to let a stranger beat me with a stick, but still afraid to tell him that I loved him. He was always intuitive, and I was still terribly afraid that all the passion of the afternoon had been just for me. I suspected that he was generous enough to give me my fantasy, without enjoying it himself. I knew he was waiting for me to clarify, so I took a deep breath, and asked the question that would decide my future.
"Did you like doing those naughty things to me, or did you just do them because you knew I liked them?"
His body began to shake, and there were a few seconds of terrible uncertainty before I realized he was laughing at me. His grip on my body tightened, and I couldn't see his face, but his breath was warm against my cheek, and his voice purred in my ear.
"Maybe it's time to show you."
Without another word, he sat up in the bed, pulling me across his lap unceremoniously. I struggled, shocked, but to no avail. He stroked my tender cheeks lightly, then began spanking them; slowly, deliberately. I squirmed and twisted, whimpering from the abuse my ass had already taken. I couldn't imagine what I'd done to deserve this, and was considering asking, when he yanked me off of his lap by my hair. He held my face between his legs for a moment, forcing me to stare at his swollen cock.
"Now, Pet. Do you think I'm only doing this for you?"
Mesmerized by the sight of him, desperate for a taste, I could only shake my head helplessly. It was all he needed. He pushed roughly into my mouth, holding my face tightly, fiercely. I tried to slow his pace, wanting to prove my skill, but he was relentless. Time after time, he forced his way to the back of my throat, filling my mouth, holding me still, controlling the very air I breathed. Finally, when I thought I would surely pass out from the lack of oxygen, he pulled out one last time, rammed his cock balls deep into my mouth, and came so far down my throat that I never even tasted it. I was not even close to having another orgasm, but it was the sexiest thing I'd ever experienced.
I lay still for a few minutes, as spent and happy as I'd been after all the orgasms he'd given me. Then the words I'd thought to hide burst from my mouth, as if expelled by an emotional pressure cooker.
"I love you."
Horrified, I tensed in his arms, afraid to hear his reply. He kissed me gently on the top of my head and said these words.
"I know."
This was not the answer I had hoped for, and I immediately began to try to disentangle myself from his grip, blinded by sudden tears, flight seemingly my only option. He held me tightly, wrapping me securely in his arms. He must have felt me waiting for more, teetering on the edge, afraid to breathe.
"Those words don't come easily to me, Pet. I care very much for you, but love is used too lightly and too often. For me those words have always meant forever. Not just something to bind you to me, but a truth between us. Too often they are just manipulation; words used so much that ultimately they don't have much meaning. You are mine, I own you, and I will always take care of my possessions. And yes, Pet, I love you too. I've felt that for a long time. Meeting you was just proving to myself that it could be real."
A blissful peace settled over me, and I realized that this feeling was exactly what I'd looked for, through all my misguided searching. I hadn't even realized I was holding my breath, and I released it now, suddenly sure of my place in the world. Cherished, understood, owned, and loved.
Later that night, we had the hotel's hot tub all to ourselves. I sat between his legs with my back against his chest. The steaming water bubbled against us, and his arms were wrapped around my shoulders. I had never been happier in my life. Colin spoke quietly, his voice a caress as he talked about what we had done, where we had been, what the future would hold.
This was where I belonged, and the visceral joy of that knowledge was something I will never forget. I had come here hoping that sex with the man whose mind I adored could live up to my fantasy that a best friend could also be a Master. He had proved beyond a doubt that he could give me so much more than I had ever had the wisdom to look for. He had raised the bar so high that no other man could ever come close. He was the first to possess me so completely, but I knew in my heart that he would also be the last.
Litrotica....
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Cynics Guide To Online Chat... (Kind Of Long )
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Posted:Jan 18, 2017 9:40 am
Last Updated:Nov 28, 2022 4:00 am 12290 Views
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Cynics Guide To Online Chat ....(Kind Of Long-- And Funny)
A Cynics Guide to Online Chat
( how to do it and survive )
A non-too-serious primer for the bewildered on the pleasures and pitfalls of online chat
[ed. this article goes way back to around 1997, so the technology is very archaic, but it’s informative and funny enough that we keep it live for posterity!)
Sex Chat 01Part 1:
What is Online Chat?
Personal computing and the internet have made possible the biggest and most liberating revolution in personal communication the world has ever seen. All around the globe, people in their millions are getting online and connecting with others. Email was the first big thing but it is rapidly being overtaken by instant messaging (IM) and online chat. Put in the simplest terms, Online Chat is a means of conversing in real-time via your computer keyboard and screen with anyone else on the internet. You can either talk to them directly, person-to person in a private conversation not visible to others, or you can talk in a channel or chat-room (the words are inter-changeable ). A chat-room is like a public room with a number of people in. You can see their chosen nicknames and also their public conversations on your screen and join in yourself if you want. You can also can talk privately to anyone there so that no-one else can see your conversation. There are tens of thousands of chat-rooms, catering for every kind of interest under the sun. Here though we’re concentrating on the use of online chat and chatrooms for BDSM activities .
What do people do in chatrooms ?
Everything their imaginations can come up with. Unfortunately not too many people have that good an imagination, so a great deal of socialising in online BDSM chatrooms exists at the level of terminal banality. You can spend hours watching conversations that would make watching paint dry seem like a big adrenalin rush. But some people like that, and thats fine. Or you can have every kind of wild and perverted cyber-sex you’ve ever dreamed of. Some people like that too. A lot of what goes on in BDSM online chatrooms is just friendly chit-chat, as indeed are a lot of the private conversations. Of course some people also “play” or “scene” both privately and in chatrooms too. This is where they have “cyber-sex” or act out BDSM fantasies. If you’ve ever wanted to dress up as Osama Bin Laden while being whipped with wet lettuce, then its time you gave online chat a try.
What is virtual D/s and cybersex ?
In some BDSM chat-rooms ‘sceneing’ or cybersex is either permitted or encouraged. Two or more people will construct a shared sexual or D/s fantasy, describing how they feel and what they are ‘doing’ to each other. They may be accompanied by physical actions (eg the notorious ‘one-handed typing’) or everything may happen just in their minds and on the screen. Many people regard cybersex as harmless fantasy because they say its not happening in the ‘real world’. Well, thats debatable. Within this new BDSM ‘cyber-world’ people make friends, fall in love, break each others hearts, and do all of the things that they might do in the ‘real world’, but without physically being together. People can have a promiscuous orgy of ‘virtual sex’ every night, or they can form stable and loving D/s relationships. For some the world of ‘virtual BDSM’ is just an online diversion which has no reality or meaning once their computer is switched off. For others, perhaps isolated by geography or social commitments, it represents the only chance they have to explore an important part of their make-up. For some people it provides an opportunity to search for and find their ‘soul-mate’ in a way that would never be possible in ‘real-life’. Views about ‘virtual’ D/s are mixed. Some regard it as nothing more than a diverting game, and argue that a ‘real’ D/s relationship is only possible where the people are physically together. Others say that D/s is, in essence, the relationship between two minds and that this finds its purest and most powerful form online rather than in ‘real-life’. Decide for yourself.
How do I get started ?
Most new computers come already set up with some kind of software that will let you chat with people online. AOL, for example, has built-in instant messaging software and many online ‘communities’ where you can chat with others. ICQ (a free download from http://alt.com ) is a powerful online communication tool with millions of users and lots of BDSM communities and chat-rooms.The original, and still wildly popular, chat-medium is Internet Relay Chat (IRC) which has a huge number of BDSM related chat rooms on its many servers. You can get helpful information about how to get started on IRC here ( http://alt.com) . The range of software to chat online is growing and changing each day, so this is just a sample but hopefully it will be enough to get you started.
Where can I find BDSM chatrooms ?
This is such a huge and rapidly changing area that lists of chatrooms go out of date very quickly. Both AOL and ICQ have flourishing BDSM and D/s chatrooms and communities if you search for them. IRC probably still has the widest variety of BDSM, spanking, fetish and D/s chatrooms of all kinds, so if thats your preference then here’s a pretty good list of irc chatrooms to try out. You can also check out our own BDSM Cafe link page which also lists enough suitable IRC channels to get you started. Many BDSM websites also have links to chatrooms.
What are BDSM chatrooms like ?
As varied as the people who visit them. Some are relaxed places to chat, some focus on worthy discussions about aspects of BDSM, some impose rigid codes of conduct, and others are mostly about online ‘sceneing’ and cybersex. If I had to generalise, I’d say that online BDSM chat-rooms are usually harmless places and more like childrens playgrounds than anything else. The liberating effect of online anonymity makes many people revert to their childhood personas, so there are always the same kind of show-offs and bullies and tantrums that you’d find in any playground, as well as the good playing nicely. Guys turn cart-wheels to impress the girls and middle-aged moms go all girly re-living high-school crushes. Be that as it may, there is no excuse ever for anyone being rude or impolite to you online in a way you would not accept in ‘real-life’. There’s usually a lot more men than women cruising around online, by the way, so females are often pestered. Use a non-gender specific nickname or get used to it. Some ladies, of course, love the attention.
What about safety and cyber-stalking ?
It’s a sad fact that people are often more comfortable having deep, personal conversations with strangers than with those close to them. Remember though that, however charming a person sounds, you really know nothing about them except what they tell you, which may not be the truth. Your revered online ‘Master’ may in fact be a timid batchelor still living with his mom. Your new ‘best-friend’ may turn out to be a fruit-loop or a limpet that you can’t shake. Protect your ‘real’ life and the people in it from online fall-out. Don’t give out personal information, telephone numbers, or addresses unless you’re 100% sure about who you’re giving them to. As long as you’re careful in this respect you can, in the worst case, change your nick-name, your email account, your isp, or even switch the computer off and leave it off to get rid of pests. Harder to do if they’re knocking on your front door. I don’t mean to sound too negative, but the internet can be dangerous in ways most people don’t realise so just be sensible and look after yourself. OK ?
What else do I need to know ?
Not much. Be careful who you trust, be skeptical about the things you’re told, and remember what you do in online chat always involves real people who have real feelings.
sex chat 2
Part 2: Weasel Words
The Things People Say Online
(and what they really mean)
“You sound interesting. I’d really like to get to know you better” = “I want sex”
” You can trust me, we’re friends now” = “I’ve wasted enough time listening to you rambling on about your boring and monotonous life. I want sex now ”
” r u M or F” = “I’m really 13 and mom doesn’t know I’m surfing the internet so late in my bedroom”
” Wanna fuck” ? = ” I’m really 13 and socially inept too ”
“How old RU” ? = as above .. and the same for any other stupid abbreviations the dimwitted use online as though real words were rationed”
“On your knees slave” = “I’m a shoe salesman who’s used to being ignored and I’d have no clue what to do next if anyone ever did take me seriously”
” I am your true Master” = ” I wear a woolly cardigan and live at home with my mom and my pet gerbil Horace”
“Thats a spankable offense in this chatroom” = ” I may as well see if the new girl’s stupid enough to fall for it”
” Slaves must kneel on entering this chatroom and ask permission to leave ” = ” I have the mental age of a of 10 and inhabit some weird sci-fi gorean fantasy”
“You’ll find that I’m a firm but fair Dom” = “I’m totally boring and unimaginative”
“I’m a bit of a brat really.....giggle” = ” I’m the female counterpart of the “Firm but Fair” Dom. I have no imagination either”
“I don’t have a picture I can send you” = ” I’m not Susie the Submissive Sex-kitten .. I’m really Bearded Bob the computer nerd.”
” I don’t have a recent picture I can send you” = “I’m 20 years older and/or 100 pounds fatter than I told you… and I have a wooden leg”
“I’d like to send you my picture” = ” I’m desperate for someone to talk to. I’ll just dig out that picture of me when I was 10 years younger and/or 30lbs thinner”.
” My wife is vanilla and fully understands my need to explore D/s in online chat” = ” My wife thinks I’m playing Nintendo”
“My wife and I don’t sleep together any more and I feel very lonely at times” = “My wife and I screw like rabbits, but having a sub online too makes me feel kinda cool”
“I’m divorced/separated” = “I’m cruising for sex online tonight because my wife’s out at the shops”
” No-one I’ve played with online has ever made me cum like you do” = ” I’ve shagged every guy in the chat-room”
“I’m using online chat to explore some of my sexual fantasies in safety” = ” I’ve shagged every guy in the chat-room and given my computer mouse and the games joystick a good seeing too as well.”
” I never truly gave my submission to anyone online until I met you Master” = ” I spent so much time in the past submitting to strangers online that I have callouses on my knee-caps and I call the computer Sir”
” We seem to be a little lagged sweetheart” = ” I’m a bit busy secretly talking to my other master and my lesbian girlfriend on ICQ”
” I just have to re-boot my computer” = “my wife/husband just walked in on me”
” I bet you’ve got a lovely voice. Can I phone you, just to talk for a moment” ?” = ” Quick .. my wife’s gone out and I want ‘phone sex before she gets back”
“I will always honour the collar you gave me ” = “I will take every opportunity I can to dishonour it and act like a total slut”
” Trust me. I will never betray you, Master” = “I will betray you in every way I can think of”
” I’ve been too busy with ‘real-life to spend much time online recently ” = ” You bore me and I’m having cybersex every night with someone else these days anyway”
“I’ll go straight to bed after we finish talking Master. Trust me, there is no-one but you, and there never will be. I love you. ” = “I will go straight to an orgy chatroom and have cyber sex with my lesbian girlfriend, 15 strangers, oh…and maybe my other master ”
sex chat 3
Part 3: How To Survive
Ten Top Tips on how to survive online chatrooms
Look and listen
When you first go into a BDSM online chatroom don’t just dive right in and demand to be spanked or covered in whipped cream. Take a little while to get the feel of the conversations and what's going on
Don’t be afraid to ask questions
Most chatrooms have people called ‘operators’ who run them. They should be friendly and they’re there to help you. Ask questions if you’re unsure of whats going on or whats expected of you. If they’re not helpful, its a crap channel and you don’t want to be there anyway. Try another…there are lots.
Beware bullshit
BDSM online chatrooms float on a sea of bullshit. In BDSM/spanking rooms 99% of the people don’t know any more about it than you do. Don’t ever be fooled into thinking that anyone has a clue simply because his self-selected nickname starts with “Sir” or “Master”. With few exceptions, chatroom “Sirs” and “Masters” are called Norman and live at home with their Mom and a pet gerbil called Horace. They’re none the worse for that, but just don’t take them too seriously.
Do as you would be done by
Because of the freedom and anonymity of BDSM online chatrooms its tempting to think that normal standards of kindness and decency don’t apply. But always remember its real. There’s a real person behind each PC with real feelings just like yours. Try to apply the… “would I like that done to me”… test. If you wouldn’t, then don’t do it. Even if no-one else knows what you’ve done online, you do.
Be sensible with personal information
Most people in BDSM online chatroom are nice, ordinary, everyday folks just having a little fun. But like anywhere else there are weirdo’s. Get to know people well before you give them access to your “real life” through your telephone number or address. Beware instant ‘best-friends’.
Watch out for your heart
BDSM online chatrooms are littered with broken hearts and ex-Doms and subs who swore it was forever. The trouble with online chat is that you can get in very deep, very quickly. Much more so than in “real-life”. The vast majority of passionate online Dom/sub love-affairs last a few months at the very most. Long distance relationships are very hard . Only a tiny proportion of online romances… very, very few… make the cross-over into “real life” and have a fairy-tale ending. Take chances by all means, but be aware of the odds.
Keep a firm grip on reality
Much easier said than done. The problem is that its not as easy to differentiate clearly between the ‘online world’ and “real life” as some people think. Everyone I’ve known who’s seriously thought about this has the same problem. Even in overtly fantasy situations, real people with real feelings are involved. Bottom line is that its always potentially more than “Just online chat”
Don’t put up with any crap
Wherever you go in BDSM online chatrooms, you are entitled to receive the same kind of politeness and consideration you’d expect in your daily life. No-one, whatever silly nickname they use, has an automatic right to your respect or submission. Both have to be earned or offered. So unless you particularly get off on it, don’t ever let anyone abuse you or humiliate you. You have the ultimate power in your own hands. Its called the “off” switch and it makes the jerks vanish into thin air.
Be careful what you give away
Its tempting to think that the world of online chat is ‘just fantasy’ and that nothing you do there matters or has any consequences. For some that may be completely true, but others could find themselves wishing they hadn’t already given valuable things away lightly. Your submission, for example, is a precious gift. Be careful what you give away online because you just might need it some day…
Have fun
And finally .. if you’re going to give BDSM online chatrooms a whirl then you may just enjoy the hell out of them. I certainly wouldn’t recommend them to everyone. I certainly wouldn’t recommend that you immerse yourself in them to the detriment of your real life. But if you’re the right kind of person and you hang onto your principles then you may just have found yourself a whole new world ..
Taken from an article on BDSM Cafe...
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