This is what I asked when I told him I’d been fantasizing about pain all my life — that I got off on imagining someone tying me up and hurting me.
Oh, if only I had words enough to describe the electricity that ran through my body when he said he’d been craving for a submissive too. Slave was the exact word he used.
This is the story of that fateful night when it all began.
It started with a slap to my right cheek.
His palm landed so hard on my face that it made my head reel.
The slap had come when I’d least expected it, and made me gasp. For reasons I couldn’t fathom, I felt my pussy tingle with pleasure, just as my cheek stung with pain. I was overwhelmed by a strong desire to rub my clit, feeling the muscles tighten in anticipation.
I stared into the eyes of my boyfriend. He bit his lip, and lust was written all over his face.
“You like it, bitch?” he asked.
It wasn’t really a question.
Before I could nod my head in response, he slapped me again, only harder. My chest was heaving and my voice came out in a gasp, “Yes, a lot. I like it a lot.”
“Slave likes to get slapped?” he asked. There was a savage pleasure in his voice at having discovered something that turned me on so much. He ran his left hand through my hair and grabbed it hard from behind. I gulped. With his other hand, he adjusted my face so my head was tilted slightly to the right, exposing my cheek. He patted it slightly and asked me, “Shall I hurt you more?”
I looked into his eyes, feeling like his slut. I nodded.
The slap landed so hard on my cheek that I couldn’t stop myself from letting out a gasp, really more of a moan. I looked into his eyes; there was craving in them, an unbridled lust that made my heart flip and my pussy tingle. He opened his mouth to say something, but before I could see his lips form the words, my head was reeling again from another slap.
“Mmm, slave is liking it.”
Slap.
“You are a such a slut.”
Slap.
“Whose slut are you?”
Slap.
“Hmmm?”
Slap.
“Mine. All mine. You belong to me, understand?”
Slap.
“Say it out loud, slave. Say you’re mine.”
I could barely breathe. “All yours, I am all yours. You can use me however you please.”
“Good girl,” he said and let go of my hair, without breaking eye contact. My heart was racing and both my cheeks were stinging with pain. This was something entirely new to me, and even though I wasn’t used to it, my body was reacting to the pain in a surprising way. My pussy was crying out to be touched, to be fucked, and strangely, my cheeks craved his slaps. My entire being wanted to be fucked, to be hurt, to be abused, to be humiliated — all at the same time.
His hands were on my neck now, gently removing a few loose strands of hair from my shoulders. I felt like I was completely under his control, like my emotions didn’t matter at all, only his did. I wanted to be his — to please him, to do anything for him, anything at all.
Without warning, his hands wrapped around my neck and pressed hard, choking the air out of my lungs. My eyes watered as I looked into his, and felt him running his gaze over me as if doing unspeakable things to my body in his head. With his hands blocking all the oxygen to my brain, I could feel a lightheadedness sweeping through my senses, making the pleasure of it even more intense, more palpable.
My heightened senses could only take so much. I could feel a rising desperation within me — a desperation to reach an orgasm. I closed my eyes, barely able to breathe with anticipation. He held my throat down with one hand, and slapped me hard with the other. “Cum, slave,” he commanded.
And without me being aware of what was going on, I felt my body respond to his words. My pussy exploded with pleasure; I let out a soft inadvertent moan. My legs were shaking and I could feel my cum running down my inner thighs. The very thought made me flush with embarrassment for having come without even touching so much as a finger to my pussy.
His hands left my throat now and held me from behind to support my arched back. My chest was heaving with pleasure. I had closed my eyes in that moment of orgasm, and I opened them now to look up at him. There was a faint smile on his face, but the grip with which he held me didn’t loosen.
“Slave is under my control. She will only do what I say, is that clear?”
I nodded.
I tried to free myself.
His fingers dug deeper into my skin. His voice was hoarse when he said, “No no no, don’t think I’ll be done with you so soon, slave.”
“What are you going to do with me now?” I asked, nervously anticipating that he would slap me hard if I said something that I wasn’t supposed to.
Which he did — his hand landed on my right breast with a resounding whack. I held eye contact, only opened my mouth to let out a gasp.
“I will do whatever pleases me, slut. Who gave you permission to ask questions?”
With that, he slapped my boob again, harder this time. I closed my eyes in pain, shook my head and said, “I am sorry. I won’t do that again.” All this pain, this submission, the feeling of being in his control was making my pussy throb with pleasure.
When I opened my eyes, the look on his face told me he knew how much I was enjoying it.
And he was going to give me more than I could ever ask for.
To be continued…
