A Little Pain Slut In The Making

She could feel her heart beating fast with nerves and excitement as she knocked on his front door. As requested by the Dom, she was wearing a tight, short, grey dress, that barely covered her ass, and showed off her toned muscular legs, with nothing underneath. She preferred a bronzed, natural makeup look that complimented her blue eyes, but on this drizzly day, she adorned a dark, smokey eye, because a good girl always does as she is told.

He was older than she was, tall, blonde, and in good shape. He was intelligent, articulate, spoke with a British accent, and had a sadistic sparkle in his eye. The living room was cosy, and dimly lit with candles scattered around.

He pulled her in towards his body, and kissed her deeply, while caressing her hair and neck with a firm hand. She felt her shoulders drop, and her nerves calm as she started to surrender to his touch.

He told her to get on her knees, and she dropped down, heels under her bum, palms on her legs and looked up at him, waiting for his next move.

He unzipped his trousers, and she licked and sucked him before he forced his erect cock to the back of her throat, holding it there until she gagged, and he could sense in her eyes that she needed a break. He did this over, and over, each time increasing the length of time he was throatfucking her—a task of focus, and gag reflex control. Her eyes were watering, and her mascara bleeding black ink down her face. He ensured she maintained eye contact, not allowing her to drop her eyes, even for a second, until he was done.

She had mentioned she wanted to experience some more intense impact play. She had experienced a little, and wanted to push her limits. He would happily oblige her desires. He bent her over an ottoman, with her little grey dress hitched up around her hips. She watched in eager anticipation, as he rope tied her hands together, and attached them to the window frame in front of her, with her arms out straight, so that she had very little movement. After warming her ass up with a few hard slaps of his hand, he moved onto a few of his favourite implements—a cane, a studded riding crop, and a cat o nine tails flogger.

The strikes increased in intensity over time, each one building on the last, and although the sting was painful, she breathed through them, keeping herself calm and centred as the pain numbing hormones started to flood her body. He interspersed different types of touch and pain between strikes—nails scratching down her back, biting her body, and a cane running up the inside of her thighs and across her exposed pussy. As she was nearing her threshold, he said “Let’s play a game. I’m going to count down from 20”. She closed her eyes, and counted strikes in her head as he audibly counted aloud. Each strike increasing in intensity and force. “20…19…18…17…16…15…14…”. The pain all but disappeared as she found herself in a transcendent state—the euphoric, meditative subspace. After the final strike, he knelt down beside her and asked if she was ok. She smiled, and let out a muffled giggle—a little pain slut in the making.

He moved her to the lounge, and wrapped her in a blanket. She curled herself around him, limbs entangled, with her head nuzzled into the nook of his neck, eyes still closed, while he stroked her hair and kissed the top of her head head. He let her take her time to slowly come back to her body. A deeply intimate moment of trust, and connection.

After some time had passed, he nestled his way down behind her, so that they were lying side by side, his body pressed up against hers. He ran his fingers up the middle of her legs, and began to gently caress her— spreading her lips, and pushing his fingers into her opening. She felt her arousal increasing, and it wasn’t long before she felt him hard up against her ass. She reached her hand behind her and guided him inside. “You dirty little slut. Do you always fuck men you barely know?”, he said in his British accent. She innocently shook her head, as he thrusted harder making her moan. She could feel all of him with each hard thrust. He fucked her with one hand tightly wrapped around her body, and the other hand firmly around her throat. His breathing got faster, and his moans got louder. She lost herself in the moment, enjoying the feeling of him using her holes at his will.

They both lay there, basking in the moment and the intense fun, and pleasure that had been had. He traced his finger around the bright red welts, and stud imprints on her upper thigh— admiring the marks he left. A temporary trophy of the the gift of submission.

She showered, and got dressed before kissing him one last time, and headed home.