Amy’s B&D Adventures · Part 1 (1/2)
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Let me tell you a little bit about me. When my great adventure began, I was young (age 25) and not very experienced. Oh, I had sex any number of times, in a number of different ways, but I never felt the wild excitement in actually doing those things that I imagined in advance. I had a million different, very kinky fantasies, things that I really wanted to do but was afraid to try, even if I had the opportunity to try) which I really didn't have. Mostly, my fantasies involved me as a sort of slave girl, captured by some strong individual. Some days, I imagined my master to be a male and sometimes a female, with special events for each one.
What I thought I really wanted was a strong master or mistress, one who also had wild sexual fantasies, and who would take charge of me and would then act out those fantasies, obviously with me playing out the part of slave girl, used by master (or maybe better yet, mistress) in strange and delicious ways, hopefully with an audience watching and most delicious of all, whether I liked it or not. I wanted strange and sexy things to happen and not have any say as to the agenda, to be used, perhaps even to be a little bit abused.
My figure is good, that is, I think it is good, and maybe you will agree (that is, you will if you like full bodied girls with large, shapely titties). I am tall, about 5'7", with a nice, full shapely bust, good legs, and a delicious round bottom. I love being nude, and enjoy other people seeing me nude. I have even posed nude for a guy, just for fun, very naughty, very sexy pictures, like me masturbating for him, with a large rubber dildo or for example, his favorite shot, me urinating for him, the stream shooting out like a waterfall. I did find that very exciting (though, I would just die if those pictures ever got out) and no, I won't show YOU the pictures, either.
I also posed nude once for a very, very sexy amateur lady photographer, but that is a completely different story that I do not intend to tell you today. All I will say about that is that she was dressed when she took the first pictures of me, she was nude when she took the last pictures of me, and the very best pictures would have been taken a while later, but by then, frankly, she was too busy to think about taking pictures. She had her mind on something else (and her tongue into something else, too).
I love reading about kinky sex. Sometimes, I go to the porno shops, to look at the fascinating things they write about, and to look at the exciting array of rubber dildos and accessories that they sell. I even bought a couple of those things) strictly as a scientific experiment, you understand. I know a nice shop in Miami that sells remarkable stuff and I have purchased four different dildos and a couple of rubber butt pluggers. I adore playing with these toys, and had a secret fantasy about somebody else putting them into me (instead of me doing it myself). If it was a super-sexy guy who did it, and if he started me out with a nice, bare bottomed spanking, that would be just great. And if it was a marvelous, beautiful, dominant super sexy lady who did it to me, that would be the greatest!!!
In one of the shops, I found a magazine, a Swingers Journal that seemed interesting. It had just fascinating pictures, especially in the B&D area that was my particular excitement at the time. The ads seemed like fun. One of these showed a guy whose area of interest was in spankings, enemas, and Greek things about which I had many secret thoughts but not much real experience. I decided that I would answer this particular ad, not intending ever to meet this guy, but rather, just to hear what he had to say.
A week or so later, I got a letter from him, with a nude picture. His name was Tom. He was a divorcee. He was about 35, well built, well hung, too. And he was holding a leather paddle in his hand and hanging from the ceiling next to him was a large enema bag, a long rubber hose attached to it, and connected to the end of that, a black rubber looking device that got inserted into the recipient of this enema, and really did the work. It looked like a huge, erect, black penis. Believe me, it was an impressive picture.
His letter told about how he liked to be masterful, how he thought that there was no sight so beautiful as a naked, shapely, female bottom, and nothing he liked to do so much as to pet it, to kiss it… and to spank it until it was rosy pink. Then, when she was fully ready and receptive, to give her a long, slow, deep enema, filling her fuller than she had ever been filled before, using, of course, a Bardex so that she could not expel it until permitted. And then to lubricate her pretty asshole, greasing it generously until it was slippery, and then to fuck it deeply and firmly. His letter excited me tremendously. He became an instantaneous member in my library of fantasies.
I wrote back to him, he replied again, and this time, included a telephone number. I stared at that for a long time. I knew that calling the number was taking a very serious step, that there was at least a chance that I would follow up and visit him at, as he described it, his Domination Laboratory. I did call the number. When he replied, his voice was much as I expected it to be, and the conversation also was about what I had expected. We agreed to meet, not at his place, but on neutral ground, at a certain coffee shop, nothing else promised but the meeting. I was willing to go that far in advance, but no further at all. Oh, I knew I would go ahead and meet him at the coffee shop, but I did have serious doubts about whether I would go from there to his place.
The day of the meeting came, and as promised, I went. In fact, I got there early so that I could scout out the scene, and if he showed, and if I did not like his looks up close, I could sneak out. Well, he did show up on time, and I did like his looks. We had a fascinating conversation about everything else in the world except sex. We found a million things to talk about, found lots of areas of common interest, a few fun things to fight about, too. After a long time (maybe as much as a couple of hours), it was time to leave. I declined to go to his place yet, but since I did not have a car with me (I had hopped on the bus to get there), he drove me home.
As luck would have it, a vacant parking place was right there, almost at my front door. He walked me to the door, and right into my apartment. What happened next was an awful long way from what our letters talked about. We were soon petting, and in short order, he had me out of my sweater and bra, and soon out of everything else. He got me very excited, undressed himself and showed off a nice looking, very erect penis. We did have very nice, normal sex. It was fun, pleasant, and certainly not earth shaking. I am not even sure now that he made me cum that night. I don't think so, but then, I rarely do in regular intercourse.
He called me again the following week. Soon, we were dating, more or less regularly, having good sex once or twice a week, but no domination, no spankings. One evening, we did go to his place. This time, he showed me his laboratory, a room in the basement, with wood paneled walls, a large, sturdy oak library table with a gym mat as a top, and a rubber sheet over it. That was the laboratory. We wondered what it would be like if I was up on it, bottom up. I complied. Attached to each leg of the table was a leather strap. He put a leather dog collar around each of my wrists, and then fastened the wrist to one of the leather straps, stretching my arms out wide, and helpless. Very quickly, my ankles were similarly fastened. I was now spreadeagled, completely under his control.
Did he now take charge completely? Absolutely not. He talked to me, and came back to our early correspondence, and what I had told him I wanted him to do. And all this time, his hands were wandering over my bare ass. Suddenly, SPLATT! He whacked me with his big, bare hand across my ass. It stung a little bit, but certainly did not really HURT. Again…….and again….a few more times. Then he went to the closet. He took out a leather strop. Long and wicked looking. He talked to me some more. And then he raised the strop and swished it, fairly hard, across my ass. It did hurt, but it felt good at the same time.
He gave me a fairly thorough spanking that day, followed by the love enema he had talked about.. a long, slow enema that took 20 or 30 minutes to go in. Along the way, a couple of times, I told him that I could not take any more. Each time, he would stop the water flow for a while until I got used to the feeling…and then start it again. Eventually, he gave me as much as he wanted me to have, but then, he made me keep it in for a while longer.
After he finally did let me expel it into the toilet, I got to rest a while, but then, he did Greek me. He first expanded my anus with a greased finger, and then two and three at the same time, stretching me. He had a conical, rubber dildo, a butt plugger. Slowly, almost tenderly, he inserted it in me until the thickest part was past the sphincter. In it went, the rest of the way, the thick rim preventing it from going in too far. He asked me how it felt. Actually, it felt almost marvelous. I was almost disappointed when he pulled it out and I was shocked when, from his drawer, he pulled out a still larger version of the same thing. This looked too big to ever get into such a tight place.
However, with patience, and perseverance and plenty of pressure, he did get it in, slowly stretching me larger, until the largest diameter passed the sphincter and it was lodged fully up inside me. He gave me a little more of the leather strop, so I could have the two sensations together. After a while, the rubber plug came out. He got up astride, put the blunt, rigid end of his cock against my now stretched rosette. After what had happened so far, that did not really hurt at all, it was sort of tight, but not painful. And to me, the sensation of being fucked in the ass by a masterful man was just marvelous, though I must say that never did I have the feeling that I was out of control.
I always felt that any time I really wanted him to stop and go no further, that he would have stopped without question. Never did I feel totally dominated, subjugated, like the subdued slavegirl I really wanted to be.
The next time or two that we were together, things were much the same. After we had done the same things a few times, we began to talk about fantasies, and he made me tell him mine. It relates to Mrs. Olsen, who was my landlady, and who really disliked me. If I ever was going to try the slavegirl experience, totally controlled by another, she would be absolutely my first choice.
Now the wierd thing about her was that she once had been a strong disciplinarian, a teacher in one of those strange schools where the students are punished. I overheard her telling a lady friend once that she did have an experience. She had a student who badly needed the discipline, and nothing that Mrs. Olsen ever did seemed to make that one shape up. Repeated applications of the leather did not make any difference. The cure for her, according to Mrs. Olsen, was that she was given a thorough stropping, forced to take a number of tablespoons of castor oil, thank Mrs. Olsen for each one, stropped some more, and then given a large mouthful of Mrs.
Olsen's shit to eat, a tablespoonful at a time. I overheard this and never forgot it. And, I am sure, I masturbated about it a thousand times. That was my fantasy. I wanted to be taken over by somebody who disliked me, stripped, spanked thoroughly, made to eat her pussy, and then more humiliating things.
Now understand this about Mrs. Olsen. She is tall and strong, a very handsome woman, with a very potent personality. She is about 45. There is no Mr. Olsen around. I do not know if she is a widow or a divorcee, she is not the kind of person that you ask questions of. We genuinely do not like each other. I think she is overbearing. She thinks that I am wild, spoiled, disrespectful. While she is my landlady, I cannot wait to get out of there, and she cannot wait to have me gone. But, she still is very much in my fantasies. This story, embellished somewhat, is what I told to Tom. He is very interested in this, and says that he is going to look into making it all happen. He had me write him a letter, detailing all this, though how exactly he plans to make use of it, I do not know.
Today, Tom called at lunch time and asked me to come over this evening, and to be sure to be there before 8:00 PM. He says that we might, just might, have company, though he won't say who and he won't say what. I am fantasizing about this, have been all day now, not knowing what to expect. Today is Thursday, I thought, and today is the day that perhaps I am going to meet my fate. Thomas had heard my story and questioned me on it in detail. He knew what I think I want. He was delighted to help me, to play in our little drama. He had my letter, written in my own hand, addressed to him, which detailed everything.
He had also purchased a pint bottle of castor oil at the drug store, the only item on the list that he did not have in advance. And he had made the calls, I believe, talked to Mrs. Olsen, explained our relationship, and had her surprised (and he says, delighted and enthusiastic) agreement to participate. He told her that he had been regularly spanking me, had nude photos of me that he knew she would want to see, and had ideas of advanced discipline for me that he wanted to discuss with her. She was cautious, but interested, after all, this was really right up her alley, and it was being handed to her on a silver platter, so to speak.
This time, for the first time, I did not drive to his place. I knew that if the adventure was going to go according to his plan, that I would be taken home, in bondage, by Mrs. Olsen. My car would only be in the way. I went there by cab, dressed as usual, in jeans and a sweater. The clothes made no difference. I would be nude as soon as I got there. Thomas' house was no different than at any other time. The furnishings are sparse, but adequate. The room down in the basement, which was the "playroom", had wood paneled walls, with various hooks and eyes, and the large, very sturdy oak library table with a padded top. On the floor stood a brown paper bag.
I was instructed to strip down to my panties, (but to leave them on) a pair of black nylon bikini panties that he had bought for me that he liked. I was to put each article of clothing that I removed into that paper bag. Soon enough, I was almost nude, trembling slightly, though not from fright. Thomas had seen me nude now a number of times and had used me in the various ways that a punished girl is used. Instead, I was trembling in anticipation. This might be the night that Mrs. Olsen would join us, and if she did, there was no tellin
Amy’s B&D Adventures · Part 1 (1/2)
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