My Introduction to the World of BDSM

Observations: give a geisha or handmaiden feel. Very honoring. extraordinary secretion Directions: Take more initiative; don't simply wait on a wish to be expressed.  Any attention is good attention. If something is unwanted, it gives opportunity to play into something else. There is no wrong way to go. Physically dote. Having just finished with my seminar, I rush up to my hotel room and pick up my phone. [Is there anything you would like me to do in preparation for you?] After sending the text, I look around at the room in anticipation.  The bed was turned down by housekeeping, so I don’t want to touch it; He will be the first to disturb its perfection.  I remove my shoes and socks and decide under the desk is enough out-of-sight for them to stay.  The full-length mirror, sadly misaligned from the bed, shows me in my work clothes and reminds me I should remove more than my footwear. I change out of my tee and settle on wearing fresh black boyshorts my black camisole, (my only) pants, and a black cotton tank top, heavily embroidered and with many functional buttons up the front.  Looking at my phone, I see no response to my text, and it’s just before He is due to arrive. I perch myself in the office chair provided at the desk, with eyes glued to the door.  Five minutes pass with my mind reeling, disbelieving that this could actually be happening, before I think on the fact that I just got done working and am surely not  in the best state for intimate interaction.  And so, with time already come to bear, I decide it worthwhile to bathe freshly for my first encounter with the man I want to call Master, despite His impending arrival.  I draw the water quickly, with just enough depth to rise over my outstretched thighs, and lather myself to make sure all trace of my work day is gone.  My legs had been shaven that morning, but I want only to feel like silk for Him and so shave again.  Memories of our time walking woodland trails to discuss limits come to me in my brief bath: how He had complimented my coy nature and bashfulness as appealing to Him while insisting I be blatant about my limitations and preferences; how He had pressed His fist into my diaphragm against a large tree, pinning me while slowly slipping a hand under my clothes with promise to stop if I halted in my answering of His questions; how He teased me, with His mouth a mere inch from mine, a glint in His calculating eyes and a smirk on His lips; how He refused to do little more than tickle my pubic hair with the tips of his fingers.  I pet my now-bare groin and wonder if it will be a good surprise for Him, if He will appreciate my efforts to be smooth for Him.  My hair still in a bun and dry, I slip out of the tub and roughly towel myself, heart pounding, afraid I might be caught by a rap at the door.  The thought of being unprepared and answering Him naked is electrifying.  He had said he would be here some time ago; not a full hour, but enough to worry me some, and definitely enough to make me jump at any movement or sound from the hall. I’ve not fully straightened my top so it set nicely over my torso before three distinct knocks on my door pierce me.  Flustered, I brush my clothing down, willing all wrinkles and lint away, and move to the door on tip toe, peering through the peep hole.  There He stands, looking up to the room number presumably, arms holding bulges under His coat to His sides.  I smile nervously to myself and open the door quickly to let Him in.  He looks me in the face and nods with a slight smile before moving forward and past me, my head bowing as He pulls even.  I don’t move my face to follow Him, and instead close the door while staring down my hands, gravity more forceful now than a minute ago.  As I turn to face Him, I hear soft thuds and clinks as He unloads His arms.  Just what is in hand and on table is lost to me as He speaks. “Sorry for the wait. It’s Seattle… Traffic…” He flourishes his Coke bottle in hand and shifts his weight from foot to foot as He speaks.  These mannerisms are endearing and common of Him, familiar and lulling, reminiscent of the years of long hours playing Dungeons and Dragons where He would be storyteller and master of the game.  Yet, I am unable to lose sight of the grave difference in those games and the game of which He will be master tonight.  I hold myself still, near the wall, and with hands clutched at my inguinal line.  “I'm just glad you’re here.” My senses come back to me, and I remember my memo I wrote to myself, so I could get some of my curiosities answered before events unfolded. “Would you mind if I ask some questions?” “Go ahead.” He gives me the floor by way of extending His hand in another flourish, and I pick up my cell phone from the desk.  I pull up the note and start with the first topic on the list. “Is there any type of lingerie you would like to see me in?” Lingerie doesn’t really matter to me, but if it makes you feel sexy, you should wear it.” His answer is brief and not at all what I hoped for. I admit to myself, I want to make Him riled exceptionally quickly while seeing me in a certain style of clothing. want to see what He wants to see emphasized on my body so I can wear clothes that do just that when I get to be around Him. I don’t press the matter, though.  “Is there a title you prefer in session, like Master or Sir?” “No. You can call me whatever you like.” “I'd quite like to call you by name, then.”  His name, so familiar and respected as a good friend and leader, now to be used in such a charged and fantastically erotic setting is enough to give my core a shock of list, and I feel myself secrete into my fleshy folds.  “I.. Think I would like knife play the way you describe it, and I would like to try it sometime.” “Sure thing, no problem.” He nods to himself as He answers. I seem to have given Him something to think about.  “And, uh… This is the thing I said that I probably wouldn’t be able to say well to you…” I turn off my phone's screen and hold it in both hands in front of me. I take a big breath and raise my face to the ceiling, nervous smile threatening to overtake my face. My breath stays inside me as I struggle to find eloquent words to share my very lewd thought.  “I, recently, after I got to feel you aroused, have been thinking it would be nice to pleasure you orally, and I think I would even like partial vaginal penetration.”  I sound so stiff in my own ears, I cringe on top of screwing my face to find words to express myself. He chortles.  “Partial penetration?  What, like “just the tip”?”  His tone is just shy of mocking and I feel like my wish is incredibly foolish and naïve when phrased that way. “Well, heh, I mean, yeah, I guess. I mean to say I get the most pleasure from girth, and the glans is the widest, so…” I only just speak the words and I already can’t believe I am talking this way with Him. Never had I imagined we would be having this conversation. Talking vaguely about my preferences in person and speaking in more detail over text has been completely different. I am being so explicit and this is being treated like a regular conversation. My flush intensifies, and I wonder if I am scarlet.  Some time passes making small talk (with Him doing most of the talking).  I don’t know what to do to initiate, and want to respect Him, give Him forum to speak on whatever is on His mind.  Surely He would set the pace, would move into play as He became ready.  After a slightly awkward stop in conversation, the subject is broached. “You know, are you sure about this?  Because what I’m getting from you is that you’re not ready, and I’m not into non-con, so that doesn’t encourage me to do anything to you.” Shocked, I rush to defend my position. “No! Not that at all.  This is just a big thing for me.  I’m beyond thought of what to do.  It means so much to me that you’re doing this for me. This is the first time my fantasies are going to become reality, and you are the one walking me through it…” I try to express how touched I am and how grateful and amazed I am at the mutual attraction between us.  He nods thoughtfully for some seconds before I speak again.  The time has come for me to initiate, I decide. “Please, come.  Sit.”  I indicate the bed side with an outstretched hand, bending at the waist slightly, extending myself to encourage Him to make movement toward the presented seat. “Well, you see, I spilled this in my lap on the way here…” He shows and jostles the bottle in hand. “…so I’m going to ask that I be allowed to wash up first.  It’s why I’ve been standing this whole time.” Feeling a great sense of failure, I excuse Him to use the restroom and encourage Him to take all the time necessary to right himself without feeling rushed.   He bows slightly, takes up some rolled-up sweat pants from the pile of things He set on the table, and makes for the bathroom door. While I am alone, I face the wall and cringe to myself.  Why had I not noticed? Why had He not said anything?  Oh, and I missed an opportunity to clean Him, though it would be my first time seeing Him bare and…  My thoughts are scattered when the door opens again and He comes out with soft grey sweats on, soiled jeans rolled up and tucked under His arm.  However, what my vision centers on as I turn to face Him is His black, simple leather belt, stretched out and folding in half in His hands as He moves: a mundane, unassuming, and casually-performed act, but somehow immensely powerful and stimulating, sending a chill through me, resting deep in my shoulders and gut.  I return to facing the wall to gather my wits for the split second He crosses behind me to the desk, where He deposits the pants and belt.   I rotate slowly, stepping forward and suggesting the bedside as a resting place for Him as before.  He obliges my suggestion, and I move to my overnight bag, where I have a surprise stored. My necklace is already assembled: a rope leather collar and flat pendant with decorative cross inside a circle.  I deftly unfasten and refasten the tricky latch around my neck, leaving the pendant to rest at my sternal notch.  His wrist band is in pieces: a flat leather strap, a small, slip-on, cut metal plaque, and a metal button fastener for the band.  Wanting to keep the parts together and pristine, I had kept everything in the original packaging. I now see that I should have prepared better and assembled the pieces before His arrival. I mumble as much under my breath and regret having done so immediately.  While still without the ball fastener attached, I retreat to the foot of the bed, leather strap lying flat over my open palms.  As I reach Him, I lower myself to sit with my legs under me and extend the bracelet to Him. “Please, allow me to serve you.” Unsure of what I mean for Him to do by my gesture, He fidgets a little, wanting to pick up on what I intend by my actions. “Is this for me or you?” “For you.”  I pause, slightly puzzled, and raise my face to Him.  Plainly, He doesn’t understand what I thought would be a commonplace sign.  “I honestly thought you’d recognize it, since you’ve been into this so long.” I point out the design on the cut metal emblem of his gift. “The shield is for Doms, and the arrow is for males.”  I take the same hand to rest my fingertips at the base of my neck, cradling my new pendant.  “The circle is for submissives, and the cross is for females.”  I feel the heat of embarrassment in my face, and I bow my head to avert my eyes.  Perhaps I bought into some false symbolism, if He was unaware of their meanings.  “Y-you don’t have to wear it, I just want you to have it.  A token of my subservience to you.”  I don’t get my whole sentiment out before He speaks, softly but assuredly. “No, please…”  His tone is set to refute my idea that the gift would be rejected, and He extends His arm to me in acceptance. I palm His forearm and size the band to His wrist, fitting the fastener into the last available hole for it to be secured, making the wristband its largest available size.  I’m grateful I chose a longer cut of leather than I originally thought would be adequate.  While I work at securing the fastener, He gives His thoughts. "When dealing with something symbolic, I usually use something less overt.  Some people see things like this and use it as a conversation starter.  Like, ‘Hey, we’re the same, bro.’ Nah, just because you’re into kink doesn’t mean we share fetishes." I finish my work by securing the bracelet around His wrist, and He sharply pronates His wrist a few times, testing the looseness and feel of the band.  I sit back on my heels and observe His testing with some satisfaction, not having been sure if it would suit Him.  His attention settles back on me shortly, and He leans forward. “You were saying something about me not having to wear this.”  He rises from His seat on the bed and sidles to my left.  “Why would I not wear it?” “Well, I wasn’t sure if you would like it, if it would suit you.” He becomes even with my side and I face forward, unable to follow His progress further.  “I’m sad the crafter didn’t offer brown leather, since I think that’s more your style.” “Ah, black goes with everything.”  His words are casual, purely conversational, even as He continues His slow encirclement of me. “I figured even if you don’t wear it you could…”  My speech falters, and electricity runs rampant through me as He gingerly removes my hair tie, freeing my bun and allowing my hair to cascade down my back.  His fingers trail through some of my locks as they pull away, causing my breath to catch. “Keep talking.  Talking’s important.  It’s how I can gauge how you’re doing without having to see your expression.”  He speaks while standing still, lightly massaging his fingers into my scalp directly behind me.  My mouth is agape and mind blank, all thought apart from what He is doing to me gone from me.  “Even if I don’t wear it I could…?” “Uh… You could use it to, um…” His hand moves from my scalp, combing through my hair to fondle my neck, grasping my shoulder, firmly massaging.  “Uh-huh?”  I hear His look of satisfaction translate into His voice, a wonderfully teasing lilt. “Um… Could use it to bind things.”  I have an image in mind of a sizable roll of paper bound by the bracelet, my gift to Him used as a simple storage device.  However, my words fail and I am lulled too easily by His touch and presence. “Bind things?  What do you mean?  Like you?”  His tone is clear, seemingly unaffected and thoroughly puzzled.  I am thin, but even I wouldn’t fit both wrists in such a small strap. “N-no, no. I mean like… I-I dunno, I was thinking a…” Words almost fail me again as He strokes up my neck, my chin moving with His gentle touch voluntarily.  At the same time, He steps into the edge of my vision to my right, looking down on me intently.  I steel myself to finish my thought and continue talking, no matter what nonsense I spit out, frustrated that I can’t express myself properly. “A-a… map.  A D&D grid mat.  Anything, really.”  He steps into clear view again, and my eyes lock onto him as He strokes my cheek and follows my jaw through my hairline. “Any storage.”   I can’t take my eyes from Him, held captive by His own.  He suddenly takes a handful of hair and jerks my head back.  Air escapes me in a sharp exhale.  His hand softens immediately after His exposition of strength to smooth down my neck, down to the valley of my chest.  I fully inhale, my breasts perking and pelvis pressing back into my heels without a mind to do so.  His one hand doesn’t pick at the first small button of my shirt long before His other hand joins to aid.  With a throaty, intoxicated chuckle, I apologize.  “You don’t have to bother with those; they’re a pain to work with.  The top can slip off.” “Eh, I don’t mind.  Plus, it adds to the anticipation.”  He carries his nonchalant tone up until the last word, which he draws out for great implication and to great effect. undresses me "Now, I don’t think you’ve told me what you decided on yet.  What is your safeword?"  He has released me, but I continue to look up at him with neck fully arched, my voice strained from the odd angle.  “Emerald,” I croak.  Now I feel like I should have taken the time to straighten myself to speak such an important thing in a clear tone.  "Good.”  His praise was the first spoken reward of this aspect of our relationship. The word and smile that came with it display to me what His Dominance feels like, and I am enraptured. I feel the urge to swallow under His pressure and from the mild discomfort of how I hold my neck still, but cannot move apart from what His expressed wishes are. “Now... Wash me." lay out bath rug before him  test water before turning on shower head pay close attention to every part of his body carefully avoid penis and scrotum look up for permission to touch some play with permission take whole length at once into mouth He holds me by my ears to use my mouth and throat.  He moves me gently, at a slower pace, considerate of my limits, testing me, but not pushing me. After some full strokes into my throat, He releases His hold and encourages me to stand with an outstretched hand taking my arm. "You took that well.” I meet his gaze and cannot look away while I right myself (something all too common even while not receiving particular attention from Him), His subtlely approving expression lingering on my face for a brief examination before intaking breath and shifting his gaze, clearly moving on in thought. "Wash my hair."  The command is slightly lofty; it could be spoken by a scientist experimenting with a machine that is in the middle of being programmed, testing its reaction. While I fetch my shampoo and pour an appropriate amount of product into my hand, He steps beneath the shower head to douse Himself.  I look up to find an image so similar to a ridiculous film scene taken in slow-mo, His eyes shut with head held back, hands alternating to rake his locks back before letting his arms rest at his sides, face leveling, gaze turning to affix mine.  He looks quite debonair with hair slicked back, and I say as much to him. He leans into my hands and seems to quite enjoy the lather I give his scalp. "I take it you're used to washing another's hair?" mention it's just part and parcel with scalp massage take care to wash soap from forehead when it gets near eyes already against the wall to give space for him to rinse his own hair pins me against the wall and bites my lip "Was your bath enough?" I wouldn't mind washing again. He takes the soap and cloth and washes me in turn, posterior first. When I turn around to face him, he doesn't pay special attention to my eroginous zones, just like when I washed him.  As he comes up from kneeling, he lets slip his finger into my folds, pressing lightly against my opening. (I can feel the distinct difference of texture between my fluid and the water) After only a slight pause, he reaches into me for the first time and curls his finger, smiling as I intake breath and tense my body. "You're wet"  I sheepishly say I did tell him as much. "That doesn't mean I believe you when you say it." He removes himself from between my legs to pinch my nipples firmly even as he speaks. It's harder than I've ever experienced, but the brevity makes it less damaging and more resonant. "I'm not even going to try to wash your hair, so I'll let you do that." I wash my hair and we make small talk to fill the air. "I used to be in better shape." talk of less-than-optimal status abdomens and exercise Sex is great exercise. "Yes, that's true, but the problem is it takes hours of raucious sex to get anywhere." I smile and nod with bitten lip. "Michelle, this isn't something for which I can take implied consent." I give him permission. "We should get out before we use all the hotel's hot water."  I step out first Fetch large towel for him first, then make my way toward the bed with my towel to let him use the restroom. thrown on bed prone with legs over edge He fingers me and grabs my hair. "There is one rule." What's that? "You must ask permission." I understand. continues manual stimulation with my hands over my head Please, let me. "Have you done anything to deserve it?" How may I serve you? "That doesn't answer my question." No. (spoken as answer to his question.) continues stimulation for a short time, smacking my lower legs down when they curl up due to his ministrations "How used are you to stretching your vagina? You may be sore tomorrow." My fluid is discolored and stains the white towel he uses to wipe his hands. He tosses it into my view. "Seems like that ship has already sailed." He fetches his new knife. presses my head to the bed, covering my ear and making it difficult to hear knife play marks me along ribs, in an asterisk under my left scap, and makes a seamless line from infra scapula to mid hamstring on the left he speaks an unheard question pauses  I realise his knife is at my throat and he removes his hand from my head. "That was a legitimate question." I explain his question was unheard. "How do you feel about being this knife's first blooding?" I find it erotic. I tell him as much. bloods along my sixth rib takes a picture Shows me I smile and sigh as he turns away and leaves me waiting. He takes his blade to my right side after some consideration, mirroring the single stroke from infra scap to (this time) the popliteal fossa.  turns me over fingers me and pins my wrists above my head, where I keep them moves his hand to my throat where he gives me the first choke of the night, made with only one hand, pressing me into bed I laugh after a few moments of irrelevant and comedic thought. "What's funny?" I feel like I've woken from a dream; think you blacked me out. binds my wrists with his belt, it slips, he tightens it again continues manual stimulation with me face up and on the edge of the bed. manipulates me into side-laying lays behind me He asks me a question, and I give a soft response He leans an ear down to my face. "Speak up." Snap at his ear, which he dodges. Presses my head into the bed and bites my neck. "If you're going to bite, then do it." I arch my back and press my behind into him in response. "Are you on any kind of birth control?" No. gives an annoyed look and rises to fetch a condom with a short sigh/chuff  He lets me watch him open the condom but I don't see him sheathe himself. makes me prone again He takes me, filling me all at once, pounding firmly from the start moves up to kneeling on the bed due to effort I bite my leather bond and unintentionally loosen it May I? "May you what?" be granted release "Together now." May I please release? "You may." I afterward apologize for bond loosening He flips me over easily. "Michelle, you're so tight." What do you expect? "But, you've stripped the condom off." Maybe I want it raw.(smile and bite lip) "Are you prepared to face the consequences?" pre-ejaculatory fluid has potential for pregnancy etc Starting period within a few days, irrelevant. He drizzles both me and his erection with lubricant, spreading over both before  "How's _this_?" so much better. I say as much. He raises my legs over his shoulders, grasps my calf, bites hard May I? "May you what?" orgasm (I'm breathless) "Cum for me." extended orgasm with lingering tension "Were you able to cum for me?" Yes. Take me how you want me. He cums over my stomach and chest I slip my hands out of the bond to stroke his shaft and scrotum "How you feeling?" Ecstatic, tingly, and very good with your cock in my hands. He gets up, smug, or maybe just domineering. "Clean yourself." tosses towl onto my stomach Talking near sink I'm dripping while standing eventually come back to the bed  kneel in front of him where he sits on the edge I pet his legs, hips, torso, arms as we talk, as his arms reach out to me second choke, double handed this time black out "You can't take it very long. That was maybe four seconds. The color drained from your face so quickly. It was fascinating; but then you started falling backward, and I figured I should let you have your blood back." still reeling when I get visually stuck on his legs and ask which one was hurt in the past have him lay prone on the bed work on lower leg/R hurt knee, brush my hair against his crotch as I get up skin roll on back, use forearm on L shld dripping throughout bodywork, running to-and-from to mop myself up he is amused talking while sitting/laying on bed moves to my side, standing takes hair, pets neck gets on bed supine "How are you on top?" pulls me onto him I'm unsure of my skill; I've never been given critique. unused to responsive bottom end up slowing down lean back after prompting "You're quivering" Of course. Would I be anything else? rolls me over "You were slowing down. Can't have that." moves quickly sweat drops onto me I think his effortful face is fascinating and stimulating, honoring to have so much effort used on me. rolls us to sidelaying while remaining embedded  grabs hair, neck, forces face to him, bites lip I clutch his arm to my chest. grasps at my thigh and ass often I'm able to slip my hand down to stimulate clit Attempts to caress his skin with my other hand are met by physical prevention. It is apparent to me that it is easy to break my wrist and he has carnal desire to do so. I mean to say please keep fucking me just like this; end up only saying "fuck me". "I thought that's what I'm doing." feel like a fool embarrassment adds to arousal May I please cum? "Yes" spoken slowly and with a satisfied grin extended orgasm with extraordinary sensitivity afterward lurching forward repeatedly, sending me hunched forward each time grasps my hair to hold me back even when I convulse "Even though the body is spent, it still struggles to fulfill the need to move, to arch, to thrust." I agree with a whimper. "You've got it easy." agree again, mention he's got it so much harder than I chuckle slightly and resist making a poor joke remain tight even as a slip relieves his erection from me  "Uh-oh. You're drying up. You should drink water." I lay wallowing in lovely sensation as he gets up. "No, I mean it. Drink water." Take as an order and right myself on the edge of the bed. I wobble and require aid of the wall for stability. "And yes, I did want to watch you walk." Talking Critique and feedback I ask if blowjobs are less preferred than handjobs He mentions they are quite synonymous, and both are great Talking Conversation turns to D&D. mention of "up they go" I reach for his groin. Up you go. "That was such a terrible joke." I continue stroking his shaft until he opens his legs to make room for me. He leans back on elbows to be more relaxed. moves to the pillows after a full minute of both hand and mouth. "You're wanting to outlast me? You're going to have to step up your game if you want to do that." I meet his eyes determinedly. I continue for some minutes, giving my best efforts. "If you had a glove and worked my prostate, I'd say you'd have a shot at best blowjob." Who needs a glove? begin to press into his anus "Lube, please." forgot it's not normal to have a moist anus work slowly deep throat, urethral tonguing, hot breath, swallowing on, anal rimming, fingering, and prostate massage, pinching of glans between first and second fingers' second knuckles edge thoroughly "Please, let me cum." (should have moaned with him in my throat) acquiesce end with stroking He grabs a pillow and clutches it to his face. yells into pillow as he cums over his chest careful to avoid glans, slowly stroke shaft and slowly stroke down prostate "Please withdraw." His voice is a little shaky. I ease out fetch a clean towel carefully wipe clean his chest and milk his shaft, careful with his glans clean his backside and underside of lube some discussion and he really does need to be on his way. I allow him to dress and we say our goodbyes. Triggers "(preform action) for me" "I want (you; to do _x_)" "You're mine."/"My __x__." nonchalance at another's extreme arousal and overt sexual frustration