First Training

A true account of my very first D/s scene from long ago.

I admit to being crabby on occasion. I can get impatient and frustrated easily, especially when I am in one of my “moods”. I found it irritating that Michael was trying to rush me out the door for the movie when it wasn’t even starting for another forty-five minutes. I had just gotten to his apartment, I was tired…school was long and boring, and it was hot outside. His apartment felt nice and cool, all I wanted to do was take a few minutes to unwind, chat about our day, and THEN go to the movie. But he kept persisting.

I sat indignantly his big, brown, Italian leather chair. My body seemed to melt into the soft, cool leather and I didn't want to move. I was sitting sideways so he could see my pussy showing from underneath my short skirt. I had intentionally worn this dress (a very short, loose black sun dress) to facilitate our play at the movies...and yet now he seemed oblivious to my subtle displays of horniness. He was fiddling around in the bathroom getting ready, I could hear the water turning off and on and hear him brushing his teeth. I sat in the chair, watching the TV, waiting, still hoping I could seduce him into waiting a little longer before leaving.

I saw his black hair and his deep brown eyes come peeking out from around the bathroom door. He stared at me and seemed to scan my body. He didn't even pause at my pussy. "Are you going to get your shoes on or not?" he asked. He was smiling, seemingly oblivious to my irritation at him. He was almost giddy! I will never understand the male psyche.

I got up, shooting a sideways glance at him as I went downstairs. I got into my strappy white heels and quickly went out to the car. I figured since he was in such a hurry I would go get in and clean off the seat for him, as I invariably had junk piled in there.

I got in and turned on the radio while I waited impatiently, if he wanted to go so bad, what was taking him so long! I fiddled around, trying to find a station that wasn't playing commercials. Finally, after a few LONG minutes I heard the door open and Michael yelled to me from the entry way, "Come here for a minute." he said, "I want to show you something." He was still wearing that goofy smile and the more he smiled the more irritated I felt myself getting.

I sighed in frustration. First, he wants to go, now he wants to stay! Men! I left the radio on and went inside; he had disappeared back into the apartment. 'What could be so important that it couldn't wait!'

As I swung open the door and made a move to close it behind me, I saw Michael standing against the wall behind the door. His smile was gone. He pushed his hand against the door, and I heard it slam shut. The sound startled me a little and I jumped and then smiled. "Now what?" I asked, reaching up to kiss him. I was now a little worried that my brattiness had really upset him. It occurred to me that I was being very immature, and I didn't really mean to make him angry. I had to let him know that I was just in a bad mood.

Before I could wrap my arms around his neck, he grabbed a hold of me harder than he ever had before. Gripping my hair painfully in his fist, he forced his mouth down on mine kissing me deep and hard. My perception of him not being horny was obviously wrong. I reached up again to wrap my arms around him, but he resisted, pushing my arms away and forcing them to my side. He exposed my neck to his bite, pinching the soft flesh of my shoulder between his teeth. I could feel the muscles being drawn in as well and the tendons popping as they rolled between his teeth. He was biting me more fiercely than he ever had in the past and while I loved it, I had to fight back the urge to cry out.

He released his grip on my shoulder and, using my hair as a lead, he quickly forced me down onto my knees and presented me with his hard, ready cock.

"Suck." he said. The tone of his voice made it clear that this was more than a casual request, this sounded like an order if ever I heard one. I reveled in his commanding presence over me as I took him into my mouth, sucking him greedily. He held my thick mane of hair tightly and used it to guide me up and down over the length of his cock. I was still reeling in the whirlwind of passion that was suddenly being unleashed before me, Michael was always taking me by surprise and today was no exception. I struggled to absorb all the of emotions and feelings that were washing over me in overwhelmingly fast succession. But.........

Before I was able to get my bearings, he was quickly pulling me to my feet again, the nape of my neck struggling against the pain of having the attached hair used as a leash. He guided me to my feet and quickly spun me around and then pushed me down again so that I was now bent over the stairs, my pussy completely available to him. I could feel the carpet, not exactly soft, under my elbows. I lowered my forearms for support as Michael raised my short skirt and began fucking me on the stairs. He fucked me hard and fast. Mercilessly pounding away at my pussy, I could feel the skin of my arms grinding against the course fibers of the carpet. The burning pain was one which I didn't have to endure long though....As Michael seemed unhappy with that position and quickly jerked my head up again. I struggled to support myself, now only my fingertips able to reach down to the step beneath me. He was using my hair to help draw me into meet his thrusts. He seemed unconcerned or unaware of the pain that shot through my head as he reamed on me in that way.

He reached down and pushed my dress up further, along with my bra, exposing my nipples. He began pinching and tugging on my hardened right nipple. He sent me into a dizzying, painful spiral as he continued his increasingly forceful thrusts between the lips of my drenched pussy. All I knew was pain at that moment. Pain in my head, pain in my breast, pain between my legs. And yet the more the pain seemed to overwhelm me, the more my pussy seemed to respond...sending moisture out to flood the inside of my legs, welcoming Michael's suddenly violent attention to my delicate flesh.

Suddenly he pulled out of me and dragged me up to my feet. My skirt fell back down over my ass but my breasts were still awkwardly exposed. He wound his fist full of my hair around and up against the nape of my neck and began pushing me up the stairs and I tried to bend my neck back to create more slack and lessen the pain that now screamed along my skull.

It wasn't until this precise moment that I realized we weren't going to the movie.

As that realization struggled to set in, I was able to gain enough courage and composure to mumble something about getting my purse and keys from the car, telling him I had left the radio on. I was scared to even speak, not knowing for sure what I was to do.

"Hurry up. Bring my shorts up with you when you come back in." He ordered. There was no tenderness in his voice. It was a stern, almost callous version of my lover which I had never witnessed.

I pulled my bra back into place and smoothed my dress down, trying to appear at least somewhat collected before I went out to the car. I scurried down the stairs and did as I was told. I ran out to the car and grabbed the keys from the ignition and pulled my purse out of the back seat. I could feel my hands trembling. I had been wanting this for so long, and yet now that I was sure I was going to get it I was terrified and unsure. I was trying desperately in the few moments I had to myself to recall all the things he had told me about training...what to expect, how to behave. I so badly wanted to please him and show him that I was worthy of his efforts and his Domination.

As I entered the house again, I took off my shoes...as I always did when I came in. I set my purse and my keys on the steps. He yelled down to me, in his new emotionless voice, "Lock the door before you come up." I turned around, unthinking, simply responding to his commands. I grabbed his shorts which he had discarded in the entry way and ascended the stairs. I had given up on trying to prepare myself. I would do my best and that was all I could do.

He met me on the landing about three steps from the top, where the stairs made their curved up into his living room. He grabbed the shorts out of my hand and threw them around the corner and down the hall back toward his bedroom. He grabbed my hair again violently and repositioned my dress in the haphazard manner it had been in downstairs before I had gone out to my car. As he began fingering my pussy, his words began their caress of my soul, “Whose pussy is this?" he asked.

"Yours Master." I whispered as his fingers worked my pussy harder.

"You belong to me. Do you understand?" he asked.

"Yes Master." My voice responding as if I were in a trance, the feeling of his fingers sliding in and out of me and his words filling me with a sense of rightness and completeness.

"You are home." He said.

I hadn't heard those words from him since the first day we met, but I knew it was true. Under his spell, I felt at completely at home.

"I want you to go stand in the living room and wait for me." he said, kissing me on the mouth and then pushing me up the last three stairs into the living room.

I moved toward the center of the room and stood facing the hall which led to his bedroom, I wanted to be able to see him coming. I was trembling in fear and apprehension, he was a different person now, he seemed cold and distant; possessed by a desire that was completely unknown to me. And while I desired his touch, I was scared by the suddenly foreign feeling of it. He was now a mystery to me.

He came out of the room, he walked toward me with a sense of purpose, and I immediately tried to read his eyes...to see what he was thinking, to get some feeling for what he wanted, what he was going to do with me.

"You are not to look at me. Do you understand." He said matter-of-factly as he moved around his leather couch to stand in front of me, inspecting me.

I lowered my stare. I did know better than that...I also knew that was going to be the hardest rule to follow, for I loved to look into his eyes. I found comfort and security there, usually.

He stepped closer to me; I saw he was holding the leather collar he had shown me once before. He moved around behind me and placed the soft band against my neck and held it in place while he used his other hand to move my hair out of the way. I felt him positioning the buckle, it seemed the collar had only two options, to lose or to tight. He opted for too tight. He turned it around, so the O-ring was in the front and then he too came around in front of me. I could feel him staring at me, his eyes burning into my soul. I didn't want him to see my fear. I didn't want him to think I was weak. I brought my hands up to his waist, I wanted to touch him, to feel that comfort, that safety that I always felt in his arms. To be reassured that it was all going to be OK, but he forced them down to my side.

"You do not touch me unless I tell you to do so. And no eye fucking. Do you understand?" he asked,

"Yes." I whispered.

"Yes what?" He corrected.

"Yes Sir." I said through trembling lips.

There was a slight irritation in his voice. I didn't want to disappoint him! But I now felt a renewed sense of fear. I was alone. He was not going to be holding my hand through this...he was going to be driving me through it but it was up to me alone to withstand.

He reminded me that I was only to say yes, no, my safe word, or ask him for something I needed. Otherwise, I was not to speak.

He then retreated to his room, leaving me there alone again. There was torture in my isolation, the anticipation of what was to come was almost as bad as the torment of desiring it for so long and not getting it. As he appeared again, I could see he was carrying his riding crop. He had once run it over my ass, tickling and petting me with it. But I was pretty sure today would be less gentle.

"Is this what you have wanted my slut?" he asked.

There was almost a note of sarcasm in his voice, and I was not sure how to interpret it! It scared me and renewed the trembling which I had managed to have almost under control until that moment.

"You are going to get it today.........I just hope you realize what you have asked for." He said. It sent a chill up my spine.

He walked around me, inspecting me. He ordered me to spread my legs, tapping the inside of my thighs with the leather crop to reinforce his point. I jumped a little but did as I was told. He continued circling me and I could hear in his step and his breathing that he was somehow displeased.

He walked up to me and kicked my right foot. "Square up, what is this?" he asked.

I tried to absorb his complaint and do what he asked and square up...but my feet wouldn't move. I looked down; I couldn't feel them beneath me to straighten them up. I felt a sudden panic, I had to mentally will myself to adjust them into the correct position, making them square with my shoulders. He then reminded me to keep my lips slightly parted, raising his crop up and placing it between my teeth for emphasis.

I then felt him grab my hair, walking around in front of me he kissed me hard....biting my neck once more. The urge to touch him overwhelmed me but I kept my arms at my side. His hand was between my legs again and I stood prone while he roughly fucked my pussy with his fingers. I had a hard time focusing on anything. As his teeth clamped down on my shoulders, I forgot about the pain he was raising between my legs with his hand. Then, as he paused his assault on my neck...the pain inside my pussy became acute and consuming. It was a dizzying dance between the two sensations and yet it thrilled me...having never felt such intense pleasure brought on my such confusing pain.

He then released his grip on my flesh and withdrew from my pussy. My sensations now deserted...I felt hungry and full of desires to have him again inflicting pain upon my soft flesh.

He began walking around me...I wasn't able to see the look in his eyes...all I could here were his words...as I sit writing this, I can't recall them exactly. Then the sound I will never forget, the sound of the crop, it whistling through the air, the sound of it striking flesh, the image of red welts raised against the pale of skin. Not mine...but his.

He circled around me, over and over, striking his leg with the leather crop. An instrument which looks so gentle and beautiful and yet terrifying! He went on for what seemed like hours, but it must have been merely a few minutes. With every strike to his leg...the anticipation of it landing on my ass built up and fear consumed me. I hadn't felt them forming but suddenly tears began running down my cheeks. I didn't want him to stop, I didn't want him to think me weak. I wanted to explain, I wanted to wipe them away and hide them from him and make them stop. But I couldn't! I didn't make any moves, I stood motionless, waiting for him to make his desires known to me.

He then stopped, the crop lay idle in his hand, and I felt temporarily relieved. He ordered me to get on my knees. I was still feeling completely in shock at the situation, and it took me a moment to comprehend his request. I began to drop to my knees, and he chastised me for my hesitation. I was doing my best, but it was all so new, the sensations I felt...or rather the LACK of sensations was almost mystical.

I finally managed to get onto my knees. I sat erect with my back straight awaiting his next instruction. He then informed me that I could sit back on my ankles if it would be more comfortable. I wasn't sure if he was just informing me or ordering me and I sat prone, unsure of what to do, not wanting to speak and yet scared that I was not obeying an order. I was relieved when he ordered me onto all fours.

I knew I could do this position properly. I lowered my hands to the rug, the oriental pattern weaving beneath my fingers.

"Good" he said, and then walked out of the room.

I knelt on the floor, trying to focus on something, I studied the pattern the carpet made beneath my fingers, the red lines weaving under and over odd shapes, blue and brown, I became almost entranced in the design, envisioning it as a maze, looking for the right path through, the way out.

Then I heard him walk out of his bedroom and approach me. I did not look up. I just held my body motionless. Then suddenly, I felt his hand entering my pussy, I could tell he was now wearing his leather gloves. It felt odd to have the leather barrier between his gentle hand and my soft flesh.

"You know that I had this same glove in Dominique's pussy don't you!" He said. "I had her in this same position and fucked her with my hand just like this."

His words invaded my senses, the idea of the leather soaking in the juices from her, his former slave, and now being buried deep inside me to absorb me as well was dizzyingly erotic to me. I moaned at the sheer pleasure of the idea and melted into his hand as it moved in and out of me. I had wanted for so long to experience what she has experienced; I had craved to know the sensations he talked of giving her, and now here I was.

He then withdrew from me and replaced his hand, almost instantly, with his cock. He wasted no time and took no pity on me. He fucked me harder than he had ever fucked me before that day, and I struggled to maintain my position. I had the urge to touch myself and yet realized that I was not my own to be touching at that moment. That realization subdued me and held me there just as if I had been shackled. I embraced the pleasure he was giving to me as he fucked me and knew within the depth of my soul how deep his possession of me ran.

After he had used me to his satisfaction, he pulled his hard cock out of my pussy and stood me up. I immediately felt the wetness running down my legs. He picked his crop up off the couch and placed it between my teeth. "Don't move." he instructed.

I looked over and watched as he went back into his room, I could hear him getting something, but I was not yet familiar enough with his implements to decipher what he was bringing back for me, I could hear a sturdy zipper opening, and the sound of metal clanking against metal...but it meant nothing to me except anticipation. When he appeared again, I saw the leather lead which he kept in his bag of goodies. He clipped it onto my collar and took the crop from my mouth. He then led me into the bedroom, pulling me behind him, it was such a demeaning and yet erotic display. I had a fleeting thought of 'What would someone think if they saw us now?' I struggled to stifle the giggle that welled up in me, knowing that he would be furious and disappointed in me, doubting my seriousness and commitment to the scene if I were to begin laughing. I think it was the tension of the situation which brought it forth...but I was able to suppress my laughter and follow him into the room without incident.

He unzipped my dress and pulled it down over my arms and then lowered it to my ankles. I instinctively stepped out of it, and he threw it over by the door to his bedroom. He then unfastened my bra and threw it over on top of my dress. As I stood there naked at the end of his bed, I knew I was as vulnerable as I had ever been before in my life, and yet I was more comfortable and secure than I had ever been before either.

He went over to his bag, still open on the bed and pulled out the leather manacles which he had let me try on once, just for fun. He began wrapping them around my wrists, first the left. Then, instead of wrapping the other one around my wrist in front of me, (so he could clip it to the collar like he had demonstrated for me before) he took my other hand behind my back and fastened it there.

Then, without warning, he pushed me down onto the bed. I was laying on my stomach, my legs draped off the end uncomfortably. He then ordered me to bring my knees up onto the bed, which I thought would be more comfortable. Instead, the position forced my shoulders to press down into the mattress because of the manacles and forced my neck to bend upwards in a position which was painfully uncomfortable and yet somehow perfect. My ass was high in the air, making my pussy or my anus readily available to his cock, hand, or mouth.

I listened as he wandered around the room, and I awaited his touch. I tried to relax and prepare, I knew that it was inevitable, that he would at some point inflict pain upon me. I have never been one big on pain and I took the few moments I had to try and brace myself for the possibilities. I had seen all of his various crops and floggers...but he had never used any of them on me with any force.

Finally, I felt him move up behind me and begin stroking my ass with what I felt certain to be his crop. Then, with little warning, the first stinging sensation penetrated my ass. Again...and again...over and over....it was a rapid succession...so rapid I didn't have time to absorb the pain of the first blow before the next blow landed...such rapid succession that I was barely startled when the strikes of the crop subsided, and he penetrated my pussy with his rock-hard cock. There was no foreplay, no teasing my pussy, nothing but whatever his whim dictated, trying to anticipate those whims was futile. He fucked my pussy hard, relentless. The position, coupled with the pounding, bent my neck farther, causing it to strain against my collar. I had to struggle to keep the pain from overwhelming me. I was finding it difficult to relax into my objectified state.

With as little warning as he had begun fucking me, he now pulled out, his cock leaving a trail of pussy juice across my thigh as he exited. I listened as he went into the bathroom, and I tried to adjust my neck into some more comfortable position...to no avail.

He came back to me and again began stroking my ass again. It felt different this time, thicker and stiffer than the crop. I tried to recall all of the objects I had seen in the case where he kept all of his tools...'it must be the dogging bat', I thought to myself. For some reason I seemed to find comfort in knowing...or at least imagining, what it was that was coming.

"You will count each stroke. Do you understand?" he said.

"Yes Master." I whispered.

He corrected me and instructed me to use Sir.

The leather crop came down hard on my ass. The pain was undeniably more intense than it had been with the first crop, but I counted along as he delivered the first three strikes. Then he took pause to give my pussy more attention...before proceeding with four more blows. He stopped when we got to seven and fucked me hard. I felt as if he was fucking me as punishment, his cock pounding into me so forcefully that it hurt...not only my pussy...but my neck. Forcing me down harder into the bed. He then stopped. Again, abandoning my pussy and leaving it feeling vacant and hungry for more. The feeling of being less a woman and more of a pleasure toy at his disposal sank in and made me feel a kind of relief. I didn't have to do anything to please him. All I had to do was NOTHING to please him...accept what he asked of me.

He resumed my cropping...giving me four more and bringing me to eleven. I struggled to keep count. He paused again, this time to bury his fingers in my dripping pussy and then bring them up and force them into my mouth...before replacing them with his cock and fucking my face. I wondered if he was trying to get me to lose count so he could start over. I didn't know if I could take it if we had to start over. And if he did start over...he would be much less gentle. He removed his cock, and I was able to count the last few up to eighteen. At this point though, the pain was starting to take effect and I felt slightly removed from the scene...unable to count all the blows...because it was as if I wasn't receiving them any longer. They were falling on my body, reddening my flesh...but it wasn't my body any longer...it was his.

He got behind me and began fucking me again. I floated in a kind of limbo...between sheer pain and detached pleasure. In one moment, being flooded by the pain and the discomfort of my position combined with the animal like fury with which he fucked me. In the next moment, being wrapped up in emotions over how I felt about the way he was fucking me. Not feeling the pounding thrusts but watching them, removed from the experience. Seeing myself as no longer an individual, no longer a being of my own accord...but as an appendage to him. Feeling as if I were merely a shell, a safeguarding his pussy, holding it for whatever pleasure or pain he saw fit to deliver unto it.

He pulled out of my pussy, and I was brought back to the pain in my neck and shoulders. He didn't leave me this time however, he began rubbing his cock between my soaked pussy lips and then up, coating my ass. I knew what he now desired. I felt his cock begin the slight penetration of my tight hole...and then with one violent thrust, it was buried deep. The shock of his initial thrust did not bring the wave of pain I had anticipated. It felt so completely right to be used by him in such a way, I could do nothing more than moan in pleasure. I now believe that the tears which began to again streak my face were not the product of any one thing...but they were the combination of all things...they were the product of my overwhelmed body, succumbing to the inevitable. They were the pain in my neck, the pleasure of my weakened and humbled state, the confusion over my inability to stay grounded in the moment...the fear of what was happening to me, as my mind seemed to drift in and out of awareness. I felt so filled with joy...so loved at that moment...and yet terrified and pained as well.