Author's note: Out of respect for the readership at large, most of
whom are not a part of the BDSM community, I have retained normal
capitalization throughout this piece and done away with the I/I, W/we,
U/us form of writing.

Though first meetings don't usually evolve into a sexual situation and
rarely involve direct intercourse, stories such as this do happen.  The
ending is never this sweet nor the results this intense.  This is a work
of fiction, based on real life experience.  This author advises due
caution in any first meeting, and the total adherence to our motto,
"Safe, Sane, Consensual".

 
 
 
 

I was new to that particular dungeon and everyone could tell.  It screamed from every movement I made and every shift of my eyes.  I hated moving; hated losing my friends and the sweet comfort of familiar surroundings.  I had sat in that new town for six weeks before working
up the courage to walk into a strange dungeon.

The entrance was made harder still by my bare neck, only recently bereft of its collar and still sporting a glaring tan line where once leather had been.  But I walked in none the less and made all the appropriate
gestures to Dom and Domme alike.  Then I sought out a quiet corner in which to kneel and wait for One who might need me, be pleased by my appearance.  With blue eyes lifted only slightly to afford me a brief view, long blond hair covering their sparkle, I sat and waited.

The room was in disarray that night, bustling with activity but largely unorganized.  One small scene was taking place in the southern-most area, though I tried hard not to watch for fear of spoiling my first visit with an ill-timed orgasm.

And then I felt it: The heat of a glaring pair of eyes blistering my flesh and making it rash out in goosebumps.  Had I done something wrong?  Had Someone spoken to me and was now awaiting a reply?  I tried hard to find the source of that stare without being too obvious.  And then, as my eyes skittered about nervously, a large pair of black leather boots came into my field of vision.

My heart stopped and my breath stood silent in my throat.  I tensed every muscle in my body, fighting hard not to shake with fear.  But my body betrayed me as my palms began to sweat upon my thighs and my lips
quivered.  The boots made one circuit around my body, then again came to rest before me.  In silent force, a crop tapped the bottom of my chin, lifting my face and thus my eyes to this stranger.

His face was handsome, clothed in tanned skin and dark beard.  And his eyes, so subtly green/gray, cut me to the quick.  He did not smile, this tall broad man, he of the careless hair and crocodile stare.  But his lips quivered ever so slightly as though they might smile at any moment.

"You're new here, aren't you, girl?  I don't recall ever having seen you before."

His voice was so deep and resonant that it made my ears tickle from the hearing of it.  And my own voice, caught so tremulously in my throat, sounded like a croak by comparison.

"Yes, m'Lord," I answered quickly, lowering my eyes lest he see the need there.

"Welcome to our dungeon, little one.  Now, please rise and fetch me a martini.  Dry."

With that, he was away, crossing the room in long strides and finding his chair by rote.  My eyes followed him, hoping not to forget my way and thus slow my service.  Then I was off to the bar, mixing the martini
with quivering hands and placing it upon the tray.  Everything was new, placed differently from my old haunt.  As I crossed the room on bare feet, the white gauze dress dancing over thighs so pale they made the
dress seem dark by comparison, I prayed to whatever Gods protected us submissives, that I didn't spill the drink.

And then, as if I had done it a hundred times, I was kneeling before him, my back so straight, my legs spread and the tray held expertly within his easy reach.  He took the glass rom the tray, proffered a thin smile, showing off his handsome face in a new light.

"Your service pleases me, little one.  As do so many of your other. . . attributes."  He took a brief sip from the glass and then left it to the table and the warm air.  "Never lower your eyes to me, sweetness.  I like to see the effect I'm having on a girl."

Once more he rose from the chair, marching around me until I could no longer see him.  As my heart raced away with me, driven by nerves and need, he placed one strong hand on my shoulder and growled into my ear. "Stand, little one.  Let me have a good look at you."

Automatically, I stood to my full five-foot-three height, limbs still devoid of strength but my heart hammering nonetheless.  Then he was close, so close I could feel his breath on my neck, could feel his wordsvibrating against my flesh.  One large hand moved over my hips, pulling me closer to him as he whispered.

"You are very beautiful, little one.  And very young.  Recently uncollared, too."  He traced one finger from ear to wrist, making me shiver in cold delight.

I stood quite still, unnerved and yet thrilled by the heat I felt from him.  My spirit, though normally quite high and unruly, was quietly subdued by nerves and desire that night.  He had the effect of stealing my voice and my will; with a single touch he could make me wet.

"It would please me very much to scene with you tonight.  If you feel you are ready."

There was a note of challenge and mockery in that deep voice now and I could almost picture the smile on his face.  But I dared not turn, noteven when I heard the jingling of the cuffs in his free hand.  Instead, I could only manage a feeble, "Yes, sir."

"Excuse Me?  I'm afraid I didn't hear you, sweet one."

He was taunting me now, teasing me toward rebellion.  Had I been at home there, known the people better, I might well have risen to the challenge.  In a soft but firm voice, I managed, "Yes, Sir.  It would please me very much to scene with You tonight."

At once he was away from me, returning to his seat.  Large hands rested on the arms of the mahogany chair, the cuffs dangling from the left.  His eyes were clear and dazzling as they watched me, his face as stoic and unreadable as ever.  I licked my lips and waited, unsure of what would happen next.
 
 

"Come kneel before me, little one.  And remember the eyes."  Immediately, I moved to kneel before Him, taking care to keep my eyes soft on his face, studying it and searching for signs of faulty deception.

And then. . . SNAP. . . the cuffs closed tight around my wrist, fastening it securely to the arm of the chair.  Then the other followed suit and I was trapped, body between his legs and arms now useless to me.  He ran one impossibly soft hand over my cheek, thrilling me to delight and making me shudder.  There was so much power in this strange Man; so much passion.

Then his hand grazed over my breast, teasing only briefly at the nipple and yet hardening it instantly.  A smile curved his lips then and he looked down at me, my lips now parted to draw hasty breath and trembling
quite fiercely.  Then he was leaning forward, his lips brushing my ear and his hand grasping my breast brutally.

"If you have any limits, list them now.  Otherwise, I shall take you as I see fit."

"No children, no animals, no bodily fluids and no mutilation," I blurted quickly, suddenly biting my lip in the fear that I had been too hasty.

"Excellent."

His hand twisted in my hair then, dragging me into a brutal embrace, his tongue savage and hot in my mouth.  When he withdrew, there was a light in his eyes that I had not seen before, something at once fearsome
and yet calming.

"That is your first taste of me.  Unless you wish to taste my crop, you'll do exactly as you are told."
 

"Yes, sir," was my quick answer, my eyes darting instinctively to the floor.  He held me there for a moment longer, then released me with such force that I fell backward to the full length that my arms would allow.  My eyes shot up to watch him, his hand unzipping his pants and producing his member, already hard and huge in this girl's eyes.  "Please me," was his only

request as he dragged my face forward to press against his thigh.

My mouth was open before his last word spilt out, my tongue already grazing my dry lips and paving the way.  Then I engulfed his cock with my full lips as he held it, my eyes not quite able to see his and gauge his pleasure.  Slowly at first, my tongue teasing round the ridge and over the vein, I slid His cock deep into my waiting throat.  A muffled moan assaulted my ears then and I moved more quickly, sucking gently on him as I drew Him back out.

A sharp whack fell over my ass, the crop leaving a bright pink stripe over my pale flesh.  My hips bucked forward in surprise, my mouth slammed hard to the base of His cock by the fright.  And then again, thecrop bit into soft flesh, urging me faster as I sucked on him, my lips
tightening and my tongue swirling over the head at each backward stroke.

If only I could have seen His eyes, I would have known his pleasure.  But I could see only cock and soft curls, dewy now with sweat and saliva, as my own sex was even now drenched with need.  Faster now as the crop stroked fire over my ass, the other cheek now blazing from the heat and infecting my body.  But I kept my focus, working toward his release and taking communion of his huge cock.

 He throbbed in my mouth now, long fast strokes driving him down my throat, nearing explosion and begging for it.  The crop fell softer now, but more steadily, marking my rhythm for me as it stung my ass.  Then, without warning or word, he yanked my head back, slipping his cock from between my lips and eliciting a small gasp.

 "Onto My lap, girl!" He barked in that resonant voice.

Fighting against trembling legs and cuffed wrists, I made my way carefully onto his lap, knees pressing against his thighs, legs spread wide to offer my dripping sex as a willing sacrifice to his pleasure.  With a precision that was nearly instinctual, his hand was on my sex, one finger probing the depths of my need for him, drawing a smile to his face.

His free hand drew me forward once more, with power and grace, with need and desire.  As he devoured my lips with his, I had but one smoldering thought. . . no one else must ever touch me again.

I betrayed myself then, my lips too hungry, my passion too forceful.  He jerked me back immediately and landed a sharp swat to each breast.  His eyes told me no, but there was still amusement perched on his lips in the form of a quirky little grin.  I fought the urge to return it
with a smile, then waited patiently for him to need me again.

The wait was as short as his fuse.  In one swift movement, he had hold of my hips and was thrusting me upward, forcing me to my knees as he slid out from under me.  Wide eyes followed his movements as far as they were able, my passions momentarily stunted in favor of worry.

 Then he was behind me, his strong hands holding my hips.  One hand shot out and pressed my head forward and down until it was resting on the back of the chair, my ass thrust outward toward him.  Instantly, I was
covered in sweat and burning with passion.

He teased his cock along the crack of my ass then, parting my cheeks and sliding the slickened head of his erection over my anal star slowly.  I shuddered in abject desire at that, my face already bearing the imprint of the chair, my hands pulled behind me from the force of his one hand.  Then, just as I knew for certain he would force himself into me, he slipped downward and teased his cock over my hard clit.

I groaned then, softly and with a sharp intake of air.  Eyes closed, drifting with the heat of it, the rest of the room lost to me, I let him tease me to perfection.  His cock was now drenched with my fluids, sliding easily over my clit, stoking the fires as he pressed harder against it.

And then. . . it was gone.  No longer did I feel his cock on my sex.  No longer was his hand pressing my head to the chair.  For a long moment, I remained unmoving, afraid to turn my head or even move my eyes to look for him.  As I slowly gathered strength, driven by a wild need
and an ounce of courage, I shifted my gaze around to seek him out.

He was nowhere to be found.  I took more courage from this and craned my neck, looking all around behind me, but there was no sign of him.  Where had he gone?  Had he simply left me there to die from the desire.  Slowly, I turned around to face the back of the chair, my eyes almost straight ahead.

"Miss me?"

I jumped at his words, yelping a bit and nearly falling from the chair.  How had he managed to move so quickly?  And why?  In a flash, his hands were darting toward me, fastening a clamp on each nipple and
cinching it up tight.  I shuddered against the pleasing pain, then watched as he disappeared once more.  A blindfold was secured over my eyes then, blocking out everything and leaving me in darkness.

I listened intently to each sound he made, felt each movement as though it were critical.  The simple fact is, it was critical.  I did not know this man, had no idea of his methods.  He might well have tortured me mercilessly and, I suppose in a fashion, he did.  He left me there for an eternity, basking in my own heat and wetness, unable to move more than a few inches in either direction.

After many long moments of unbridled need and worry, his hands grabbed my hips once more, hauling them back and impaling me on his cock.  I cried out then, startled and filled with him.  There was no pre-amble, no scathing tease.  He merely took me.  He drove into me fast and hard, the head of his cock pounding against my cervix, driving my face harder to the chair back with each stroke.

One hand reached around and ravaged my clit, pinching and pulling at it, grinding it against his cock.  My hands twisted into fists and my eyes watered, straining to hold back my pleasure, waiting for his command before allowing myself release.  And still He drove into me, his
cock taking me again and again with as much force as I could bear, driving nearly through me with each thrust.

Ravaged to perfection and screaming my need for all to hear, I held fast to the cuffs and choked back my desire, praying he would let me cum before I lost consciousness.  Then he was tightening the clamps on my nipples, making them sing out with fresh pain and driving me near the edge.  My hands clenched around the short length of chain on the cuffs, knuckles white and skin raw.  And then he drew near, so near that his
words were like fire in my ear.

 "Cum for me, little bitch.  Cum hard!"

And with that I gave myself to him, every sweet moan, every delicious tremble became his to possess and enjoy.  He played me like a fiddle that night, making me cum three times before he ever allowed me the
pleasure of his gift.  And when he came, shooting so hot and deep inside me, it was like ascension.  He taught me things and made me feel things that I'd never felt before.  He taught me to fly that night and it was
at that moment, at the very same moment that he gave me my release, that I knew I was his.

That was nearly a year ago and I am still his.  He is still teaching me to fly and I am teaching Him to play chess.  He is guiding me with a firm but loving hand, meting out pleasure and pain as he deems necessary.  And I always strive to please him more, to love him more. And maybe one day I'll stop being prideful enough to actually let him win at chess.

 
About the Authoress:

Katrina is a former vanilla conservative Republican who came to this lifestyle several years ago and has yet to completely out herself because of her young children.  She is a writer by choice and a web designer and graphic artist by need.  Her first novel was written at age fifteen, optioned but never sold due to creative differences and the interference of the adults in her life.  Since then, she has written on and off, used the off times to get married and have children.  Most recently, her work can be seen in Twilight Showcase, Goddess of the Bay, Extremes, and the Chiaroscuro anthology.  She is currently engaged as associate editor of ChiZine and has tried to make her mark on the net, as well as the publishing world, by designing websites for publishers and writers alike.

About the Artist:

Sean Simmans is the Cover Illustrator of DEAD END STREET PUBLICATIONS LLC and the Creator of THE BELIEVABLE TRUTH @ Scowlzine and VIBE Nation (UK). In addition he illustrates for UMM Magazine (Canada) and is staff illustrator for Blood Moon zine.