A Sub's First Time

I have been driving for about two hours now. The steep mountain roads have given way to a flat stretch of highway and I can finally allow myself to relax and indulge in a bit of fantasy about the possibilities of tonight. The sense of excitement that has been gradually building in me all day starts to increase and I can feel myself getting wet as I try to imagine what he has planned for me. I take one hand off the steering wheel and let it venture slowly, gently under my skirt, touching myself lightly through my black tights. As I tease myself for a few minutes I realize that if I am not careful, I could bring myself to an orgasm right here in the car. I know I should stop, but I just can't seem to take my hand away. A soft moan escapes my lips, and then, as if he knew what I was doing, I am startled out of my reverie by the sound of my cell phone ringing; I answer it somewhat breathlessly.

"Where are you?" he demands.

"Um, about 20 minutes away, I guess." I glance at the clock and realize with a sinking feeling that I am going to be late.

"Why are you out of breath?" he asks, with a twinge of menace in his voice. "You haven't been touching yourself while you drive, have you? That is very dangerous, you know."

I try to stammer a reply but before I can, he cuts me off sharply.

"You can expect a punishment for this when you arrive," he says.

I gasp delightedly, his words cutting through me like an icy, but not unwelcome, knife; before I can even answer, he has hung up. I drive the last few miles as quickly as I can, struggling to keep my hands on the wheel instead of under my skirt, grinning the whole time.

When I pull into the parking lot of the motel, I quickly gather my things and walk inside, enjoying the sound of my high heeled boots clicking across the parking lot, swinging my hips a little more seductively than usual, hoping that he is watching me. I'm still juggling my keys, bag, cell phone, and purse as I knock on the door. I hear him inside.

"I want you to close your eyes," he says calmly from the other side of the door, "and turn around. Then I want you to walk into the room backwards."

My earlier sassy confidence disappears at these words and I feel a pang of fear shoot through me; for a minute, I think seriously of calling this whole thing off. This has always been a fantasy of mine, but can I really go through with it? I hesitate for a long moment, gathering my resolve; then I take a deep breath, close my eyes, and turn around. I hear the door open behind me and I expect him to touch me, to help guide me in somehow. He doesn't. Instead he instructs me to take four steps backward. My eyes are closed, I'm not used to wearing high heels, and my hands are still full; it's unsettling and I feel disoriented and slightly off balance. I fight against the urge to open my eyes as my level of fear rises a notch. But I know that if I am going to do this, I have to let go and trust him, so I take another deep breath and awkwardly take a step backwards into the room.

"Good," he says, "that's right."

I take another couple of tentative backwards steps, and then I hear him close and lock the door.

"Stop there," he says, and I do.

I feel him take the things out of my hands and set them down, slowly and deliberately. My heart is racing and I almost give in to the panic.

"Keep those eyes closed," he says and I nod, almost in tears.

Now that my hands are empty, I don't know what to do with them; I instinctively clasp them behind my back, then think better of it and let them fall to my side. I hear him, but I can't tell exactly where he is. I wonder what I look like to him, standing there with my eyes closed, breathing heavily, trembling, biting my lip to keep from crying out. He comes up behind me and takes off my jacket without a word.

"Put your arms up and hold your hair out of my way," he commands and I comply. "You are going to feel something on your face," he says, and then I feel him slip a blindfold over my eyes; he adjusts it and fastens the buckle tightly. I briefly consider complaining that it is too tight, but decide against it. The pressure of it turns out to be somewhat comforting, giving me a vague sense of security.

"Now," he says quietly, his face close to my ear, "I am going to give you a safe word; if at any point you want to slow things down, say the safe word once. If you want to stop things completely, say the word twice in rapid succession and all activities will stop immediately; do you understand?"

"Yes," I reply breathlessly, as a delicious sense of anticipation slowly overtakes my fear.

"Good. Tonight, you will address me as..." he pauses here for what seems like forever, and I bite my lip, waiting expectantly. "Sir," he finishes, and my insides feel like they are going to melt. I sway on my feet as he continues, "And I will call you slave. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Sir," I reply, reveling in the startling effect those raw words have on me; I am almost consumed by my desire to belong to him, to let him possess me in a way that no one has ever before.

"Good. Now, hold out your hand," he says, and I feel him give me a small glass. He instructs me to drink and I do, feeling the heat of tequila passing over my lips and down my throat. He fills it again and I drink again.

"Good," he says. "And by the way, you look very pretty tonight."

"Thank you, Sir," I say giddily, as a wave of pure, girlish delight courses through me.

By now I am dying to feel his touch on my body, and as if he can hear my thoughts, he slowly pulls up my skirt and begins to caress my legs through my tights. As I luxuriate in the sensation, he steps behind me again and quickly pulls my tights down just enough to expose my panty-less ass to his view. I stand there for a moment, feeling wonderfully exposed and vulnerable, hoping what he sees is pleasing to him, until he tells me to turn around and step forward. As I walk forward blindly, skirt still up, tights still down, I feel my legs run into something soft; the bed, most likely. I think he is sitting down now, but I'm still disoriented and I can't really tell.

"Bend forward," he says, and I automatically put my hands out to brace myself; he catches my arms and says firmly, "Trust me."

I put my arms down, and as I feel him gently lower me down onto his lap, I again feel an overwhelming need to surrender myself completely to him. He runs his hand over my exposed flesh, lightly, gently, and I wonder if he intends to spank me yet. Suddenly, I feel his hand slip into the wetness between my legs and I cry out at the pleasure of it. He teases me for a moment, running his fingers all around me and then finally inside of me, bringing me unbearably close to a climax; when he feels me getting close, he slows down his pace, tormenting me. I savor the titillating agony of being so close to an orgasm but being forced to wait; this is one of my favorite feelings in the world and I'm pretty sure he knows it.

"You are not to cum without my permission; do you understand me, slave?"

"Yes," I moan, and immediately catch my mistake. "Yes Sir," I repeat quickly, but it is too late.

"Oh, you will be punished for that," he says, and suddenly his hand stops.

He orders me to stand up, and as I do, he pulls my tights further down my legs, stopping at the top of my knee high boots, and leaves them there. He pulls my dress slowly over my head and then deftly unhooks my bra, letting it fall to the ground. I shiver at the feeling of the cool air all over my bare body and I feel my nipples immediately harden. He reaches out and strokes my nipples for a few tantalizing moments, teasing them, pinching them mercilessly. Then he reaches between my legs again, exploring me with his fingers; I instinctively grab onto his shoulders, craving some real affection. Immediately, he stops fingering me.

"Did I tell you you could touch me, slave?" he asks sharply.

"No Sir," I say meekly, returning my shaking hands to my side; I silently curse myself for such a foolish mistake.

Now he steps away from me and I can hear him moving around; I hear him unzip his pants and take his clothes off. I hear him open something, a drawer perhaps, and I hear him moving things around. I hear the distinct sound of something metal and I am driven half mad from wondering what it is and what he plans to do with it. And then, I hear nothing. Silence. I stand there, trying desperately not to move, panting, waiting, practically naked and totally helpless, knowing he is there somewhere, looking at me. I wonder again what I look like to him and if he is enjoying my distress. The feeling of standing there, completely exposed, unable to see anything, not knowing where he is or what he is doing is at once sublimely terrifying and exhilarating. My fear and arousal mix into a dizzying cocktail of desire that threatens to drive me to an orgasm right then and there, without even a hand to touch me. It's almost too much and for a minute I wonder again if I can do this; finally, I feel the reassuring touch of his hand on my back.

"Walk forward," he commands, "until you feel the wall."

I do as I am told, thankful to hear his voice again, and when I feel his hands grab hold of my wrists, I am thankful for that too. He raises my arms over my head and presses my hands firmly into the wall.

"This hand stays here" he says, applying a bit of force to stress the point, "and this one stays here."

I nod and softly say, "Yes Sir."

"Good, you are learning," he says.

He steps back again, leaving me pressed up against the wall, hands above my head, my back to him. I feel him reaching for something next to me, and before I can even wonder what he is looking for, I feel soft leather straps gently stroking the skin on my back, on my legs, on my ass. It is an exquisite sensation, no pain at all, just a delightful tickle all over my body that makes me wriggle and arch my back for more.

"Mmmmm, nice, hold your body just like that," he says appreciatively, and I moan as I feel the lashes get a bit harder, then a bit harder still. He starts to flog me with increasing intensity, and before I even know what is happening, I am crying out, pressing my hands into the wall with all of my strength, basking in this unfamiliar hybrid of pleasure and pain. Suddenly he stops. As he reaches between my legs again I am panting, so close to cumming I can hardly stand it.

"Please," I beg, "Please, can I cum, Sir?"

"No!" he says forcefully, and withdraws his hand.

Suddenly I feel a different sensation, a different instrument being used to spank me, harder this time, with more force. It stings a little, and I cry out again at the unexpected pleasure of this, feeling my arousal deepen as each fiery swat lands on the sensitive skin of my ass. Just as I think I can't take any more, he stops. How does he know exactly what I need? I feel his hand between my legs again, but before I can react, I feel the cold touch of something metal, maybe the instrument I heard earlier; it feels like it might be a chain of some sort. I'm afraid of what it might be, afraid it might be more than I can handle; he rubs it gently but insistently against me, and despite my apprehension, I can feel my climax approaching again.

"No," he says, before I can even ask, and I try desperately to control myself, pushing my hands into the wall harder and biting my lip to stifle my moans.

Then his hands move up my body and I can feel the cold metallic touch on my nipples now, teasing them, pinching them. I am panting and writhing against my will, powerless to control these sensations that are overtaking my body; I hear him order me to stand still, and I try my hardest to make my body obey, to please him. Then the chain is gone and his hands are between my legs again, one finger rubbing my clit while the rest of them slide inside, filling me, driving me unmistakably to the brink of an orgasm.

"Please, please let me cum, Sir!" I almost sob, "Please!"

"No," he says again.

I struggle in vain to hold on, desperately trying to fight off my impeding climax, but despite my best efforts, I lose control. I scream out loud as I feel my orgasm overpower me, shaking me to my very core with unspeakable pleasure, almost knocking me off my feet with its intensity. I cum over and over as he continues to finger me, all the while keeping my hands pressed into the wall; I vow to be obedient on that command, at least.

I'm still cumming as he tells me to stand up straight and I do my best to comply. He grabs me, turns me somewhat forcefully, and bends me over what feels like a dresser. The pressure of the hard wood on my stomach and his strong body on my back feels like heaven after so long with only minimal touch. It grounds me and brings me back into myself and I lift my back gratefully to meet him, intoxicated by his smell, his touch, the sheer presence of him. I feel his hardness against me, pushing into me ever so slightly; I want him inside me more than I have ever wanted anything in my entire life and I feel like I will crumble into a million pieces if he doesn't take me soon. Then I feel a trickle of baby oil run down my ass and I know what this means; he is going to take me in the way that he wants, the way that is still very new to me. A twinge of fear returns, even though we have done this part before, and for a brief moment, I think of using the safe word. But before I can consider it further, I feel him start to enter me.

"Just relax," he says softly, gently, "you've done this before, you know you can take it."

I take a deep breath and I will my body to relax as he slowly eases himself into the most delicate part of me.

"That's it, that's a good girl," he says, and with those words I feel myself let go completely and allow him to enter me fully, wanting nothing more at that moment than to please him.

A dark, forbidden pleasure overtakes me almost at once, and as we move in rhythm together, I realize that despite my misgivings, I am quickly approaching another orgasm. I lift my feet off the floor and wrap them around his legs; I grip the side of the dresser tightly with my hands while he thrusts into me more deeply that I even dreamed possible and I feel myself give in to this unaccustomed sensation. My body feels weightless, and as I start to cum again, it becomes impossible to tell where one orgasm stops and the next one begins; I cum over and over again, losing myself in the absolute bliss of the experience, as he strokes my back reassuringly, quietly murmuring words of encouragement and approval. After what feels like an eternity, I finally lie still, exhausted, trying to catch my breath. I feel him shift subtly behind me.

He tells me to stand up and I do, keeping myself pressed tightly to him, and we move back over to the wall as as one body, locked together. He starts to thrust into me again, standing up this time, pressing my face up against the wall; although I know I could cum again very soon, I turn my attention to him, my master. I want to feel him cum inside of me, to know that my body served him well and that he took as much pleasure in this experience as I did. I can tell he is getting close as his breathing gets faster and his moans get louder. His hands on my hips tighten and I focus all of my attention on the feeling of him inside me, getting ready to cum.

"Yes, yes, yes!" I scream out as I feel him explode inside of me, and I too climax one last time. We ride the waves of delirious pleasure together for a few moments, and I am transported to another place beyond time, beyond words. After our orgasms subside, we lean against the wall together, feeling our breathing return to normal, his body still pressed firmly against me, my body becoming relaxed and supple; I feel him slowly pull out of me and I shudder with the sudden emptiness.

He leads me gently over to the bed where he wipes me down tenderly with a warm towel, then carefully removes my blindfold. I blink at the brightness of the light as I start to come back to reality.

"Was it this bright the whole time?" I ask, still somewhat dazed.

"Oh, it was brighter," he says playfully, and I feel my cheeks redden with embarrassment as I duck my head to hide my face. He puts his finger under my chin and pulls my head up to meet his gaze; I see his face for the first time that night and I smile into his eyes. He kisses me deeply, passionately and as I catch a glimpse of us in the mirror, all of my embarrassment melts away. I see a sexy, voluptuous woman, her body soft and spent, languidly draped over her lover's muscular frame. I see his strong arms encircling her, her hair spilling over his broad chest, and I marvel at the fact that I am this woman. I sigh a deep sigh of absolute, profound contentment and I drift off to sleep in his arms with a faint smile on my face, wondering what other surprises he has in store for me.