Behind the story:
The following story began as a series of messages sent to my girlfriend. She had asked me to share a fantasy with her, so I just started writing a couple of paragraphs at a time- whenever I could find it- or whenever she demanded. Alas, I discovered tragically that it failed to record all of those earliest texts- the headwaters of this whole tale. So I began to archive what remained and what followed- only after that sad discovery. The beginning scenes are missing except for these vague details I can still remember. Perhaps I'll re-write them sometime.
As I sent this fantasy- text by text- to my girlfriend, an amazing thing began to happen. "Our Story" began to take on a life of its own. Sometimes she would take a turn, and interject with a segment of her own... But when the narrative arced in a challenging new way, she requested that I change the names of the characters to help her separate them from us. Eventually she stopped contributing, remarking that she didn't know 'where it was going,' but she still wanted to hear more- commanding me to keep writing and sending her every new segment as soon as it was done.
This is all to explain that there are certain perspective and style discontinuities that I have left in-tact on purpose; but if you're patient and dare to keep reading, you'll notice that eventually the verb-tense and perspective conform to agree on one first-person- that being 'me.'
I like my girlfriend's interjections and I hope you will too. Also with the aid of this story, she really began to grasp the handle of her not-so-proverbial whip, and I found myself more and more worshiping her in our real-life sexual relationship. She punished me with butt-plugs, panties, hard spankings, and even locked my cock up in a cage she purchased herself. Many of the events described in this story are entirely autobiographical, and some are purely fantasy. I leave it to you, dear reader, to guess which are which.
*****
Backstory:
I was very attracted by her picture, as I walked by it, it seemed to beckon me. The beautiful Amanda Adams- a 3/4 profile, long brown hair, oh such a face! It was her business card which I found on the bulletin board at my health-food store. When I showed up for my very first personal training session with Amanda, I was surprised to find her gym void of all other patrons- so it would be just the two of us.
In person, her beauty and charisma were unspeakably hypnotic. Her candor was equally seductive. How could somebody so young and vibrant be so authoritative? She seemed so natural taking on the role of my trainer. Her orders were forceful and somehow suggestive... Was something happening between her and I? What was this strange and exciting chemistry happening between us?
After an hour or so of flirtations and rigorous weight training, I was covered in sweat. She had me really pushing my limits but it felt good to exert myself so hard and wonder if I pleased her.
She explained that I needed lots of additional training and that she would accept me as a special client free of charge if I could pass a series of tests. If at anytime I refused to continue with the testing procedure, I was free to go. I smiled tellingly and agreed to try. She needed to prepare a few things and excused herself leaving me smiling amazed, sitting on the bench press, and looking at my silly reflection over the rack of bar-bells.
Sitting this way, my mind began to drift and my cock began to stiffen at the smell of her subtle pheromones which lingered in the air. I began to rub at the bulge in my shorts teasing myself fully erect beneath the fabric- teasing myself right up to the edge of pre-cum. I wondered what kind of tests she could possibly have in mind for me. The way she said those words made my think it was going to be something... sexy. I pulled and tugged at my cock even checking myself out in the mirror to see if I was making an impressive bulge.
Little did I know that she had been watching me through the 2-way glass and recording the whole thing. She came back out and startled me out of my reverie. She invited me into the back room which would have made a comfortable living quarters. I could see the whole gym and the bench where I had just been flexing through what I then realized was 2-way glass.
The realization that she had been watching me crossed my face and immediately erased my smile- but not my arousal. That's when she ordered me to strip. I couldn't hide my astonishment. She repeated the command, flat out telling me to take off all my clothes- get completely naked in front of her right then and there. I didn't know what she had in mind, but I liked the idea of getting physical with her in any capacity, and she didn't seem like she would take 'no' for an answer.
After my clothes lay in a little pile on the ground below my trembling legs, she produced a bright pink pair of lace-thong panties from behind her back, she held them out to me, telling me to, "Put these on, Buttercup."
I wasted no time sliding the frilly, stretchy fabric over my half hard member. My penis and testes protruded out from all sides in the front and the pink fabric stretched around me most awkwardly.
In my embarrassed arousal she could have made me do anything she wanted. What she did order me to do next was to march myself over to her pillory stock, bend over and place my neck and wrists in the lower half of the restraints. She closed the upper half down on me bolting the apparatus very effectively closed. I tried to wriggle my hands free but soon found out it was futile. Just like that, I found myself completely her prisoner.
Never in my life had I hitherto felt so helpless.
Wordlessly, she began kicking apart my naked feet and ankles until they felt about 3 feet apart. She ordered me to keep my feet this way. Next I heard some whooshing noises behind me. Amanda had picked up a bamboo cane and was practicing with it in the air for me to hear. Genuine fear began to creep into my chest and blood filled my cock in-spite of the fear induced by that horrible sound. The sounds would soon get worse.
She calmly explained that corporal punishment was a very important aspect of her training style and to prove that I could handle it I would need to count and thank her for every stroke. It was also at this shivering moment that she changed our dynamic forever by demanding that I address her as "my Queen" and she would henceforth call me her "Buttercup."
After delivering twenty merciless blows on my poor, virginal, white ass, she unlocked the pillory stock and ordered me to rise. My butt stung so bad that my muscles were spasming, and my cock had shrunk to its smallest, cold-swimming-pool size.
My Queen looked me up and down admiringly for a long cold moment while making up her mind about something. She began to step a circle around me checking out my naked welted body from all angles. She still swished the can through the air like as if ghost fencing; and I winced a little at the sounds. The pink panties framed my twenty burning welts like a humiliating personalized insult written on a bathroom-stall door. I just stood there: pathetic, humiliated, and confused - totally dependent on her to decide what would happen to me next. Whatever she wanted to do, I already knew I would submit.
She stepped to face me and then stuck her thumbs in my pink waist band and pulled them down roughly past my knocking knees. She ordered me to stay just like that.
Next she flicked her finger against my shrunken cock and let out a little giggle. "Don't get erect!" she said amused, "Now I know that all I have to do to shrink your manhood is to give you twenty good ones with a cane- this is useful information."
