Her "first Scene" Fantasy

A lovely young lady recently shared a fantasy of hers with me...

"I'd like to go to your house and pretend we are meeting for the very first time. I know nothing about BDSM. You hand me a drink and we sit down to chat. We talk about general things like the weather and where we work.

"I am a little shy and standoffish. You want to fuck the shit out of me. You know with me being in the living room I would still have a chance to run so you come sit next to me to make me feel more comfortable. You ask me how I'm feeling as you gently run your fingers over my thigh. I cringe, not knowing what to think. I'm scared of you, slightly turning my head and body away. You move your hand up over my arm and caress my neck, gently brushing my hair over my shoulder. You lean close to my ear and seductively tell me how beautiful I am and that you would never hurt me. I can feel your breath on my neck and I begin to pant in fear.

"You tenderly take my hand in yours and say you have something to show me and stand up to lead me out of the living room. I am reluctant to follow, wanting to get out of your grasp--to leave completely and never see your face again. But I follow, wanting to be a good guest and accept your hospitality. I avoid eye contact with you even though I can feel the weight of your seductive stare leaving me to feel completely exposed and filthy.

"You lead me through an open door into complete darkness. The smell of leather and insence invade my senses leaving me chilled with fear. I can hardly breathe and my palm is beginning to sweat in yours. You notice I am uneasy and take my head in your hands reminding me you would never hurt me. You kiss my cheek gingerly. You tell me I'm a good girl and rub your thumb over my bottom lip making it quiver at your touch. I am overwhelmed with emotion. I want to believe that you won't hurt me...but I don't.

"I turn to run out of the dark room. You grab me tightly by my wrist and force me to the ground. You straddle my hips. Your smile has vanished and is now a sneer. You lean down to my face and gruffly begin to tell me how much of a whore I am. 'I'm going to show you what I do to dirty, fucking whores like you.'

"...you finish my fantasy."

So, here's how I finished it:

Unable to break free of my grasp and half paralyzed with fear, you squirm beneath me, turning your face to one side and shutting your eyes tightly. Despite this, you can still sense that my eyes are fixed on you.

"What are you going to do to me?" you ask, in a soft whimper.

I lean in close and whisper, "Whatever I fucking want to... and you're going to like it, because you're mine now." You feel the tip of my tongue gently glide along the outside of your ear.

Hearing me say this, you weakly kick your legs a few times, vainly trying to get me off of you. You wince and shudder, letting out a moan of helpless frustration. You want to get away, you want to tell me to stop what I'm doing, but something is holding you back. Sensing this, I begin to slowly grind my hips against yours. You can feel how hard I am already, and it makes you tremble.

"Look at me," I whisper. You turn your head the other way, keeping your eyes closed and saying nothing. I release your wrists and grab you by the throat. With a sudden gasp, you open your eyes and turn to face me. You grab my arm with both hands, but make no further effort to free yourself.

"I said, look at me." This time I speak louder, in a sterner tone. Your eyes meet mine, and you remain silent, hardly daring to breathe.

I stop moving my hips, and keeping my fingers grasped firmly around your neck, I slide my other hand down under the front of your jeans. Moving slowly, I'm pleasantly surprised to discover... "You're not wearing any panties. And you shaved that pussy just for me, didn't you?" I continue to hold your gaze. You don't answer, but you begin to tremble more intensely. I let my fingers run over your clit and down your pussy lips, already wet. Your eyes open wider and your eyebrows arch up slowly, and as you gasp once again, your fingers tighten around my arm, still holding you down. With a sly grin, I say, "I knew, deep down, that you were a dirty little slut."

"Please..." you begin to protest, but before you can say another word, I ask:

"Who do you belong to?"

You look incredulously into my eyes, and after a moment's hesitation, you begin to stammer an incoherent reply. Several thoughts flash through your mind in one instant... you wonder how you allowed yourself to get into this situation; you want to get away, to run; you wonder what I have in store for you, and it fills you with fear; you wonder why, despite the fact that you're telling yourself you want to get out of here, you're no longer trying to do so at all; and you can't remember the last time you were so turned on... all of these thoughts come and go in a matter of seconds. The last thought startles you greatly. But, there's no denying it: terrified as you are, you want to give in.

Your thoughts are suddenly cut short by a sharp slap across your face. Your reaction is minimal; you flinch upon being hit, and after a moment a tear rolls down from the corner of your eye, but you're surprised to find that you like it. Grabbing your throat once again, I say, in a demanding tone, "Answer me, you fucking whore. Tell me who you belong to." With my other hand still down your pants, I slide a finger inside you.

Your head tilts back involuntarily, and your eyes close as you heave a deep sigh. You let go of my me, and your arms slump down above your head in a gesture of willful resignation. Slowly your eyes open, and look into mine once more. Finally, in a breathless whisper, you say:

"I belong to you... sir."

Again, you've surprised yourself; you're not entirely certain why you referred to me as such, but it felt like the right thing to say. I take my finger out of your pussy and put it in your mouth, making you taste yourself. You've never tasted it before, but your eyes blissfully close as you suck on my finger, enjoying the sweetness.

Smiling, I say, "Good girl... what a good little slut you are. You want to please me, don't you?"

With the tip of my finger on your lips, you answer, "Yes, sir."

I get to my feet, grab a handful of your hair and pull. "Stand up," I order. You comply meekly, standing up slowly as I lead you by the hair, not taking your eyes off me. Once you've stood up, I tell you to stay where you are, and I take a few steps back.

Even in the dark room into which I've led you, you can tell that I'm staring at you, and you get that feeling of being filthy once again. Only this time, you're enjoying it... you love feeling like an object, a toy for the pleasure of another. You love being so degraded, feeling so worthless. You feel your fear giving way, very gradually, to anticipation.

"Get undressed for me, slut," I say. You hear a match being struck behind you, and I use it to light a candle in a corner of the room.

In the flickering glow of the candle, you're able to see the room for the first time: the walls are painted black, and there is only one small window high up in the wall across from the door, with a heavy shade drawn. The room is empty save for a bed with crimson, satin sheets below the window, and a large mirror built into the headboard, covering the wall. Adjacent to the bed, there is a small, polished oak table with an incense burner on top of it, and several other items laid out on it... a roll of black latex tape, a pair of steel handcuffs, a red ball gag, a black leather blindfold, and a black riding crop with a rubber keeper. In each corner of the room there is an ornate wooden sconce, each one holding a large red candle.

After lighting the first candle, I turn and notice that you're still standing where I left you, in the center of the room; and you're looking around but haven't begun to undress. I come up behind you and grab your hair again, more forcefully and sudden this time, causing you to gasp again. "Do as I say. Now," I tell you in a low, warning voice, my teeth clenched.

Hastily you reply, "Yes, sir," and begin pulling your jeans down with equal haste.

"Slowly. I want to watch you," I say in a gentler tone, pulling your head back.

You pause for a moment, and with a soft whisper of "Yes, sir," you continue undressing, slowly, as I ordered.

I let go, and as I circle the room to light the remaining three candles, I look over at you... admiring your beauty, your sumptuous curves... savoring the sight of you pulling your jeans down to your ankles, and gently kicking them away. I'm consumed with lust; I can hardly wait to have you at my mercy, and fuck you until you're senseless. I light the last candle as I watch you lift your blouse over your head, and then see you reach behind your back to undo your bra. But before you can, I quickly steal up behind you and grab your hands, giving you another start.

I place your right hand over your swollen clit, and your left hand I slip underneath your bra onto your right breast. You tense up a bit, but when you feel my breath on the left side of your neck and my lips on your ear, I notice you begin to relax. I unhook your bra.

"I want you to touch yourself for me," I say, softly.

You start to rub your clit and gently pinch your nipple, as you heave another sigh, this time one of hedonistic contentment. "Oh god... I've never felt like this before, sir," you confess, your voice wavering. "I'm scared..."

"You've nothing to be afraid of," I reply. "Just do as I say, be a good girl for me, and you'll be rewarded. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," you answer.

"Good. Now, turn around and face me." You comply without question, looking me square in the eye.

Then I say, "Get down on your knees. Keep looking at me, and don't stop touching yourself."

You obey once again, rubbing your clit as you do it, and run your other hand up your chest, over your cheek, and back down your body, over your hip and thigh. Soon your breathing becomes heavy, and you begin sliding two fingers into your quivering pussy. You look up at me, your eyes wide with a look of deference and expectation.

I begin to rub my cock over my jeans. "You want to be used, don't you... you just want me to use you and fuck you like the depraved slut you are... don't you, you worthless little whore?" I ask, without blinking or breaking my stare.

"Yes, sir."

"Tell me that's what you want. Let me hear you say it."

"Please sir, I want you to use me. I'm nothing but a worthless whore, and I need your cock inside me, please, sir..." A feeling of astonishment and excitement surges through you; you never thought you'd ever hear yourself talk like that or acquiesce the way you were to anyone, yet it was happening now, and you loved every minute of it.

"Good girl," I say again, walking over to the table and picking up the blindfold. Before you can say anything more, I place it over your eyes. You breathe a heavy sigh and touch yourself with even more vigor, building to a fever pitch. You can't take much more of this, and the sudden inability to see is driving you up the wall.

"I'm going to cum, I'm going to cum..." you start to exclaim. But I slap you again, and grab your throat.

"You don't ever cum, or do anything, unless I say you can. Understand?" As I speak last the word, I give you a shake.

"Yes, sir..." you reply, in a hoarse whisper. I loosen my grip, and you say, "Sir, may I cum? Please, sir, I need to cum, sir..."

Suddenly I remove the blindfold, and as you open your eyes you see that I've completely undressed, and am stroking my cock. Your eyes and mouth widen, and your eyebrows arch up again.

"Look at me, touching myself... you like this, don't you?" The sneering expression comes back over my face.

"Oh fuck, yes sir, I love watching you touch your cock... sir, please may I cum? I can't hold back any more. Please, sir!" Your entire body quivers as you struggle to stem the rising tide of ecstasy inside you, building to a head.

Finally, I assent. "Cum for me, baby. Cum hard for me."

Your quickening breath becomes loud moaning, and as it hits, you quake violently and nearly collapse, completely overcome with your release.

I catch you, keeping you from doubling over, and whisper "Good girl" in your ear, gently nipping your earlobe.

"Oh... thank you, sir... thank you so much for letting me cum, sir..." you manage to say at length, in between deep breaths.

I hold you, giving you a moment's respite and allowing you to compose yourself, before going back to the table to get something. You quickly find out what it is, as I grab your wrist, pull your hand behind your back and slap one of the handcuffs onto it, then cuff the other wrist.

When this is done I turn to stand in front of you, and speaking softly I say, "Are you ready for more? You'd better be; I'm not done with you yet. I've only just begun..."

You look up at me, with that endearing look of deference in your eyes, and with a slight grin you answer, "Yes, sir. Please use me any way you want."

I lean down and hold your chin between my thumb and forefinger. "Good girl," I say again, "that's just what I want to hear from you." I turn and pick up the blindfold, placing it back over your eyes and obscuring your vision again. Your breathing is deep, but calm. I can almost feel the anticipation for whatever will come next building up within you.

I stand before you again, and taking my cock in my hand, I run the head of it down your cheek. You exhale sharply, and you feel more base and perverted than ever; the feeling is incredible.

"Oh, thank you, sir..." you moan.

"Mmmm, you like how this feels, don't you?" I turn your face to one side, and begin to slap my cock against your cheek.

"Yes, sir... I love it..."

I turn your face towards me again and hold your jaw. "Open your mouth, and stick out your tongue." You do as I say without a word, and I let my cock run over your wet tongue.

This time it's my turn to heave a sigh... I only wish you could see how you look, handcuffed, blindfolded, kneeling helpless before me, licking my shaft like some wanton slut who lives only to please, and will do anything to that end.

Then, without warning I grab the back of your head with both hands and shove my cock all the way in, and begin thrusting violently, your face slamming into the bottom of my torso. You tense up with the sudden jolt, and would have cried out if my dick wasn't being forced in your mouth so. With each thrust in you gag, and the saliva begins to froth and run down from the corners of your mouth. After a minute or so I thrust in and firmly hold your head in place, making you take it all the way in and keep it there.

I feel your head begin to shake and hear a few muffled gags, and as you cough I take my cock out again. Your spit dribbles down, and you swallow and gasp, trying to catch your breath. I slap my cock, rigid and dripping wet, against your cheek again, and tell you what a good whore you are.

"Thank you, sir," you say, sounding as someone does who has just surfaced from under deep water. "Please fuck my mouth some more, sir. I want to be a good fucktoy for you." I see a few tears flow down from underneath the blindfold, causing your makeup to run.

Rhetorically I ask, "Are you crying? I'll give you a reason to cry, you fucking cunt."

With a rush of uncertainty, you start to say, "Sir...?"

But I don't allow you to finish. "Stand up," I snap, grabbing your hair and yanking upwards, forcing you back on your feet. I reach over to the table and your hear me snatch something, but can't tell what it is.

"Sir, you said you wouldn't hurt--"

A round, rubber object is jammed between your teeth, and leather straps protruding from the sides of the object are wrapped around your face and quickly fastened behind your head.

"Shut the fuck up, you slut. Now, get over here." With that, I pull your hair and lead you over to the bed. I stop to unlock your handcuffs, toss them on the bed, and then throw you face first onto the bed as well.

You let out a muffled yelp from behind the ball gag, as you catch yourself from hitting your face on the bed with both arms. You're more than a little shocked by this abrupt change in my demeanor, and a feeling of terror begins to slowly creep over your once more. Only this time, with the fear comes more anticipation...

It makes your thoughts conflict in a flash just as they did before: is this a hidden desire you've had, and if so, for how long? Is this what you've wanted, to relinquish all control, to be treated like some sick plaything for someone else's pleasure; one who would come along, see it in you before you yourself were aware of it, and force it out of you? Well, whatever the reason, despite your crying and your helpless fear, it feels right. It seems as though you feel more complete, that it makes you whole.

"Get on all fours."

The sudden order brings you back into the room, and you get up on your knees and elbows. You hear something being lifted off the table, followed by a sound not unlike a length of duct tape being stretched out from the roll. The sound sends a shiver down your back. If only you could see what I was doing, but you can't. It's driving you crazy.

You feel a band of thin material being stretched tightly around your ankles. The tape is wound around a few more times, then cut, and you feel my hand smooth it out. Next, the tape is bound around your thighs, just above the knees. You then hear a familiar clinking sound, and kneeling down beside your arms, I put the cuffs back on you. You're a little scared, but nevertheless, you feel somehow safe. You wait anxiously for whatever is coming next.

Once again you hear me take something off the wooden table by the bed, and quickly you try to remember everything you saw laid out there before being deprived of sight... when you feel something smooth run up the back of your thigh, over your ass and up between your shoulder blades. You let out a long, low, pathetic whimper.

After a moment it is placed under your nose, and I lean in close and whisper, "Do you smell this?" You smell a scent of rubber, and I continue, "You're going to feel it in just a second. Then you'll have a reason to cry, you fucking bitch."

I stand at the edge of the bed beside you, and as your whimper grows louder, I start to pat the crop against your ass, almost playfully, first one side and then the other. You begin trembling again; you know what's coming, and that's its going to be painful. But still, you wait. The patting gets harder.

All of a sudden, with a hard lash near the outer lips of your pussy, the crop strikes. You cry out in agony, but your cry is mostly silenced by the gag in your mouth. Then, another stinging blow on the other side, followed by another, then another still. The tears flow even heavier now, and then you feel a sharp contrast to the brutal sting of the crop as my hand caresses you, right where I'd been hitting you.

"Good girl," I say in a gentle but condescending tone, almost as if I were addressing a pet or a small child. "That's a very good girl. Do you like this?"

To your surprise, you find yourself trying to answer "Yes, sir" from behind the gag, but you can barely be heard.

I expected this reaction from you, and giving you another sharp flick of the crop onto your back, I clench my teeth and murmur, "Louder, you fucking whore. I can't hear you."

"Yes, sir!" you scream. A paroxysm of mixed emotions, mostly frustration and unrestrained pleasure, washes over you.

"You want more?"

"Yes! Thank you, sir!" you cry.

The next several moments - they could be minutes or hours - seem to pass in a haze of agonizing rapture. You can still feel the rubber crop each time it hits you, you can feel red welts forming... but it's wonderful. You're discovering things about yourself that amaze you. You love the pain, the humiliation... it makes you hungry for more.