So I have decided to share a story that I have been writing for my IRL Mistress, who is indeed Norwegian. The story is a blend of experiences, fantasy and fiction, and flows from my fingertips when I am in a creative mood. The results are this raw and unedited part 1, with a few more parts to come if I get the courage to post them at a later date. I was going to post this in non-consent/reluctance, but future parts are more BDSM so I guess we might cross a few boundaries!
All acts are 100% consensual and all players are 18+
So here I find myself, alone at a rather non-descript motel bar, an espresso martini in one hand, the other nervously fiddling with my phone. In front of me is a room key, a swipe card in its little white paper envelope, with the world "Airport Pullman" embossed on it. But there is more... in neat blue ball point pen someone has written words that I am unsuccessfully trying to get translated by Google..."Himmelen venter på den som våger å åpne denne døren".
I truly have no idea, so I turn to scrolling Facebook to hide my nervous excitement until my phone startles me with a loud beep... the beep that signals my summons, the beep that I have been awaiting ever since my Goddess swept through the foyer like a Norweigan styrma, pausing just long enough to hand me the aforementioned room key before moving on, a vision of beauty in a tight leather skirt, black jacket with just a glimpse of a metal buckle beneath... knowing what that buckle is attached to immediately makes mind race back to past rendezvous, past times where we had shared precious moments.
I gather myself, and take a deep breath, moving slowly to the elevator, trying not to appear too eager to the dozen or so other patrons... surely they must be wondering the circumstances of the meeting that they just witnessed, but I am beyond caring, my mistress awaits.
The elevator feels like it takes forever, the music frustrates me.. Id rather wait silence so I can better gather my thoughts and be prepared to follow mistress's instructions... the same instructions that she has started all of our meetings with.
Let myself in, shoes off, on my hands and knees crawl to where she waits, and kneel patiently at her feet, awaiting further instruction. Sometimes her next order comes quickly... other times she makes me wait, my heart pounding furiously in nervous anticipation.
I walk quickly now, room 415, just to the left of the elevator. I swipe my card and open the door, expecting to see mistress in her normal position in a chair at the other end of the room, but she is nowhere to be seen as the door clicks shut behind me. I realise this must be a test, so I must follow my previous instructions, removing my shoes and placing them neatly next to the door, and start to crouch down to crawl.
Suddenly the bathroom door beside me bursts open, and I am slammed into the opposite wall of the entryway, my breath knocked out of me and momentarily stunned by the force of the blow, not really realising or understanding what has just happened, only fully comprehending when you grab my hand and cuff it to a hook high on the wall. I struggle, this is not what we agreed to, and I try in vain to push you away so we can discuss the plan that we had devised for this session, but you use your full strength to force me against the wall and restrain my other hand, so that both of my arms are pinned over my head.
I turn my head to look at you, confusion in my eyes... but all I see in yours is pure lust as you flick open an old style cut throat razor, and theatrically lick the back of the blade, not speaking a word.
You move behind me, where I can no longer see you and my anxiety rises, we have never spoken about blood sports but what else could she possibly want with such a tool?
I feel the cold steel on the small of my back as you slip the razor under my shirt and slide up, neatly slicing the shirt off my back in one smooth movement. From the corner of my eye I see you step back, admiring your handiwork before you return, kneeling behind me, starting at my right ankle, slicing the leg of my pants open, all the way up to the beltline, repeating the motion on the left leg before joining the 2 cuts across my buttocks, turning my pants into rags that would fall to the ground if not still hanging from my belt. I feel you step away and stand... I am still confused what you are doing but it becomes obvious when I feel the tip of what I assume is your Big Black cock forcing its way between my cheeks, guided by one hand as your other holds me pinned against the wall. I try to speak and you hiss, "shut up Slave, you are mine". I try to wriggle away from you but the bonds and your hold are too strong, the tip of BBC lodges between my cheeks in spite of my best efforts to stop you.
I continue my struggle to escape as you push harder.....begging you to stop... but I do not use the safe word so you force the tip hard against my tight little hole. I lift up on my toes, finally realising what you are planning to do, but still trying to not have my poor little asshole raped.
You slap my ass hard... "hold still bitch", but I continue my struggle as you hold BBC in one hand and my hip in the other, pulling yourself into me as you use your body strength to hold me immobile against the wall. Suddenly the tip pops in, sending a burst of pain through me as my ass is forced to accept you, my legs buckling a little.
