Disclosure, this is a graphically written story about BDMS, unwanted bondage, and an American soldier traits. It deals with bondage and unwanted penetration. If any of this might offend please find a different story to read. Please feel free to leave constructive criticism has this is my first attempt at anything like this. Thanks and I hope you enjoy.
Has I brush my hair in the mirror, I wonder ideally how it came to this. I had thought myself so normal. Sure I had dated and done things with guys but for some reason it never elicited the response I thought it would from my body. I glance guiltily in the mirror and see the faint glow of the screen on my laptop on the nightstand. I sigh in anticipation of getting back to what I was reading, but has always my OCD and obsessive counting could not be ignored. My hair had to be brushed exactly sixty-four times. I have a horrible habit of counting in fours and everything has to be divisible by four.
I decide to focus on the feeling of my brush running through my long blonde hair. The bristles gently scratch my scalp and I feel a slight flush thrum through my body. The feelings are so alien to me that I am still having a hard time coping. The things I found today while surfing the web were so startling and at first I was appalled. However the more I read about BDSM and researched it, the more I felt drawn to it. The control, the pleasure, the pain, and the meticulous planning and steps involved called to me.
Like a drug addicted I was drawn to it and I knew part of it had to do with the fact that it pulled on my Obsessive Compulsive Disorder and counting. Like long lost lovers finding each other again, I was insatiable to learn everything I could. I had been researching for six hours now and my report due for my job on global hardships had been neglected. I sigh in pleasure has my hairbrush tugs my hair slightly. My nipples harden and I frown. How very odd? I shake my head and realize I have placed my brush exactly one inch from my comb on the right side of my makeup desk. I must have reached sixty-four.
I glance at my computer screen longingly again in the mirror and sigh realizing it will have to wait till morning. My schedule composes of me going to the bathroom and brushing my teeth for four minutes exactly. Then I have to make sure I brush each surface sixteen times or I just don't feel clean.
I go through the steps on auto pilot, and my mind is rushing with all that it's absorbed today. I had just planned on researching some hentai porn. this was my usual routine on Saturday which consisted of me time from two to three PM. Personal time consisted of searching the internet, my vibrator, and then back to work. I had been through most of the links listed and my time was running short when I saw a small link title BDSM fetish. I love acronyms and this one was composed of only four letters. My favorite number is four.
As I clicked the link the screen became filled with spam linking to tons of sites. Images of men tied up in intricate contraptions and females tied in ropes were everywhere. One pop up boasted "Dominate is always in control of everything". I liked control and for some reason the images had made me hot. That was always a plus. What I saw on the site had shocked me so and had thrown me off.
Normally it would be work on my paper three to five pm, and then I would cook dinner and have it ready by six pm with a nice glass of wine. Instead I found myself engrossed in what I was doing and I was startled has my watch chimed that it was eight pm. I had felt that anxious feeling of dread at not following my usual pattern I got, but strangely the pull of the research was stronger. Instead of my usual dinner and a glass of wine, I had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I spit out the minty toothpaste and proceed to swish the mouthwash around. I keep this in for two minutes, just to make it even.
I wander to my bed and pull the covers back tucking myself in making sure my feet are covered and folded in the blanket in fours. My laptop glares at me temptingly from the nightstand, but I sigh and try to close my eyes. My mind reasons that after all my day starts at four am. A tool ingrained in me from my time in the Army. Exactly eight hours of sleep. After a few minutes I feel sleep pulling at me and I drift into it willingly trying to maintain my routine.
I glance around in confusion. I am in a small room covered in black. Lights in small cones are the only source of illumination, and I realize my body feels deliciously sensual. I glance to the right and of course a full length mirror stands four inches away. I am shocked and immediately feel myself get wet at what I see. I am five foot seven inches tall with long blonde hair to my shoulders and hazel eyes. I am a nice 145 lbs and have cushion in all the right spots. What startles me is not my body, but what I am wearing.
I am poured into a leather body suit. It's black and shiny with strips of red down the arms. A red trim continues down the middle of both sides and down my thighs. The material is so tight that it looks like I was poured into it. My feet are encased in eight inch stiletto boots that lace up to below my knee. Quickly I count the straps and sigh has the number on one is an even thirty-two. Thirty-two plus thirty-two equals sixty-four. The material of the suit flatters my hips and stomach and a deep plunger is present between my breasts. OH lord look at my breasts! The 36 DD's stretch against the material and threaten to pop out. My nails and lips are done in red and my eyes are done up in dark eye shadow and long lashes.
I look like a dark, sexy mistress and instantly become more aroused. I feel wetness on my thighs and only then do I realize that the outfit must be crotch less. I run my hand between my legs and marvel at how wet I am. I can't remember ever being this wet before. I moan as I slid a finger inside of me testing the waters of my arousal. I moan has a deep hot coil of pleasure thrums through my body and awakens my sense. I hear a deep husky voice order me to the ground and I realize two things instantly. One, this must be a dreams since I have no memory of coming here and two, I am not the Dom has I thought I was, but the submissive.
"I said get on all fours slave."
The voice is cold and firm but with an undercurrent of authority that makes me obediently get on all fours before I realize what I am doing.
"What do you think you were doing slave?"
I am too shocked to respond by how real this dream feels and suddenly I feel a sharp bite across my back through the leather bodysuit. Did he just whip me? My mind screams at me to be angry that I would let any man control me so, but my body surprises me by flushing further. I feel my nipples harden and being confined by the leather body suit they painfully rub against it. I respond in a breathy whisper.
"I was admiring myself and touching myself."
I feel another painful bite and this time the sting rides deeper but so does the pleasure. I moan in abandon.
"I was admiring myself and touching myself what?"
I search my mind for an answer. How do I respond? I feel another sting of pleasure and the word leaps from my mouth has I feel more of my juices drip down my thigh.
"Master." "Good. Don't forget it slave or I'll really punish you." "How will you punish me master?"
I am shocked by my quick response. Normally if any man is talking to me like this or even hinting at dominating me, he would be brought to the ground by some of my fancy Unarmed Combat Training. The Warrior Ethos is so ingrained in me that I find myself mentally repeating them. "I will never accept defeat, I will never quit, and I will never leave a fallen comrade" the rest of the words are washed away as I suddenly feel a finger probe deep inside me. I gasp and moan has my body explodes with sensations. My master has very long thick fingers and he wastes no time in increasing the number to two then three and then that magical number of four. Thrusting into me fast and hard he stretches me. Pain lances through my body. My normal limit is two fingers. Beneath the pain is an undercurrent of deep dark pleasure and I feel my body coiling.
My breathings shallow and I have started shaking. The pressure is building and I know any second I will shatter into one of the best orgasm's I have ever had. A fast thwacking sound has arisen and I realize it's the sound of him thrusting his hand into me and my answering wetness greedily absorbing him. Just when I am about to explode he withdraws his hand and stops. I howl in anguish and surprise has he wraps his hand around my hair and painfully yanks me to my knees.
"Let me show you the limits of pain and pleasure slave. You don't get to cum till I tell you to. If you disobey me I shall whip, flog, or fuck you with my hand till you are on the verge of Cumming, then I will stop altogether. Do you understand?"
"Yes master."
The word sounds foreign and alien on my tongue and his voice is still firm but with a slight undercurrent of heat. Still holding me by my hair wrapped around his hand, I am helplessly pulled along to a weird looking stand in the middle of the room. There is an obstacle exactly like a pull-up bar, however two metal loops are present where the feet posts normally are to mount and dismount the pull up obstacle. In the middle on the ground is a post with some weird machine on it. It looks like a fake dildo attached to some sort of mechanical piston device.
Placing me under the obstacle I have to spread my legs to avoid hitting the weird mechanical device. I feel his hands on my hips has he hoists me into the air. Instinctively I grab the pull up bar and lift myself up bringing my chin above the bar. I flush with pleasure has I hear impressiveness in his voice.
