The Story of L: Boy Meets Slave

This is a follow-up to my Linda In The Darkroom. Please click my name above to read that story from my story list.

I've mentioned in my first story about Linda that she was by far my first sexual teacher. This made the role reversal she had in mind that afternoon even more interesting -- and exciting.

Linda lived in a large Victorian house that was way too big for one person. Because it was winter, there were bedrooms that were shuttered to conserve heat, and we were in her oven-warmed, cramped kitchen, sitting at the table and drinking coffee, having just finished a quiche for two she had skillfully made in a specialized cast iron skillet. Mostly, we were trying not to admit that we didn't want to chat as much as fuck. I had twice before in the last two weeks followed her upstairs to her bedroom and had slow, wonderful sex with her.

But this time she led me up the stairs and directed me past the master bedroom to a room at the top of what I had assumed were attic stairs. The room had a conventional door, though, one that she used a key to unlock (pretty odd since she lived alone). Stepping inside I saw that it had a slanted ceiling and a dormer. Its window provided the only light, shining through the bland white curtain. This was a very nondescript guest bedroom, but with no bed.

Being an overcast winter Sunday afternoon, the grey daylight illuminated a room plainly wallpapered and containing stacks of cardboard boxes along one wall, a big wooden trunk, a table with many candles, and along the opposite wall, what looked by its shape to be a sawhorse covered in an old bed sheet.

Linda removed the sheet as she said she wanted to show something that got her more excited than "just about anything else in the world," and that she hoped I wouldn't judge her harshly (as if I could, considering my recent, and sudden, sexual good fortune!).

I should have been more prepared for what she unveiled. It was a heavy, dark, wood and leather restraining device, complete with holsters and silver rings where things could be clipped and tied. It suddenly hit me that the room was being warmed by an electric space heater -- warmed for the play she was hoping would take place.

She said that she hoped I might someday feel comfortable strapping her to it and punishing her for being such a bad person. Since we had talked playfully before about S&M (always a topic initiated by her) she know it wasn't a particular kink for me. And I knew she liked the mix of pain and pleasure that a careful bite can inflict. But now she was telling me that there are benefits for those who like to play along.

As though to demonstrate, she slid to her knees and bowed at my feet. This was starting to freak me out, especially since she was so strong and assertive in the classroom and in our budding friendship. Without raising her head, she asked me to grip her hair. Speaking to me feet, she said "Take my hair hard and make me suck you."

This was especially surprising since, with all the oral sex that I performed on her, she hadn't yet leaned over once to suck me. I had assumed it wasn't her thing. She had, the last time we were in her bed, grabbed and stroked my cock for a long time as I laid, spoon-like, behind her. As she did, she'd hinted at coming attractions, by rubbing the head of my cock seductively against her puckered asshole, before guiding me into her wet pussy. She repositioned my cock so I could slide into her pussy, but not before she said, in her most assertive but tender voice, "Soon." I knew that my first anal fuck would be with Linda. The thought made me giddy.

Now my fingers of one hand were entwined in her short brown hair and I was lifting her face to the fly of my jeans. She unbuckled me and pulled my pants down with my underwear in one motion. I let go of her hair, but she took both hands now and placed them on the sides of her head.

She looked up at me, inches from my cock, with a desperate expression. She was trembling slightly. "Make me. Don't let me stop." Then, by way of demonstration, she opened her pretty mouth wide, and, extending her tongue, took two of her own fingers and moved them down her throat until it was clear that a "normal" woman would be retching. Instead, there was nothing but a slight watering of her eyes, which were fixed on mine as though it was up to me to save her life.

Some guys would have thought the prospect of deep throat would be a dream come true, but I was less thrilled at the prospect. I had seen Deep Throat, of course, and I was amazed at the ability of a woman to overcome their gag reflexes, but the dominance symbolism really didn't turn my crank. Now was my chance to see if there was something there I couldn't have anticipated.

There was.

I knew she wanted me to be rough, so I took her and guided her with some force onto my cock, all the way. As she promised, she took me to the hilt, and, by way of guiding me, she held my buttocks so she was lingering there, unable to breath. To my surprise, the sensation was incredible. Her throat was constricting slightly over the head of my cock, and her tongue was licking the underside of my cock and balls.

I released her to allow some air, then began a slow fuck of her mouth. A recently published sexual memoir, called The Surrender, mentions that taking a man deep makes the blowjob particularly wet. I couldn't have known that at time time, but experienced it then with Linda. This was by far the sloppiest blowjob I'd ever experienced, and that too was more intense than I could have imagined.

The slick, wet, warm motion brought me to a huge climax. My load shot deep into her throat, and the spasms caused me to jackknife over her and nearly fall. When it was over, I noticed her thick saliva had literally flowed off of my balls in a sheet, spilling onto my crumpled pants and making a small pool on the hardwood floor next to them.

As I sat down, recovering in the corner, literally reeling from the orgasm, I noticed I was on the wooden trunk. I was trying not to look so blown away by the experience, and was busying myself, taking my pants off over my stocking feet.

Linda was stripping as well. She was explaining that her ex-husband had "trained her" to take his cock in any fashion he wanted, including orally. To demonstrate, she climbed onto the restraining table, and she leaned back on it to show how her head would be the lowest part of her body when she was in that position. Similar to someone laying back on their bed, where only their head is unsupported and is flopped back, she showed how it straightened her throat and made it more of a target for rough fucking.

I had suspected over the weeks that Linda might be into some mild S&M play. I had no idea.

But Linda was also disarmingly sincere and, now that I had "claimed" her throat, unapologetic. I was still a little knocked off-balance, though, and I explained to her that I'd feel better if we took things slowly. "How did you and your husband start out with this play?"

She told me a story that was incredibly exciting. He was working in his family's furniture store while he was studying pre-med, and he had taken her there one night after hours. The story she told really warrants another story until itself (stop back at my blog to learn when it is released), so I will fast-forward to the end, where she said she realized at the end of that BSDM session that she needed this play to have a truly complete sexual release.

I of course asked if she went in for the whips and spankings that come with being tied up as well. With that, she asked me to look in the trunk. When I looked I saw it was quite a toy chest!

It had whips, a paddle, and a large fishing tackle box (I shuddered at the sight of it, but she saw my expression and explained she isn't into piercing or anything that can leave a mark). When I opened that tackle box, I found some very puzzling "toys." Lots of lengths of surgical grade tubing. And many heavy-duty hemostats -- scissors-like medical implements which are used to secure tubing with a click, and otherwise hold items in their vice-grip like jaws.

Finding something a little less violent looking, I pulled out a medium- sized butt plug.

"Want to try it on?" she said playfully. I said I'd prefer she model it for me. We agreed to take the tackle box to the bedroom, which I suspected (and I was correct) would make me feel more at ease with the direction our afternoon was taking.

Once there, she handed me the plug and a tube of K-Y. "You've got to lube the whole shaft. Use a lot." As I did that, she took a dollop and inserted a couple of fingers in her ass. She talked about her ex making her wear a butt plug as an extended form of foreplay, and the general reason for them. "There are two rings in the ass," she explained, and she had me slide a finger in to feel them both, one right at the entrance, and another one deeper, at about the second knuckle or so.

"The outer one is one we can control. But the inner ring has a mind of its own. It's the butt plug's job to tell it who's boss." I felt her inner ring loosening already, but she nonetheless guided my other hand, with the plug, over to her pale, shapely buttocks. She was kneeling and bending forward on the bed, and as she pressed her head sideways on the bedspread, I saw that she was enjoying every moment of me taking control.

I moved the plug into place and by centimeters pushed it home. At a key point, the widest part was past her inner ring and her asshole drew the plug into place. I took a moment to admire the exquisite ass she was presenting to me. I especially noticed how wet her brown bush and pink lips were, half-hidden by the base of the plug. I leaned forward and licked the nectar from her swollen clit.

She rolled over onto her back and spread her legs wide, so I could get better access to her amazing pussy. The complex folds of her lips were intoxicating. Like a fragrant walk through a labyrinth garden, I found every variation of her vulva a further invitation to lick and suck.

I quickly brought her to her first orgasm of the day. But instead of us continuing then, she told me to wait while she got "fully dressed." Since she was naked, I was a little puzzled. I was also hard again, and ready to fuck her right away.

She came back with my clothes and hers. Taking a cue from her, I dressed along with her. She wiggled into her underwear, which had a slight bulge because of the butt plug still firmly in place. Then her jeans. When I next looked up, after putting on my own shirt and pants, I saw she was on her hands and knees again. Next to her was (will the afternoon's surprises never cease) a dog collar and leash.

Oh my.

I led her back down to the kitchen by her leash, now clipped to the collar around her neck. Interestingly, I immediately knew what she needed. Before holding the leash, I was following her instructions. With it in hand, I was the master. I led her to the living room (sheer blinds drawn, thank God!) and told her what album I wanted her to play. I told her the song track I wanted her to set the needle onto, and then instructed her to dance for me. Who knew a leash in hand can transform a sexual neophyte into a dominant master!

She danced seductively for the duration of the song, being careful, I now realized, to avert her gaze, even when I was talking to her and expected a reply. She was completely submissive to me.

I asked her if she had any photographs of her tied up. She wordlessly went to the bookshelf, and, pulling down a thick collection of short stories (something innocuous like a Willa Cather collection). She opened it and spilled out a half dozen Polaroids. I looked them over with growing excitement.

The colors of the photos seemed hyper-real and vivid. Or maybe it was the way the colored bedspread framed her pale skin. She was spread eagle on the brass bed we had just left, completely naked and blindfolded. Her wrists and ankles were fastened to the rails of the bed frame with that surgical tubing, clipped together with the hemostats. Clever. And almost unbearably sexy.

In the last two shots, she was face down, now with both of her wrists bound together and attached to one post at the head of the bed, and the other two ankles spread severely. In her ass was the base of a blue object (another butt plug?) and her back and buttocks were cross-hatched with red whip-marks.

Right then I wanted nothing more than to replace that butt plug with my throbbing cock. I looked up at Linda, who was still bowing, and I told her she was a pig for letting her husband do that to her. She needed to be disciplined. (Bizarre logic, but what the heck. She loved it).

We were soon back upstairs, where I was mastering the art of binding a petite woman to a large bed with medical equipment.

I started with her face up so I could slowly tease her nipples and breasts. Then I tortured her for a while with feather-light licks to her wet, exposed clit.

Finally, I flipped her over and re-fastened her, so I could slowly pull out her butt toy. I knew enough to lube myself before slowly sliding into her tight hole. I sure it was just that she was so ready for me, but she seemed to receive me with the same inward-pulling force I had seen when the plug was inserted. I was soon pounding her ass fiercely.

She moaned and grunted gutturally into the bedspread, and, although I never thought I'd allow myself to get into spanking, I knew she wanted it, so I added the sting of my hand to the thrust of my cock. By the time I exploded into her ass, her right buttock glowing red. Linda was biting the bedspread to help muffle her screams of pleasure as she convulsively orgasmed. The spasms from her ass milked my cock dry.