There's Always a First Time

I had a fairly normal girlhood: The usual interest in ponies, Barbie, and eventually boys. I’m blonde with 34C breasts, and I soon found out that most men wanted that “one thing”. I gave up my less-than-prized virginity in the back seat of a Chevy belonging to a guy called Danny Cabrello. I remember that he was gentle and attentive, but determined. At some point I got scared, my mouth opened to tell him no. He was licking and biting my nipples, which were hard and aching like they’d never been before. At the moment I worked up the nerve to say the word, he looked up and his eyes met mine. In those eyes was something dark, something more than a little scary. His voice was husky as he looked at me and said:

“You can stop this any time. But you have to say

stop it please

. Understand?”

I was swept away by a rush of happiness, lust, and horniness—my pussy was so wet that when he finally pushed his cock in and popped my cherry there was very little pain. I was sore for a couple of days afterward, and I would find myself getting wet in class, and have to rush home at lunch to masturbate in safety.

Eventually the soreness wore off, and so did Danny. Eventually I broke up with him. I didn’t give any reason; I just felt deep down as though something was missing.

Danny was a real gentleman, and never told anyone that I’d let him fuck me. But I let other people fuck me who weren’t gentlemen. I found myself becoming a serious slut. Nothing ever satisfied me for long, though. I began to notice how I really liked men who were self-confident and took the upper hand in bed.

During the spring I turned eighteen, my parents went to Europe on vacation for a month. I was actually very good, mostly, but in the final week I had a huge house party.

At about four AM I was chasing the stragglers out the door when a boy I’d fucked back around February called Jesse cornered me in the hall. I was tired, and didn’t feel too interested, but he was pushy, insistent without being annoying or really threatening, although there was a real edge of menace in him. He pushed a hand under my blouse—I wasn’t wearing a bra.

“C’mon Carla,” he said “You’re hot; I’m hot—let’s just do it.”

He was bigger than I was, and I found his strength both scary and reassuring—if he wanted me badly enough there was nothing I could do about it. I certainly didn’t want to get raped, but I was wet at the thought of being manhandled, overpowered.

However it happened we were soon in an unoccupied bedroom. I broke away from him a moment, not quite knowing why, but deliberately teasing him. His brown eyes were smoky and almost glazed. He was raw with lust and I could see his hard cock outlined against his jeans.

“Take off your blouse,” he panted.

“Why don’t

you

take it off?” I wisecracked.

He didn’t bother replying, he just lunged at me. Somehow he got my hands pinned behind my back and pulled my blouse up over my head. Naturally since my hands were imprisoned, the blouse couldn’t come all the way off, and my arms were entangled and trapped. Jesse released my hands and unzipped my slacks, which fell to the floor. I stepped out of them. My hands were still pinned behind my back by the blouse and I realized something. I wasn’t fighting it any more.

When the realization hit me, my nipples grew hard and painful so that I gasped. I was helpless and nearly naked before a strong, confident, man who wanted me. And I loved it.

Jesse undid his shirt and took it off. I think nothing looks dumber than a guy wearing only his shirt, but a guy wearing nothing but jeans gets me soaking in seconds. Jesse didn’t speak, just dropped his pants and stood up, looking me in the eyes. I found myself going to my knees, kissing and licking the hard bulge in his underwear.

I kept my hands behind me as I gently took the elastic of his undershorts in my teeth and pulled them down. His cock sprang out and almost poked me in the eye. I tugged his underwear down below his balls and gave them a soft kiss. I looked up and saw Jesse, his eyes half closed, standing over me.

Standing over me

--even thinking the words made me hot.

His cock slid into my mouth like it had been built to go there. I could feel the soaked fabric of my panties sticking to my thigh as I sucked Jesse off. I slid up and down the hot length of him, making him moan when I flicked the tip of my tongue over the bulge just behind the head. His cock jumped and twitched when I did that, and soon I could feel it growing harder in my mouth. I waited until I thought he couldn’t hold it any more, and then slid my mouth right down to the base of his cock. I felt the first of his come hit the back of my throat, pressed harder into him, and opened wide to take his load. In my mind’s eye I could see myself, kneeling helpless, hands bound up in my blouse behind me, swallowing this man’s come.

I’d never felt so alive, or so horny.

At that moment the door swung open. I found out later that Danny had been giving a ride home to a friend who’d had too much to drink; now he was tired and looking for a place to crash.

There was nothing I could do. I was kneeling with my arms tangled behind me--try standing up sharply from that position--and the last spurts of Jesse’s come were dribbling from the corner of my mouth.

“Uh…Hi, man,” said Jesse, unsure of what to say or expect. But Danny wasn’t looking at him.

“You bitch,” he said woodenly “What the hell am I supposed to do?”

“I’m sorry Danny,” I gasped, I was flushing red and strangely enough, furiously horny. I didn’t know why I was apologizing--he had no claim on me, did he?

Danny looked at Jesse.

“I was the first,” he said “All damn winter long I’ve been hearing ‘Carla Evans is a slut, you can fuck her on the first date, or even

before

the first date’.”

I blushed deep red--that had been Lee Hartlem, a football player who’d “overcome” me in the living room. A mediocre fuck who’d had about the smallest penis and biggest mouth I’d ever had. But Danny was speaking to me now:

“…and all winter long I’ve been defending your slut ass. I’ve been saying ‘No, Carla’s not like that’. Guess the joke’s on me, huh?”

Suddenly he moved quickly to where I sat on my haunches and grabbed my hair.

“Is that it, Carla? Are you a slut? You want men to treat you like a whore?” He paused, then half-turned to where Jesse was pulling on his jeans and looking uncomfortable. I half-thought Jesse was about to say something, to stand up for me--but no.

“Jess,” said Danny “Can I get a little privacy here? Go have a beer or something, but stick around.”

Jesse mumbled something and went out. Danny knelt beside me and turned my head to face him by pulling my hair in his fist. It hurt--and I was horny and dripping. Danny stuck a hand between my legs--even through my panties his fingers came away slick and wet.

“That’s it, isn’t it,” he said wonderingly “the hard stuff turns you on, doesn’t it?”

When I didn’t answer he gave my head a shake and said:

“Doesn’t it, slut?” I wanted to say no. I thought I wanted to say no. I opened my mouth:

“Yes.”

“You know,” said Danny “I’ve loved you ever since I first took you out--you were special. But you didn’t want to stay with me and for six months I’ve wondered why--now I know. You wanted a man to possess you, make you his,” He stood up and released my hair. “Well now you’re gonna be mine.”

I made as if to struggle to my feet but he pushed me down. My pussy lips almost cramped with the sudden rush of blood flowing to them--I could feel what was coming and I wanted it. Oh God how I wanted it!

“Stay on the floor,” Danny directed me. “on your knees. That’s the right place for a little bitch, isn’t that right?”

“Yes.” I said quietly

“Yes what?”

“Yes Sir.” I gasped. My breathing was ragged, my chest felt heavy and tight, and I couldn’t draw a full breath. My tits were hot and full, swinging before me. I was loving every second of it.

“Not quite good enough, slut,” he replied “there’s something else you want to say, isn’t there?”

“Yes…Master.” I gasped. I wanted to come right there and then. My clitoris was a hard, demanding knob between my thighs, my pussy lips felt inflamed, and my nipples were hard as diamonds. A strange, buzzing, almost electrical feeling tingled around my asscheeks. I felt faint.

Danny seized my neck and kissed me hard, then he pulled the blouse off of my arms and yanked my panties down, cupping the pussy he’d stuck his fingers in earlier and pushing me onto all-fours. I couldn’t help but moan.

“You’re mine, do you understand? My slave girl, my slut. I will do to you and with you anything I please.”

“Oh, please,” I panted “make me come!”

“There’s no

me

.” he replied.

“Make your slave come, please Master!” I whined.

“Not quite yet, Carla,” Master said “first I’m going to collar you and name you, then I’m going to punish you,” I opened my mouth to protest and he laid one gentle finger across my lips “Be silent. I’m not going to punish you for being a slut. I’m going to punish you because I’ll enjoy it.

You

may not, but I think you will, and in any case you don’t have a choice.”

Master, as I was already thinking of Danny by then, pulled the belt from my pants on the floor. I had paid almost thirty dollars for that belt the previous summer. He pulled a pocket knife from His trousers (I had already started thinking of Him in capital letters) and cut the belt roughly in half. I opened my mouth to protest, but my eyes met His and I meekly bent my head to receive His gift. He poked a hole in the rough end and looped it about my neck.

“I want you to understand,” He said “You are not permitted to remove this collar without permission. You will not be dressed, nor will you go on two legs in my presence without my order. You will be freely available for my use at all times when we’re together or when I order you to be.” He paused and took a deep breath, “No matter how often I’ve thought of having you this way I’m new to this, and we will learn together. But you will obey or be punished, just as I’m going to punish you tonight.” He paused and gulped a little--I guess he was nervous. But he barely let it show.

“From now on I will call you slave sarah. You will keep a journal of all of your training, and the thoughts and feelings you have about your slavery each day. Do you understand Me, sarah?”

“Yes, my Master” I answered. In a moment it was done. The collar was buckled around my throat and I was a slave girl. I found myself touching my lips to his sneakers, kneeling on the carpet, and glorying in my new role. My pussy was soaked.

“sarah,” said Master gently “If you wish to leave this role you may remove this collar or simply tell me you wish to leave. If I am doing something which alarms you, you will tell me so very clearly by saying ‘Stop, please, Sir’. If you are not definite I won’t stop whatever I’m doing.”

Neither of us knew what a safe word was, and my new Master was trying to make my slavery overwhelming, yet safe for me. My belly pulsed with love and lust for Him. I knelt, His slut, utterly.

“Now I’m going to punish you.”

I began to protest, but he yanked me up to face him by my collar.

“Be silent, sarah. I will punish you as and when I choose and the more you bitch and whine, the worse your punishment will become.”

Master had a key chain attached to his belt. It was the retractable sort, about four feet long extended. He clipped this to my new collar.

“Go toward the corner of the room.” He ordered, pointing.

When my head was pointed into the corner and my ass sticking out I stopped and waited. I heard the rattle of his belt buckle and thrilled to think he might fuck me in this deliciously humiliating position.

Instead I cried out when the end of his belt whipped across my ass. I was able to take about seven strokes before I tried to push myself upright, but my Master seized me and forced me back to my knees, tugging on my collar.

“OhpleaseOhpleaseOhpleaseOhgodMaster please don’t--it hurts!” I cried.

“Of course it does, slave. And you will take it. You’ll be punished as I see fit, each and every time I see the need. Your punishment just went from twenty strokes to thirty. If you beg me again it’ll be fifty. If you need me to stop, you know what to say. Do you understand?”

The silence was long; the room seemed to fade around me, my hot pink ass burned almost as though with electricity. My cunt dripped. My nipples went hard again as I realized that I was powerless, or rather, that I had the power to end this at any time--‘Stop, please, Sir’--but was choosing not to.

“Master,” I asked, with a great hitch in my chest, after several long moments had passed by. “Pl--Please; please punish your slave.”

My Master gently repositioned me with my head in the corner. Then he proceeded to give me the first serious whipping I’d ever had. He was inexperienced, and sometimes the end of the belt cracked cruelly on my cunt, even on my clit, but somehow it was easier to accept, now that I understood that it was my decision to take it. I revelled in it, enjoyed the feeling of my skin getting hot and bruised under the whip. I’m not a masochist--I don’t get off on pain. But I’m a slave, and I love any attention I get from my Master, even if it hurts. Master was being hard with me, and it was what I wanted.

The room seemed to fade away and I found myself looking at the scene from outside myself. I saw a beautiful slave girl on her knees, her ass in the air and turning red as her Master applied His belt to her. It was my first trip into slave space, but not my last.

After some unknown time, Master asked me how many strokes I’d had. I felt guilty for not counting. He was sweaty. I could feel it when he brought his face by my ear, pulling me up onto my knees.

“In future you’ll count,” He ordered “and remind me next time that you’re due for ten extra for not counting this time. Oh, and I might not remember if you don’t remind me. But you don’t want to take that chance. Is that clear?” He turned my head in His hands and kissed me hard.

“Yes master--I’ll remind you to give me ten extra when you whip me,” I panted when we brioke apart. There were tears on my cheeks, but from pain, or love, or joy at finding this man I couldn’t tell. “May a slave beg her Master to fuck her?”

He sighed. “You’re such a slut. You really love this stuff, don’t you? Don’t beg me again. I’ll fuck you when I please. Right now I’m going to explore you.”

Master was very thorough. He had me stand up. First he looked at my head and my collared neck. He told me that I would wear only earrings he directed me to wear. He also said that he would have to arrange to get me other piercings as part of my training. My nipples, clitoris, navel, pussy lips...it was a long list.

“When I’m done with you, I’ll be able to stitch your slut cunt closed and put a padlock through your clit.” He said almost to Himself.

He strapped my tits a couple of times with the belt, holding a hand under my chin and forcing me to look up into His eyes while He brought the leather down and across my aching nipples. Every so often as He looked me over he’d slap me with the belt, sometimes gently, sometimes hard.

He made me bend over and spread my legs wide. His fingers fucked my throbbing pussy while he slapped my sore ass with His other hand. When I felt His thumb exploring my ass I pulled away.

Master spanked my bottom, hard. He pushed me into a kneeling position, then forced my forehead to the carpet. He gave me five hard smacks with the belt for resisting Him, then lubricated His thumb with my pussy juice and forced it slowly into my ass.

I’m sure it only took a few minutes, but those minutes were eternity. I’d never had anyone invade my asshole before. But Master knew me well. He rested the slippery thumb on my asshole, just applying a steady pressure. At first, my ass puckered tight against Him. He spoke to me in a soothing voice, as one speaks to a frightened animal, and gradually my anus relaxed. Gently and slowly, his insistent thumb entered me. And at some point I realized that if Master just touched my clit or pussy, I would very likely come.

At this moment, leashed to my Master’s belt, with His thumb firmly in my ass, and my pussy begging for His touch I realized how much I wanted this. I didn’t yet know if I wanted to be His slave “twenty-four and seven” (although I didn’t know the term then). I only knew that I wanted to belong to Him like this whenever we were together, doing whatever he wanted.

At that moment, Master entered me. His thumb in my ass, His marks on my ass, belly and tits, and His cock in my pussy all combined and I could feel myself start to come. The hard little knot grew in my belly until, with my tits swinging back and forth, rug burns on my knees and elbows, and whip marks from the belt across my ass I felt the little waves that grew into a sweeping orgasm.

As my pussy started to contract my Master rode me like the slave I was. His fucking got harder and faster so that only seconds after my climax he was ready for his. I felt His cock jump inside of me, and He nipped the back of my neck in his teeth as he came.

Master pulled out of me, and I realized as I saw his cock that he’d been kind enough to put a condom on. I felt warm and good, looked after and enslaved by a strong, considerate Master. Master tugged the condom off and ordered me to lick his cock clean. The condom had been fruit-flavoured, and a slightly chemical strawberry taste filled my mouth, mixing with his come.

Master looked at his watch. It was almost six-thirty A.M. I was a mess. My makeup had run, my clothes lay in a heap, my hair was a rat’s nest, and my body was marked from whipping.

“Go clean up,” said Master, motioning to the ensuite bathroom. When I tried to close the door he held it open. I understood--the slave has no privacy. I sat on the toilet while he stood only a few feet away, and peed. Then I got up, wiped myself, and washed my hands and face. Then I took a hairbrush and rearranged my hair properly.

When I was done, Master inspected me again. He had found my panties on the floor, and had put them in His pocket.

“You’ll get my permission before you’re allowed to wear underwear. For now you can wear panties to school, but that’s all.”

“Yes Master”

He paused. For a moment I realized that He was at a loss, that He wasn’t sure about what He wanted to say.

“I love you, slave sarah.” he said at last.

My heart swelled and sang.

“I love you too, Master.” I murmured.

Master had found a pair of nylon stockings in my size abandoned in a drawer. He told me to put them on, and told me to get a pair of black high-heeled shoes.

“They’re in the hall closet, Master” I told him.

He looked at me. “So? Go get them.”

I realized that I wasn’t going to be allowed to cover up. Swallowing my fear I went out to the hall, where a drunken boy making his way to the toilet got a good look at my tits. I reminded my self that they were His tits now, and that if He didn’t want them looked at, He’d cover them. The thought made my nipples crinkle, and I felt the burn in my bottom again.

When I got back, Master clipped his heavy key chain to my leash again. I stood there, naked except for makeshift collar, leash, stockings and shoes, my hair brushing my neck and shoulders giving me chills, my nipples hard and my pussy already getting wet again.

“That’s how a slave girl looks.” Master told me contentedly.

“Thank you, Master”

“Let’s go find Jesse.” He said. I almost panicked for a moment. But I was His.

“Yes, Master.”