Message-ID: <32951asstr$1003129803@assm.asstr-mirror.org> Return-Path: X-Original-Message-ID: <003901c154d0$1301cb60$1d9fb518@rockfd1.il.home.com> From: "Toran" X-Priority: 3 X-MSMail-Priority: Normal X-MimeOLE: Produced By Microsoft MimeOLE V5.00.2919.6600 X-ASSTR-Arrival-Date: Sun, 14 Oct 2001 11:48:38 -0500 Subject: {ASSM} Third Date (F/m BDSM) Date: Mon, 15 Oct 2001 03:10:03 -0400 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation X-Story-Submission: X-Moderator-ID: dennyw, gill-bates Here is another story I've written - being switch, this one is a little different than Just Five Minutes. As always, feel free to directly email with comments, which are always welcome. Thank you, Toran Third Date by Toran I see her through pain hazed eyes as she tinkers with one of the knots on the miles of rope she's tied to my body in a seemingly random spider web. Her image is upside down because that is the position she has me in as I hang in the center of her cold dark basement. She giggles from time to time as she pulls rope loops that have somehow worked loose, and every constriction causes the blood to pulse just a little harder behind my eyes. Our third date doesn't start as innocently as the other two. She's the one that I have a crush on almost immediately after starting my job at the place where we both work. She walks around the office in her pointed high heels and seems to enjoy the whispered snarls behind her back, the ones that usually end with 'bitch'. Those rumors, of a dark side and bizarre interests - they are the offering scent that floats on the wind and catches my nose, as my body is caught now. Her outfits of leather, her piercing eyes and not-so-subtle patronizing tones cause my heart to flutter and it isn't long before I follow her around like a beaten puppy. Soon, she is calling me 'her boy' to my new friends and co-workers, and behind the red that creeps across my cheeks I am touched so deeply that her towering image begins to haunt my dreams and fantasies. Dreams where I am strung up before her and flogged into unconsciousness. Dreams where I am pierced with hundreds of tiny needles. Dreams where my only sexual release comes after she reduces me to tears and welts and dried blood. I hear the wall crank ratcheting its metallic song and somewhere it clicks that she's lowering me to the floor. The red that clouds my vision is from endlessly swaying upside down at the mercy of her crop. Her Goddess form slides into view and she is brimming with tears, she is so pleased. I moan, my pain suddenly gone, so far away, replaced by warm golden light, that my suffering has somehow pleased her. Her auburn hair brushes my face as she checks the packing that is three layers thick in my mouth. I close my eyes as I feel her roll another tight band of tape around what still seems to be my lower face - her sopping wet panties, followed by medical wrap so tight my cheeks bulge, followed by tight white sealing tape that wraps around my head. And now, more tape. I imagine my jawbone lost in a tight sheen of tape, from nose to the tip of my chin. She whispers silk in my ear, 'You're making too much noise, pet.' I get assigned to a project that she's managing. Immediately, she finds ways to chastise me - the work is late, the work is poor, the work is never going to get done under deadline. We work late into the night, together, alone, me running to the pop machine whenever she is thirsty. Me hardly controlling my throbbing dick when she asks me to give her a back rub - her muscles are so tight from finding my mistakes. Me turning beat fiery red when she points out that giving her a foot massage at 3 in the morning is making my pants 'grow in interesting places'. I feel ashamed at her treatment. I know that she is obviously marking me, either as her professional whipping boy, or, and my heart flutters fast in my chest, her sexual toy. But when I begin to ask her out for drinks, she laughs and changes the subject. This is why I wear her panties. She plops a Victoria's Secret bag on my desk long after everyone else has gone home and tells me that there are a few things I need to do to date her. First, I wear the panties she buys for me. They are tight and frilly and if I am ever laying in a smashed up car with two broken arms and spinal damage, I will force my stumps and risk paralysis to get that red satin shit off me. But my underwear is now panties and the second thing I do to date her is to give her all of my cotton briefs. She burns them, of course. She runs her nailed fingers across my chest, bouncing from rope to rope, her thighs, soft and silky and warm in this cold cold basement rest against my waist as she kneels over me. Her fingernail catches the nipple rings, still painful because they are so fresh, and she blinks slowly at my pain. I know her pussy is sopping from this, I know that she's already sat in the corner and masturbated twice while flicking my balls with her leather crop. I know that her appetite can be slowed to simmer and that she can climb the basement stairs and flick off the lights and leave me here in the darkness without much thought, to be available whenever she feels the hunger. Of course, she tells me that only when I wear the necklace she gives me, the one with her initials plainly monogrammed in the center of the delicate chain, only then can she begin to consider going out with me. I should walk away. I should run away, actually. But, she stirs things inside me that are dark. And inviting. And right. And her power is what washes over me and cleanses me of my need to be anything but her pet. At her feet, her beck and call, the end of her whip. And now that I wear her panties, and her necklace, she ignores me. She flirts with some of my co-workers who smirk as they banter, all the while glancing at her necklace around my neck. I know now that teasing is her thing. She clamps my nipples, squeezes my balls, drips wax on my chest and always takes me to the brink of tears or explosive orgasm - and that's what gets her off, gets her wet, makes her want me almost as much as I want her. But its her tease. She hurts every inch of my body, plays with my dick and balls, and only masturbates. In soft throaty whispers, she tells me that when she is ready to come down off her throne, when she feels I am ready to worship her and please her in the way she demands, when I have proven through torture and torment that I am worthy to feel her power fully - she will consume me. Her breath warms my ear and then her soft wet lips play with my earlobe. My arms are numb, my fingers only appendages without movement. My balls are a light shade of blue, save for the angry red marks of her switch. My toes have become cold and lifeless from lack of blood in the upside down position. Time stretches on end between her soft, warm baths where she reduces my restraints from severe to light and the torments become pleasant as she suds my always-naked body with scented soap. Her naked body sometimes slips into the large tub and rubs against me and it takes every once of will to keep myself from filling the water with the seeds of my pleasure. She tweaks my ringed nipple and pats my head. She raises her nyloned leg up and straddles my ears leaving her pussy just inches from my nose. I drink in her smell and wish that I were ready now, ready to please her, ready to become unfettered enough to touch her, to run my fingers through her auburn tresses, to suckle her nipple and roll the button of her clit between my two fingers. She lowers her pussy and rubs her perfume across my nose. Then gets up, throws a blanket over me climbs her stairs. The complete darkness that follows the flick of the basement light pales to the blackness in my heart. We see the movie Castaway on our first date and she spends the entire time telling me that Tom Hanks is fighting his prison - he should just submit and offer his soul to the sun Goddess. I fight back the laugh - sun Goddess - and she senses this and quickly slides her hand down my pants and squeezes my balls so hard I tear up. She doesn't say a word the rest of the night and it is two weeks of groveling at her feet before she even acknowledges me. And that gives me pause to wonder exactly how deep into this I've fallen. Our second date is dinner at the most expensive restaurant in town. By her third glass of Dom Perignon she is staring at me with animal lust, her pointed heeled foot planted squarely between my legs under the table, her toe flicking my rock hard dick with feline impatience. She insists on driving and tells me that she wishes me to be gagged. My only choice is to sit up front with her and that big rubber ball buckled on me or to ride in the back seat, hand cuffed and blindfolded. I choose the second option and immediately see the disdain in her eyes. She roughly cuffs my hands behind my back wraps a strap of leather tightly across my eyes. I end up kneeling on the backseat floor while she drives for hours, soundlessly, every now and then snaking a hand between the seats to crack my ass. Our third date, the one that hasn't officially ended yet, if it ever will, starts with me at attention, naked save for her panties, in the center of her front room. She wears nothing but a silky teddy, black, and long high heels. Her hands roam my body, rubbing, squeezing, pinching everywhere but the one place I wish she would touch. Her lips brush mine and when I lean into her, finally wondering if her kiss is as wonderful as my dreams, her fingers dig into my balls. I look into her eyes, consumed by her power over me. She leads me to a chair and soon I am tied tightly to it. Eyes never leaving mine, she slips her panties off and opens my mouth. They are wedged deep inside, my lips taped shut and her juices on my tongue before I can even murmur. She rummages around behind me and I hear small metal noises. Then she is straddling my torso, her naked pussy so close to my throbbing dick, her legs tucked around my waist, her arms on my shoulders. "This is the last step, pet. This is your first real gift to me." She kisses me briefly my taped lips and I almost swoon. Then it is her teeth on my nipples biting and sucking and working my tiny buttons to a raw red. Our eyes locked, she reaches over me a brings an ice cube to my eyes. Slowly, working the melting frozen water deeper and deeper into my red flesh, she numbs my nipples, hips rocking with every buck of my body. Her breathing coming faster, she throws the ice cubes to the floor and grinds her wet pussy into my waist, never letting me come, she orgasms twice in quick succession. Flushed, she reaches behind me and shows me a long, slender needle. My eyes open a little. I am tied. There is nothing she does to me that I can remotely stop. I have trusted her , given to her my body, my masculinity, my soul. This too, I will give her, this act of branding, this permanent mark. Quickly, deftly, she punctures first one nipple, then the other and lowers her head to suckle my blood. My muffled cries and steady writhing stir her up again and she rides my tied body a third, then forth time. Wiping tears from my face with one hand, she works a ring into each nipple. "You are now marked, pet. You are mine now." Lost in the blur that follows is the blindfolded, hobbled walk down her basement stairs, the endless wrapping of rope about me, the suspensions, the whippings, the long endless periods of blackness punctuated by soft and soothing baths in the basement bathroom. She says she has made arrangements to have my position at work changed to permanently offsite status. She has shown me things from my apartment that she says she moved over here. She says that this is my home and that I am to be permanently confined; either in leather shackles or in the cage she has loaded. Part of me soars at the idea of being her forever slave. It's the other part, that dark part from where this all began, that asks me in a whisper, 'is this is enough?' <1st attachment begin> <1st attachment end> ----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------ Notice: This post has been modified from its original format. 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