I wrote this story in part based on a friend I once had from school. She was a decent friend, but with boys she was a terrible tease, and a terrific drama-queen. She was also seriously hot, which of course meant a trail of broken boyfriends in her wake. All that covered the fact that actually, she was very insecure deep down inside. She looked for validation from boys, and then tested them to the limit with her histrionics. The problem was that, while I know many people who “test” their relationships now and then, she didn’t know when to stop testing with the net result she always drove her boyfriends away in the end – usually into the arms of one of her female friends (guilty, on one occasion) who could see the damage she did to some very decent guys who really didn’t deserve the heartbreak (and some assholes who did, I’ll add).
Her only constant was one guy who was pretty laid back, didn’t date her, and just acted as person to talk to that she didn’t “compete” with. Then one day she met this one guy who didn’t put up with the constant testing, but put her over his knee and spanked her instead before tying her to the bed and blowing her mind (her words – actually, that’s how I got interested in the BDSM scene, but that’s another story). Last I heard, they were married and had kids, and I really wish her well in spite of all the mayhem she caused, because I know she had a really messed up childhood and she deserved some happiness.
Anyway, I rolled the two “good guys” in her life into one person for this story, and changed the plot just a little to make it run smoother.
Excerpt (adult content):
“Excuse me,” Simon apologizes, and goes to answer the buzzer. I vaguely register that he has a delivery, and he goes downstairs to take it. Sitting back in my chair I sip my coffee again. I came here for sympathy, not psychoanalysis. Simon has me in turmoil, but there isn’t anywhere else I can go. I know a number of work colleagues, of course, but they aren’t really close. Girls I know plenty, but either not well, or else they have taken off with a now-ex-boyfriend. Guys I meet a lot, but they are boyfriends, creeps hitting on me, or Simon.
A low moan cuts across my maudlin thoughts.
I sit bolt upright: the sound came from upstairs, from Simon’s bedroom level. Now that I focus on it, I can hear an intermittent buzzing too.
In all the time I have known Simon I have never seen the upper level of his studio apartment. Burning curiosity now fills me, and I give in to it at once. Slipping off my boots I pad up the steps to the upper level. It’s an open-plan space, very large for a bedroom. There is a bed there, a large waterbed by the look of it. There’s a lot more too. The entire area is like a genteel torture chamber, with many devices clearly intended to restrain and punish, even if I can’t quite figure out what they are.
The ceiling of the bedroom extends up to the rafters, and from the beams hangs ropes, chains, pulleys, and even cages.
The buzzing draws my eyes to the room’s sole occupant. She’s slim, with olive skin and rich black hair, perky breasts, and entirely naked save for a leather hood that covers her head and obscures her eyes completely. A pink ball-gag fills her mouth and she’s drooling a little over it. She’s sitting astride what looks like half a cylinder eighteen inches across, split lengthways and set on its flat side on a stand a few feet high, and it’s buzzing intermittently. The girl squirms on the thing, and I can smell her juices as I can also see that she is bound wrist-to-ankle so that she can’t lift herself off the thing.
It buzzes again, and she lets out a whimpering moan again, and I cover my open mouth in shock. It’s some kind of vibrator, and from what I can see a projection from the cylinder is right in her sex, buzzing against her clit. For all I know she’s impaled on a dildo too! She’s completely helpless, she can’t escape and she can’t increase the stimulation either. The intermittent jolts are clearly turning her on and driving her wild, but she can’t climax.
I shiver at the horror, and then shiver again as I realize that my nipples are standing to attention and my sex is dripping with lust. Trembling, I slink back downstairs again. I am shocked to the core. I never knew Simon was into that kind of thing. The girl upstairs was being sexually tortured while he and I had chatted casually – in fact she still is. Instead of being repelled by the sight, it really, really turned me on. For all I knew, she was enjoying it, and I find myself wondering if I would.
The door clatters and Simon carries in a large parcel.
“That’s dealt with,” he puts it down inside the door. “Are you all right ‘Shell? Look, I don’t mean to say that you are a horrible person,” he begins.
“Simon,” I cut him off. “Why is there a naked girl chained to a vibrator in your bedroom?”
“She’s a sub, I’m training her.”
I blink. He delivered the words as if announcing the latest baseball score.
“Yes, I’m a Dominant, she’s a submissive. Her owner loaned her to me for some training while he was away. She’s very responsive and of course there are benefits.” His grin is lecherous, and his jogging pants are bulging. I look away quickly, growing red. My nips are still hard, and I am sure if I don’t keep my legs together my jeans will get damp in the crotch.
“Her…owner…you mean white slavery?” Now I feel a very real thrill of fear.
“No! I mean BDSM lifestyle,” Simon laughs, and I sag with relief. Simon cocks his head to one side to look at me quizzically. “Are you sure you are all right?”
“Yes…I just, um, it’s a bit surprising that’s all. Did…did you mean what you said about wanting, um, wanting a relationship with me?” I ask in a small voice.
“If you were able to submit, I would, but you won’t. I’m a Dom, I call the shots – although I always discuss terms and conditions first. Once I am in a relationship, I’m in charge. I expect to use other subs for my pleasure, and I may give my slave to others for their pleasure if I choose. You could never submit to that, you’re too insecure.”
I bristle at the words.
“That girl upstairs, she’s OK with this?” I can hardly believe what he’s saying. I can believe what I’m thinking even less: wouldn’t it be such a relief to just let go and let someone else take charge just once?
“Oh yes, she loves it. Come on, I’ll show you.”
He takes my hand and leads me upstairs, with no pretense of stealth. His hand feels very strong and warm as I follow him. Everything seems to have slipped into the surreal. When we reach the top of the steps I don’t relinquish his hand as I look down at the girl still squirming and moaning a little.
“What’s the point of this?” I ask Simon in a whisper.
“Discipline, of course. She has a duty to control her lust for her Master’s sake, this helps,” Simon chuckles. He reaches down to the girl and releases the drool-covered gag from her mouth.
“Now then slut, have we been a good girl and not cum?”
“Yes Master Simon,” the girl’s voice is a breathy squeak.
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