Master slave?
Introduction:
Michael tells Silk about his first time in the Lifesyle and about his first time a s a slave
It began on my seventeenth birthday; he began as she lay on his chest. My parents had made me stay at school for the holidays and I was really depressed. Christmas is no fun by yourself, but when you throw a Christmas Eve birthday into the mix, it makes for one hell of a lonely time. So I spent the whole holiday at school with the few others that had also been left behind. Now mind you, our holidays begin the Wednesday before Thanksgiving and don’t end till the first Monday after New Years, so that’s a long time to spend without loved ones.
So anyway, we had some fake ID’s and had been going to this bar regularly where we also met some girls from the all girls school five miles from our school. Drinking and sex were the order of the day most days. I had gotten sick and tired of what I could only call normal sex by that time and was just usually going through the motions with a girl. I would screw her, get my rocks off and pass out. Hell I don’t even know if they came most of the time. I just didn’t care.
So my birthday came, and we found ourselves in the bar as usually, drinking to what the bartender thought was my twenty-fourth birthday. Some girl was coming on to me, but I just could get up enough gumption to care. Then she walked in the bar.
Right off the bat there was something different about her. She exuded dominance and sexuality. All the guys tried hitting on her but she blew them off. I kept catching her watching me and finally she slid into the seat next to me at the bar. She leaned over and bit my ear, which turned me on instantly.
“I know you’re not twenty-four,” she whispered.
Turning and giving her a cocky grin, I said, “Sure I am wanna see my ID?”
“No,” she purred in my ear, “I am pretty sure it’s a fake and if the cops were to come they would knew it for sure.”
I glanced at her wondering if she was a narc. Shit I thought and turned to leave, time to get the hell out of here. Before my feet hit the floor, she grabbed my arm and turned me back around to face her.
“Don’t worry my pet. No one is coming,” She said with a sexy smile, “Tell you what, come home with me, and I won’t tell the bartender. Your little game can be our little secret.”
I studied her; she seemed to be in her mid twenties. I wondered what she wanted with a young stud like me. Then a light bulb flashed, “Look, I don’t pay for sex lady.”
She laughed, “Don’t worry pretty boy, I don’t want you to pay with money,” then she got serious, “Now come home with me or I’ll tell the bartender your real age,” when I still resisted, she added, “Come pretty boy, trust me.”
Trust me, those words came to mean a great deal to me over the next year. They were spoken whenever I was hesitant and even now I find them coming from my own mouth as I teach you. So trust her I did, and I left the bar and got in her car with her. She took me to her home. As she let us in, I remarked that if she was hooker, she was doing really well.
She led me into the living room and told me to sit as she fixed us some drinks. As she brought them to the couch, handing me one, she finally asked, “So how old are you really?”
“Seventeen today,” I informed her proudly.
She gave a low whistle and gave me a grave look. Then she thought better of what she was thinking and said, “Okay, I know who you are Michael St. Paul, so trust me when I say this isn’t about your money,” again those words.
I said okay as she slid into my lap and began kissing me. We necked on the couch for a while before she stood and led me to her bedroom. Once on the bed she took over and pressed me down on my back. Suddenly I felt cold steel snap closed on my wrist which was above my head. I jerked my wrist and began to push her off me.
She pushed me back down and said, “No Michael, trust me. I won’t hurt you. It’s part of the game.”
Something in her eyes told me that she was on the level, that I could trust her and so finally I allowed her to cuff my other wrist to the bed. Next she tied my ankles also. As soon as I was secure, she jumped up and grabbed a few items off her dresser. I strained my neck trying to see what she was up to. Then she approached the bed and I saw a pair of scissors in her hand.
“If you make a sound I will stop and send you home, is that understood,” She asked.
When I nodded she proceeded to cut my clothes from my body, with no regard to the fact that my pants cost a hundred and forty-five dollars and my silk shirt was a three hundred and twenty dollar specially made for me one of a kind.
Once I was naked, she placed a blind fold over my eyes. It made me nervous but I felt that I could trust her so I gave into the feelings. She left for a few moments and when she returned I heard her light a match and smelled a candle. She came up to the bed and I felt something caress me. It started at my neck and when down to my feet. I didn’t know what it was until she brought it down in a light sting on my thigh. A riding crop, I now knew. The sting didn’t hurt but the reaction to it seemed to shoot straight to my cock.
Next she straddled me and I felt ice on my chest, then just when it got too cold, something hot dripped on the spot where the ice had been; hot wax. I arched up in response and she slapped my nipple with the crop.
“Down boy,” she laughed. She then changed tactics, “Stick out your tongue,” She ordered.
Trusting her, I did as ordered. I felt silly laying there with my tongue sticking out but did not have time to think about as she leaned over and bit me on the tongue.
“Are you a good boy or a bad boy,” She asked.
Not totally knowing what she meant, I replied, “A good boy.”
“Not after tonight,” Came a laugh.
Then I felt her shift on the bed and felt her legs on either side of my face, “Stick out your tongue,” She ordered again.
I again did as ordered and this time I got a different feeling inside me. Slowly she lowered herself over my face and told me to lick her. She rode my face till she was on the brink of cumming and the stopped and shifted around yet again. She is the one who taught me to pleasure a woman with my tongue also. Suddenly I felt something cold on the tip of my cock. She had taken a piece of ice and was rubbing it just around the tip. Then she placed the ice in her mouth and crushed it up and proceeded to give my first every blow job. High school girls were not into that yet so I was pretty inexperienced.
She kept this up till I was close to cumming and the stopped. Next she spent what seemed like an hour kissing and rubbing every inch of my body. What I didn’t know was that she was also inspecting me. It felt like heaven even though she would also deliver little slaps with the crop here and there. The slaps hurt a little bit, but it was a good hurt.
Finally she asked with a teasing sound in her voice, “Do you want it?”
“Yes I hissed,” through clinched teeth.
Smack came the crop, “Yes what? From now on, you’re my slave and I am your Mistress.”
“Yes my Mistress,” I said.
She then slowly lowered herself on my cock and started to ride me. After a few moments she started to shake and came so hard that she collapsed on top of me. After she regained her strength I could tell that she still meant to tease me when she asked, “Would you like me to continue slave.”
“Yes my Mistress,” I begged.
“Then I will sit here on top of you and if you want it, you will have to do all the work,” she said with a hint of laughter in her voice.
So being still cuffed and tied down, I somehow found a way and when I came it was the best of my entire life up to that point. Later I had bruises on my wrists and ankles for over a week but it was worth it.
Finally she got up and cleaned me off but left me still tied to the bed. She covered me up and told me to sleep for a while. I tried but was too keyed up and nervous to give into sleep. I heard her take a shower and could smell the soap she used. It is funny how smells are something a slave remembers and notices especially when they are blindfolded. I could smell her and the candle and the smells have stayed with me for life.
After her shower was over, I could hear her moving around the room, but she said nothing to me. Suddenly I felt her lips on my soft cock once again and with in seconds it was hard. Then she stopped and untied me and let me go. As I took off the blindfold, I noticed a pair of jeans and shirt on the chair next to the bed.
“Get dressed,” she told me.
I dresses and she led me out to her car. She drove me back to the bar and as I got out of the car, she handed me a card with her address and phone number on it and said, “See you tomorrow night slave,” and after a yes my Mistress from me, she drove away.
I stood there for a minute or two, then got in my car and went back to school since all my friends had already left the bar. Once back at school and in the privacy of my own room, I thought over what had just occurred and decided that it was the best sex I had ever had. I knew then that my life was changed forever; I was ruined for normal sex. While I didn’t necessarily like being her slave, I knew I could put up with it for a while. Somehow I would have to tell her that I would rather be on the other side. I wanted to be the one giving orders, giving punishment. I wanted to be the Master.
