Authors: Selena Kitt
About Alex Jordaine
Alex Jordaine is the author of
various works of Femdom erotica, both novels and short story collections, and
is regarded as one of the foremost writers of the genre (Romance Reviews Today
says Alex Jordaine’s work “gets a Multiple O’s rating. A real BDSM lover’s
dream”). Alex is a regular contributor to Europe’s leading fetish magazine,
Secret, and his work has also been anthologised in several collections of gay,
lesbian, spanking and general themed erotica. He and his long term partner,
Mistress G, have been involved in the UK fetish scene for a number of years and
are also naturists.
By Jennifer Campbell
“What do you mean, be your slave? You
can’t possibly mean actually give up my freedom and serve you, sexually and
otherwise? Do people do that?” As Misty looked at her lover her big hazel eyes
indicated her surprise at what he had just suggested to her. She had always
thought submission and bondage were confined to a freaky segment of the
population. The sort of people who read those kinky books she’d seen in the
bookstore, but then she remembered the time when she’d been drawn to open one
those books and she began to read what was inside. She recalled she’d been so
aroused by what she read it became hard to stop and put the book back on the
shelf.
“No, no, many people have D/s
relationships, normal folks like you and I. The submission of one partner to the
other is exciting and it adds spice to your love life.” Even though they were
in the public square with dozens of people walking about around them, Marcel
slowly reached down and touched her breast feeling her stiff nipple through her
thin bra and silk blouse. “Your nipples are hard at my suggestion, Misty. Does
the idea of being my slave excite you?”
Her staid New England upbringing made
Misty instinctively pull away from his fingers rubbing her breast, but she
realized it wasn’t because she didn’t like him touching her in public. No, her
action was more learned societal restraint taught to her by her mother. Misty
had long since bypassed her mother’s strict teachings and established her own
sexuality. Truthfully she knew letting Marcel play with her nipples here in
public thrilled her.
Meeting Marcel had been like a
passionate, sexual whirlwind to Misty. It had only been a just over a month
since the handsome French student had entered her life with his dark soulful
eyes penetrating her soul. It was all a blur now, powerful feelings of lust,
deep emotions, and the fulfillment of so many of her fantasies through this
foreign boyfriend who she still couldn’t believe had made the first move to get
to know her. She had wondered why her, because in her mind Marcel’s curly
sienna hair and ripped chest made him the kind of guy who she wouldn’t have
stood a chance with back in high school.
Misty knew she was basically
attractive with a slim figure and long red hair which got some attention, but
her boobs were right on the line between B and C cup which didn’t wow the guys.
Every time Marcel’s dark eyes looked at her, Misty still wondered; why did he
choose me?
Misty would have blushed full red had
her mother known how things had gone with Marcel. They had kissed and he’d
touched her intimately on the very first date and she’d only been able to
resist his charm for three days before they were in her bed exploring each
other’s bodies. After her sexual capitulation, it had only been another week
before he’d moved into her tiny off-campus apartment and they’d been living
together. Misty couldn’t help but wonder how long this bliss would last before
this relationship dried up and blew away like all the others in her life had.
Having pushed away from his hand on
her breast, she now reached out and grabbed his hand pulling it back to her
breasts and giggling as she did. The giggle was her way of easing her tension
about the slave question. “So you really want me to be your slave?”
He touched her hair and kissed her
face making her feel so loved. “More than anything,
Mon ami
, it would be
perfect and I would make it perfect for you.”
This Misty did not understand.
How
could things be perfect for the slave?
“How would you do that? Isn’t the
dominance and submission stuff all about the satisfaction of the dominant?”
“No, no, again you misunderstand. It
should be good for both of us. As your Master it is my job to see that you are
thrilled by the things I have you do. We will have to be very open and you will
have to tell all your sexual fantasies so I can make them come true for you. I
promise you right now, Misty, your submission to me will be bliss.” He held her
close to him as he played with her covered breasts and Misty’s arousal grew as
people unknowingly moved around them.
The idea of playing out her sexual
fantasies intrigued Misty as she had expected the submission thing was about
her indulging his fantasies. However her mind shifted gears and she immediately
thought of an all important question. “What would happen if I were bad? Would I
be punished?” As soon as the question left Misty’s pink frosted lips she knew
how she hoped he’d answer.
“Very definitely you would be
punished,
Mon ami
, a slave must obey her Master.” His dark eyes twinkled
as he looked down at her and she caught her breath because his answer made her
insane with desire.
Misty had made a quite exciting
discovery back in high school in a most shocking and unusual way. She was
simply a train wreck in History and her teacher, Mr. Davis had become so
frustrated with her failing grades he had asked her to stay after school for
extra help. Well to Misty’s surprise the extra help had come in the form of Mr.
Davis taking her over his knee and baring her to her panties for a
bum-reddening spanking. Naturally she had been shocked and her first reaction
was to tell the school authorities and get him in deep trouble, but what she
hadn’t counted on was how sexually aroused she became during the spanking. If
Mr. Davis hadn’t been old and not so attractive to her she would have begged
him to fuck her. After he apologized profusely for what he’d done, she decided
not to turn him in and asked him if he would punish her again if her grades
didn’t improve. Yet to her dismay, Mr. Davis’ action was a one time loss of
control he didn’t dare repeat and although Misty tried to get her boyfriend to
spank her hard she hadn’t been able to embolden him. Yet the incident forged
the link in Misty’s mind between punishment and her desire for sex and she
understood how she would feel if Marcel’s hand punished her soft bottom.
“You . . . you would spank me?” She
pushed the words out in hopes his answer would be yes.
“Yes, and perhaps more if you are
truly naughty. I might use a crop, a whip, or perhaps a cane if you are
willing.”
To Misty a crop was something they
used on horses and a whip was even scarier. The idea of a caning both
frightened and intrigued her. She understood they all were tools to punish her
and that excited her, but there had to be limits, right? “You would respect
whatever limits I set and not go too far?” She felt somewhat self conscious
even asking Marcel this as she couldn’t imagine him hurting her.
Marcel ran his hand through her hair
and he began to walk her to a nearby bench. “Your submission will be nothing
but what you desire, Misty. I sense you have deep submissive desires and I will
allow you to explore them.”
It was all more amazing than she could
imagine. Now Marcel, who was already a gift from heaven, was going to make her
kinky sexual fantasies come true. A strong wave of excitement welled up inside
her and she got the impulse to ask him to do something dominant to her right
now with all these people milling about. She took his hand and pulled him to a
nearby bench. “Could you do something right now, Marcel, please?”
Marcel paused a moment. “Not unless
you can call me Master.” He knew saying the word to him would be a thrill for
her.
Misty sat down on the bench, but
clenched his arms so he would stay standing in front of her. This was close to
the position she had often sucked his cock in and so she would have to look up
to look him in the eyes which reminded her of servicing him orally. With
Marcel’s legs to shelter her from view, she opened her legs to feel the breeze
on her panties while sitting on this bench on busy Newbury Street. The soft
spring breeze wafting on her panties made her sure her pussy was damp with
desire. Misty let her hazel eyes look up at him as she said the words. “I’m
open to you, Master, to do with as you will.” A pulse of naked arousal surged
through her.
Yes, I do want to be his slave.
Although the Newbury Street tourists
and shoppers were seemingly unaware of Misty’s submission as they dipped in and
out of storefronts and bistros, Marcel smiled and sat down beside her. Without
him standing in front of her, Misty instinctively started to close her legs,
but he stopped her by placing his hand on her inner thigh, just under her denim
skirt. He leaned in and whispered to her. “Don’t be afraid to allow your Master
to touch you.” Stealthily he slipped his hand up the few inches which separated
his fingers from her pubis. Next he touched her panties right over her pussy
allowing his fingers to fondle the thin material.
Misty gasped to his touch and her legs
parted inviting him to do as he pleased. He slipped in just a little further so
his fingers could run right over her clit. “Yessss, please, Master, touch me
there.”
However the touch was fleeting, just a
taste, and Marcel’s hand was gone in an instant. Misty mewed softly in protest,
but then began to smooth down her shirt which had been pushed up by Marcel’s
invasion of her intimate space. As she closed her legs, she got her first
feeling of what it would be like to be his slave. As a sexual object used first
for his pleasure, she knew she would derive the ultimate pleasure from his use
of her body.
As she turned to speak to him, she
caught sight of a blonde girl sitting on a bench opposite her who was quite
obviously watching them. The girl was beautiful, the kind of blue-eyed blonde
Misty could imagine seeing Marcel with, but Marcel was with her. The girl
smiled and nodded at Misty like she was somehow silently approving of Misty’s
sexual play and her lover.
“My answer is yes. I want more. I want
to be your slave, Marcel.” Misty’s words were breathy with her arousal, but she
doubted she’d ever been more serious about anything in her life.
“Then it will be so,
Mon ami.
”
Misty let her head sink into his chest
and she smelled his cologne with a sigh.
How did I get so lucky?
* * * *
Four days had passed since her
admission on Newbury Street, but nothing had yet happened as Misty had been
busy with her classes at Boston College. Marcel had also been busy with his
French teaching assignments, but it was now Friday, Misty’s last day of class
for the spring semester. Marcel had promised her they would begin her
submission this weekend and he had given her specific instructions on what she
must do when she returned to their apartment. The nervous anticipation had been
building in Misty for four days and she was ready to do anything for him.
By far the strangest of her
instructions was not to enter her apartment even though she of course had a
key. She was assured that when she arrived he would already be there and she
was to knock on her own door when she arrived. She did so and after her knock,
he spoke to her through the door giving her permission to enter, but when she
did he wasn’t there in the front room waiting for her. Instead as he had told
her previously there were the items they had discussed sitting on the coffee
table waiting for her. There was a black scarf to use as a blindfold and a pair
of handcuffs. She remembered her instructions were to strip down to her bra,
panties, and stockings (she had been specifically told to wear these
undergarments to class today). Once stripped down to her lingerie she
blindfolded herself and handcuffed her wrists behind her back before she
assumed a kneeling position on the living room carpet. Misty noticed her
breathing got heavier and she began to shake with anticipation as she went
through his steps and when her knees hit the floor she understood Marcel had
been right about how she would feel. If submission made her feel like this, she
would love it.
What seemed like a long time passed
while she was on her knees, but she realized how did she really know how long
it was? Finally she heard footsteps approaching her.
“Are you ready to serve, slave?” It
was the French-accented voice she loved asking her to check in with him as to
how she was doing.
Misty’s arousal spiked at his voice
and she felt like her pussy juices must be running down her thighs by now.
“Yes, Master, your slave is very ready.” She accentuated the “very ready” in
hopes he would do something to her quickly.
However nothing happened and time just
seemed to slip by. She could hear his footsteps moving around the apartment.
Was he preparing something for her, a surprise perhaps? Finally she dared
speak. “Master, I’m ready for you.”
“Be quiet, slave, you have not been
told to speak.”
Wow, he’s being so serious, like I’m
really a slave.
To
Misty this was odd and she was anxious, but she was still willing to obey.
Clearly he was injecting a sense of realism into their game and this excited
her. There was more silence for a little while, but finally she heard him move
up behind her and lift her long red hair from her neck. “Bend over, slave, face
on the carpet.”