Erotic Encounters

Well, thought Sam to himself, he might as well give up on this BDSM business. It was getting him nowhere and confusing him no end. Women were hard to understand!

He was sure she was not dissimulating about her innocence concerning BDSM but he was equally sure that a woman of her age, accomplishment and life-experience, who had moreover met him for Dominance and Humiliation, and Submissiveness, and who had come up with that bondage idea, did not get all these ideas from nowhere.

But so what? This line of questioning was accomplishing nothing. She beat him at every turn. He was struggling to understand Gwen's emotional dynamics, but he had taken as many steps back as forward. She would not be discovered. Her psyche did not wish to be laid bare to him.

One thing was clear, however, her fear of disappointing him was overwhelming. When he seemed disappointed in her, she regressed to childlike behavior. She stood naked in front of him, a fully formed and beautiful woman and yet, he saw her as a waif--a child. He did not want to screw children.

The idea of giving it to her in the ass was an idea of male conquest. He would not do it in a whore or slut's ass. That seemed to him like putting it into a sewer. But taking possession of a lady's ass was quite another thing. It was her most private part, the last part of her publicly acknowledged and seen. The most shameful way to be fucked, at least according to the customs he was brought up with. When she would give this to him, he would possess her in the most shameful way. She would be giving everything to him. All her honor. She would be completely his. He wanted this despite everything she said as to how much he effectively owned her already (owned, because she would do anything to please him).

But he wanted the conquest of a bright, articulate, sensitive, lady, not of a trembling child. He had to remind her of this.

"Gwen, remember to hold your head high, be proud, act the lady, your are a lady, my lady who will be doing this for me and for no other. Doing it with joy. Even if it hurts--then the acted joy of a courtesan".

Sam managed to move some pieces of furniture in place so that he could bind her hands and feet to them, spread out, and in front of a large mirror so she could see everything that was going on. Then he gave in to his heart, and kissed her lovely body everywhere with great tenderness. She had to be sure of his feeling towards her.

He took out small vibrating dildo sand inserted them into her for and aft to begin the process. While it was at work, he stood before her, and caressed her breasts, he sucked her nipples, he pulled them. He looked into her eyes and forced her to look into his. What was she thinking and feeling so far? If he asked he doubted he would get much of an answer.

She tried to do all he asked of her yet always it seemed, she failed in some way. She looked in his eyes and prayed that she could make him happy. Somehow. Even though she had given up prayer years earlier when her Papa died still at times like these she found herself automatically doing it again.

Sir spoke to her reminding her again of how to act. Oh, she thinks, I am not acting as he wishes. I keep forgetting. Why am I like this? I must do better! Gwen straightened her posture and smiled even though she stood starkers in her office before him. Even though she had displeased again him somehow.

She kept her head up and tried to look proud as he wished while her heart pounded. She let him tie her. The feeling was most interesting, the slow release of power, her giving into him and being completely vulnerable. If he left her now who would find her? It would be disaster! She trusted him not to do that but even so, the thoughts in her mind ran wild.

He placed the mirror where she could see everything and she didn't want it. She didn't want to see any of it at all but she couldn't force herself to not look. She kept getting little glimpses even when she didn't want to. Sir made it clear without speaking that she should watch and look into his eyes.

She struggled to look joyful, calm and proud for him. He kissed her gently all over. Making her want to grab onto him and kiss him back. Making her feel that he cared and accepted her now.

Sir took a dildo, it was rather small and put it into her slit. She moaned at that and felt him turn on the vibration which made her buck a little though she had not meant to. It felt so good. It wasn't Sir yet, no, not his glorious flesh but still, it was wonderful.

When he inserted it into her tiny opening, she tried to relax, act proud and joyful but it was not to be. She felt like she was being broken open and she gasped holding back tears. After he had pushed it past her sphincters the pain eased a bit and she was able to relax a little. He worked it inside her and some of the sensations actually felt good, blending with the pain until she wasn't sure where one left off and the other started, nor did she care. So long as the pain wasn't too sharp and she was also feeling pleasure she knew she could take it. Again Sir turned on the vibration and she loved that.

His hands moved over her body leaving the dildo in place. He walked to the front of her and played with her breasts like they both enjoyed and she fell into his eyes. She felt she was being pushed into a space of pure sensation, her smile became genuine again. She felt her emotions for Sir grow.

Sam saw her ascending into the clouds of pure feeling. He wanted to keep her there in an almost hypnotic state. He whispered into her ear, softly,

"Let yourself go. Let yourself slip into a trance. Let yourself ride the pleasure and the pain, observe yourself floating over pleasure and pain. Tell yourself that you are ascending to new heights of feelings. You are giving more and more to the master you wish to please. You are proving ever greater devotion. You are conquering pain."

He repeated these things, over and over, murmuring to her until her breathing had become steady and deep.

Then he carefully extracted the dildo from her behind and slowly inserted one, very slightly wider and longer. She gasped in pain. He waited to see how she would take it before saying or doing anything else.

As he watched her, he thought to himself, how wonderful women were to be so giving to their men!

Gwen falls into his eyes, landing in a space that required no thought or decisions and just floated there as her emotions and the sensations swelled and took over.

Sir was speaking to her but it was hard to hear his words or anything at all. His tone though, it felt nice, loving and approving.

She suddenly feels empty and sad. Then she is filled again only by more, it stretches her and fresh pain rips into her. Again the sharpness of the pain stops. Progress stops and she adjusts to the new thing but it doesn't move within her yet.

Through the haze of pain and pleasure she moans for more.

Gwen is asked a question.

It is at this point that Sam began to understand some things.

First, that Gwen was already in some kind of ecstatic state, a trance, induced not only by the stimulations she was receiving, and, perhaps by his voice and caresses, but by the fact that her whole body was strung up in this almost free-floating, all-accepting stance. He could not imagine himself, or any man, achieving such a state (although perhaps some could?) but women's sexuality seemed made for it. It was certainly a way nature might have conceived to have them lie still, relatively oblivious to any pain a man might inflict, and receive his sperm. Bondage, it seemed to him, must appeal mainly women rather than to men. It certainly did little for him. The only reason a man would tie up a woman, it seemed to him was for rape, or other non-consensual sex. And even then, he was strong enough to overpower most women he would be sexually interested in. He didn't need ropes.

He also realized that he had neglected to fully lubricate her anus and this was causing her more pain than necessary.

And finally, since he was not experienced in stringing up women, he was worried that by this time her circulation might be suffering.

For all these reason, he took Gwen down. As he untied her, she lay slumped over his shoulders, as in a dead faint. He gently lay her on the carpet face down. Then he carefully withdrew the dildo from her anus, but left the buzzing one over her clitoris.

He had enough of dildoes. Covering his hand with a rubber glove to prevent his nails from hurting her, he inserted one and then two well lubricated fingers and gently massaged the region of the sphincter.

He did this fo quite some time--it was enjoyable anyway to sit there with a beautiful woman laid out before him, observing all her womanly curves, with two fingers up her ass! And he knew she liked it also. He mused at the strangeness of shame. She had been ashamed to hike her skirt and show her panties, but not to suggest that the same gentleman put his finger up her ass. This will require much deep thought he mused.

Finally, he thought she was ready. His rod was not that much thicker, if at all than his two fingers and three fingers might be a bit much. He was ready to fuck, but wsas the lady?

He leaned over and whispered." Gwen, are your ready to get it up the ass? And if so, how would you like it: lying here, pinned to the wall, over your executive desk, or in presentation position? Would she answer him, he wondered?"

Gwen was beyond this world. She was someplace more special.

Sir played with her as he wanted for a while but then she found herself untied on the floor. She felt fingers in her ass. Not flesh fingers or not entirely, they were covered in something. They felt so good sending her away again into unthinking bliss.

Sir leaned over and whispered." Gwen, are your ready to get it up the ass? And if so, how would you like it: lying here, pinned to the wall, over your executive desk, or in presentation position?"

It takes a while for her to sift through the sounds of his voice. Mine the words into something she can grasp with her brain.

"I think I might be ready Sir." She says through her now labored breathing. "Just please go slow? I would prefer to be on my hands and knees, Sir." She says in a voice that is not steady. She begins to rise to her knees.

So she made it to her hands and knees and Sam came up behind her and carefully inserted his tool into her little hole. Then he slowly and tentatively pushed in. When things seemed to be going slowly moved back and forth feeling her relax and appear to enjoy it (her clit was all this time still being buzzed and that sure helped). Sam leaned his weight over more onto her body so that her arms folded and she ended up in the position he preferred, the ass presentation position, with it proudly sticking strait up and her head and shoulders in deep submission upon the floor.

This still was a far cry from 'nailing her to the wall' a far more vigorous exercise he looked forward to, but he figured this was part of the breaking in process. He doubted he could thrust hard enough to come with his slow anal training, so she would have to finish him off later. As he was doing his labor of love and she, presumably, was flying around in 7th heaven not saying a word, Sam began to think of where this relationship could go .

He had started with the idea of merely pleasant occasional erotic encounters in which his favorite erotic stimulants-- submission/humiliation of a lady-- would be featured. He knew there were many ladies with complimentary desires . So far so good. But it was natural that people would try to explore, refine, increase, what have you, their erotic stimulation. There were other things to be done with Gwen, further degrees of submission/humiliation to try, but he also knew that these generally were taken to limits (whipping, degradation, torture) that he had no desire to go to.

So he tried to think of new directions for the future when his present store of lechery ran out. Meanwhile, there were a few minor improvements in Gwen's technique as a submissive courtesan that he hoped to make.

Like most well bred women she would do things that she would not say.

But men were always asking women to 'ask for it', 'talk dirty', and so on. It was seen as humiliation by women and it made men hot. Gwen always avoided using the blunt expressions Sam used. She worked around them. So Sam leaned forward and whispered into Gwen's ear

"Sweetie I would love to hear you say "I love taking it up the ass", nice and clearly so we both can hear it. Possibly you might want to suggest other ways to be fucked up the ass--that would be nice to hear also."

When Gwen climaxed, at least three times to Sams count, he called it quits. Sitting Gwen up on her well used rear he said. "Now I want you to make me cum--mouth, hands, whatever...show me your artistry. I will do anything you ask to help in your performance. And maybe you can even talk dirty while you do it"

Gwen was again having a hard time hearing her Sir, she swam to the top of the wonderful peace, the pool of exquisite sensation and strained to hear him. She wanted to be and do just what he told her to. Once she understood what he wanted her heart plummeted. To say what he asked, was nearly unthinkable. Why can't men just enjoy doing? She wondered. Damn. I thought women were the ones to want talk not this kind of talk.

Could she say it? What other ways were there of being down there? She tired to make her brain work again it seemed that had been drowned out by pleasure before. She tried to wring her mind dry enough to facilitate thoughts and actions. She cleared her throat.

"I love to take it up the, the, b, uh, ass." She said haltingly struck by acute embarrassment she flushes and turns red, her skin feels prickly. "I love to, oh, take it up my bum!" she says a bit clearer. Her mind turning over possibilities, what had he said before? Oh yeah.

"I would like it over my desk, against the wall..." That was better no bad words in there. "Maybe on my back or something." She continues to think.

"Sir? It really does feel good. Better than expected. I thought it would only hurt really. It's incredible, except for the pain. Even the pain, I don't mind it so much. That is strange I know. I don't understand it myself but together, it all feels good." She says overcome by this new experience. "I should do something. Mount an awareness campaign or something to let people know how great it is. Would you like to try it? Feel what I have? It's fantastic!"

Sir speaks and again shocks Gwen. "Now I want you to make me cum--mouth, hands, whatever...show me your artistry. I will do anything you ask to help in your performance. And maybe you can even talk dirty while you do it"

Gwen looks back at Sir. "What? Talk with my mouth full? Talk dirty? You want me to suck on you after you've been back there? Really? Artistry? Wow. Thanks. I don't consider myself artistic in that way." She says looking shocked, confused and still positioned on her arms and knees.

When Sam heard Gwen's efforts at man dirty-talk he knew that he had again over-reached. It sounded pitiful and certainly not sexy. There's submission and then there's submission--she would have to be force trained in ways he would not contemplate to make her make herself sound convincing. (Was it possible that if she were force trained--as so many subs were--she would enjoy the experience?)

And then, what did she mean by me 'trying it'? Did she want to put a dildo up my ass? Not in a million years--to close, conceptually, to a penis, the thought of which repelled me. But her sophisticated little pinky? That was a maybe.

All Sam wanted now was to have his orgasm. He had worked hard at it. He deserved it. His cock and balls were blown up. And she comes back at him with this cute talk about him wanting her to swallow his cock straight from her cute little asshole! Of course he didn't mean that, and she should have known it. Hell, she could scrub his cock in lye soap if she wanted before taking it. And how clean did she think men's cocks got--even after a shower--when they had been up an ass? Without the use of condoms anally-orally complaisant women were taking more in their mouths than they seemed to realize.

Anyway, Sam was sick and tired of waiting on her. Without another word, he grabbed her around the waist, dragged her up to the wall of her office. Hoisted into a good position, inserted his dirty old cock up her ass, and pumped her hard. Sam was a naturally large and strong man--not an athlete, but a hiker, climber, and heavy lifter around the house--and so each time he pushed, Gwen was crushed up against the wall, with all the air knocked out of her. It did not take long for Same to empty himself into her and--at least he thought--she looked glassy-eyed enough to have thoroughly enjoyed this type of treatment. He vowed that she would get more of it.

When he was finished with her, he carried her to a sofa, laid her down and said," It is time for some rest and recuperation. Lets shower and eat, and then come back this evening to finish our day. I intend to put my cock up your ass again, against the wall. This time, with you dressed so that my cock can make its joyful way through all sorts of frilly undies.

Oh and lets get this things out, so you come off of cloud nine and stop having little climaxes"

He reached down and pulled out the busy little buzzing dildo that had been working for Gwen all along. Ruefully he thought to himself, that his addition to her pleasure was probably minimal compared to that busy little clit machine. He might as well not even be there. His presence probably background noise!

"Gwen, while we are eating, I want you to try to tell me about any fantasy-dream(s) you have had that we might use to to keep our researches achieving ever ascending erotic levels. Please dont tell me you have no dreams or have no memories of them! And you don't have to use any, any dirty words, as long as you make yourself clear enough for a simple man to understand!"

Sir doesn’t speak again. She feels herself being hauled up roughly and thrown against the wall. Gwen ouffs! She does so from shock and the pressure of being thrown then pinned to the wall. Sir pulls away, then he is on her again.

Sir is back in her ass. She looks at him a bit shocked. She starts to smile at him. He strokes into her hard, knocking the breath out of her, pinning her there with his cock and his body.

In any other circumstances she would have been frightened. She was still a little scared but also excited. The vibe was still working. Sir was making all kinds of wonderful things explode in her body. All she had to do was remember to try and catch her breath when he wasn’t against her. She floats away again.

Suddenly he is done, his body tensing, thickening releasing streams inside her. She loves that and smiles. He picks her up again carrying her to the couch. The leather squishes noisily when they move onto it again.

“It is time for some rest and recuperation. Lets shower and eat, and then come back this evening to finish our day.” Sir says.

“I have a private bathroom and shower over there and we can order in, unless you want to go back home, I mean, to the hotel.” Gwen replies when she can string two thoughts together again.

She starts thinking about her fantasies while waiting for his next instructions. She waits to find out if he wants to go back to the hotel or to order in here.

Which of her fantasies would he hate? Which ones would he like? She is scared to reveal them. Her heart and soul is in them. They are ugly things too. She isn’t sure she can say the words at all. It would be easier to write them. Gwen also doesn’t want to give the wrong ideas to Sir. A great many things she finds appealing in her head, she does not ever want to experience in real life. How can she say everything right? Sod it! This will be hard too. Her mind is throwing ideas around, until she is nearly dizzy with them.

Driving in the limo back to the hotel Gwen feels a little strange. Her undies she threw away and she sits without any under her suit. She had cleaned and dried herself but it is still a strange sensation.

She thinks over the day so far and her fantasies. Her stomach rumbles and she has the grace to look self conscious about it. She looks up at Sir and catches a smile from him.

They get to the hotel finally and Sir escorts her like a perfect gentleman with his lady. She holds up her head, hopes she doesn't drip and looks regal.

In the suite she goes immediately to put on a pair of black thong panties. She looks over the room service menu next.

She orders the filet mignon, salad and a glass of cabernet. She gets her lap top out and looks at Sir.

"May I please type up a fantasy for you, Sir, instead of saying them out loud? I really think that would work better for me. I could put in more detail and words, the sort you want me to use, into it than if I speak about it." She fires up the lap top. While she speaks. Her heart thudding thunderously in her ears.

The Daddy Room

Getting a silent nod from Sir. Gwen proceeds to type. Clearly this is hard for her. She pauses a lot and bites her lip. She stares off into space sometimes but she is also a very quick typist. So before the room service even makes it there, she is able to show Sir a special fantasy of hers.

"This is what I think about almost every time, I um, you know, achieve satisfaction. This is actually part of a series of rooms in my head. Lots of sick stuff goes on in each of those rooms. I am truly enslaved in them. I have put you into the role here of Daddy. This may make your skin crawl. You may well wish me to leave after this. Oh and I might add, I would not want to experience this in real life." She says nervously and turns the lap top to Sir so he can read what she has written.

This is what he read:

That day had been a long one. I had started out in the mask room. Where you have a mask over most of your face and men fuck your holes, not knowing or caring what you look like, or who you are, you are faceless.

Then I was prepped and moved to the Fi Fi the Fuck Poodle room.

After that I was sent to the hose room. Where I was pounded and fucked with water, cleaning me up for my last stop this day, the Daddy Room.

Of course at the time, I had no way of knowing it is the last stop. I had been so conditioned I don't even think about that. I just do what I am told. That's all.

I am allowed to dry my body with a rough towel. Then ordered to put on some clothes. A white starched shirt with a crest over the left breast is handled to me. There is a little plaid ribbon to tie at the throat, just under the white collar. A very short plaid pleated skirt, penny loafers and knee-high socks, complete the outfit. That is all I am allowed to wear. I put it on. Then I am taken to the room. I am pushed inside it with no words. I hear the door locking behind me. I turn and look about.

There you are sitting on a chair. In a black hooded robe. "Come child." You say. Your voice is deep and commanding. "Sit on my lap." I walk timidly toward you. This is my first time in this room. I don't know the protocols or what to expect and this scares me and excites me.

I know better than to refuse anything in this place. You, I haven't seen before. At least I don't think so. Your hood prevents me from knowing for sure. I walk to you. I start to sit on your lap. "No!" You bark. "Turn around. Do not face me."

I carefully lower myself onto your lap facing away from you. You put an arm around my neck. "Tell me what you did today child." You say.

Not knowing what you are seeking, not guessing you really mean this, I try to play it off. You are so big compared to me, it's like you could break my neck and, as if I could really be a child again. I think about what I am wearing then in a small voice I begin.

"I um, got up and got ready for school..." I begin uncertainly.

Your arm chokes me off then. I feel your chest hard against my back.

"No you liar. Tell me the truth; tell me, what you, my little girl, really did today. Who fucked you and how. Who did you suck? Tell me all of it everything. I know you. You are my dirty little girl."

I nearly pass out as you hold your arm against my windpipe like that, black spots dancing in my eyes. "Ok", I choke when I can breathe again.

I start to tell, really tell, you all the horrible things I did that day, my voice trembles with my body as I tell you about the day. I don't understand this game and just hope, I please you. I tell you about each of the many cocks that fucked my ass. I tell you about the many I sucked. I describe to the best of my memory the many that fucked my cunt and creamed in me today. It is not a comfortable thing to do. And as I do I feel you get hard beneath me.

You lift me like I weigh nothing. You slip your dick head between my pussy lips; I'm wet from saying all this nasty stuff and from my fear of you. Something I've learned since the day I was abducted and brought here, secretly, fear turns me on, and that shames me. Shame also turns me on. You start just lifting my body up and down on you. God you are so fucking strong. If I hesitate in my long descriptions, you choke me again. You make me speak again, more of it and in greater detail. I become almost hypnotized by this on going ritual with you.

While I talk for you, you just keep lifting me up and down on your cock. Never once have you acted like I was anything to you or like we were having sex. This is impersonal. There is no kissing, no intimacy and yet, more and more I am drawn to you. You are so commanding and hard. You feel so good inside me. Before I reach the end of the long day’s events and tasks, I start to feel incredibly heated, my body clamping onto yours as if in need. After a long while, because there is so much to tell and I've been used so much today, you come inside me. I feel you twitch inside me, tightening, stiffening then shooting off there. White hot and creamy spurts are hitting my inner walls; you are pulsing.

All you say is this: "Nasty girl. Look what you made Daddy do."

You lift me up off of you; deposit me roughly on the floor. Your cock and balls are now in my face.

"Clean it up, you nasty girl. Now!" You growl.

I so know how to do this, I mean; I must do it about fifty times a day for clients here. I lick all over, cleaning you up. Sucking in your dick head, then more of you, nibbling, licking. Taking each of your balls in my mouth. Starting to actually get into it. Almost fucking my own face with your cock now.

You grab me roughly by my hair. Your cock now is completely hard again. You pull me off of you. "I just said clean it up nasty girl. I didn't say enjoy it or fuck yourself with it did I? You've disappointed me.” You say.

I feel my heart shudder and contract in fear. In this place disappointing a client means discipline and punishment.

You pick me up then and walk me over to an altar I had not previously noticed. It's very ornate, candles and saints are everywhere. The smoke of incense floods my nose when you light it, the candles flames glitter and gut.

"Kneel down and pray child. Pray for your soul." You say, sounding sad now.

So I bend down there on my knees and put my hands up in an approximation of prayer. You come up behind me, again grabbing my throat from the behind.

Then I hear chains. You release me only to chain my hands to the sides of the kneeling area, an ornate stair affaire with high sides made of heavy wood.

You push with your other hand on the small of my back. Making my ass rise up, and me bend more then you tease my ass with your hand. You chain my legs to the alter too I am afraid now. Not having any idea what will come next. Some girls are just gone in the morning. No one I can talk to knows or will tell what happens to those girls.

“Pray you little bitch. Pray to be forgiven. To be cleansed of your dirty ways.” You say.

I feel something then, wet and cold land on my ass, and work into my hole. You begin then to slip into me a little. I gasp involuntarily at that first push against my first sphincter I wonder if I will ever get used to this. You pull tighter on my throat with your arm. I feel a burst of warmth for you then that I can't explain. You start pushing in further and further it hurts a little at first but then it just feels so incredibly good. My mind goes away for a bit, just reveling in these overwhelming sensations.

When I think about it, I keep trying to act like I'm praying but really, I just want more of that hard cock inside me again. I want it there forever, pushing at the limits of my ass hole. You are in me now, all the way. The pressure is incredible I feel you balls slap on my ass.

You start just pounding me. Over and over in and out harder and harder in my ass until I think I'm going to come apart.

"Pray bitch." You growl at me perhaps sensing my preoccupation with being ass fucked.

I do, only not for forgiveness but for release. I'm so hot it's painful. This with you is not like with the others. The other ones I have to pretend to cum with. I was conditioned to do that, but this, really turns me on. It shames me but it's true.

This is what I crave now, to be constantly reamed like this. I want to really be your little girl and stay with you, to be your slave only. You pull your thick cock out of me for a minute and then spit in my ass hole. A shiver runs up my spine at how degrading that is then explodes into heat increasing the already nearly overflowing fires in my body.

You insert your dick back into my little hole and fuck me harder than anyone ever has. Fluid’s drip and course down my thighs.

“Are you praying you nasty little girl?” You growl at me.

And then you cum inside me I feel the hot spurts filling up inside me adding to the pressure. You pull out and walk around to the front of me, the place where normal a Priest would stand as one knelt during a wedding ceremony.

“Clean it up! You nasty little bitch.” You say sticking your dick in my face. "You made Daddy dirty again!"

We both know where it’s just been and I blink but you pull me on you. I suck and lick and clean you again. I don't let myself get into it this time because I know you don't want me to but I could, so easily, even with where it’s been and what it has on it. I hate myself for that but being used like this is so horribly hot. I am so hot. I'm aching. I want release. I so rarely feel this way being fucked all day, you'd think I would but now with you, I'm weak for it.

When I have cleaned you. You push me off roughly. I think you are looking at me. I see your head shake negatively. You unchain my hands and legs. You go back and sit in your chair. The chair I've come to think of as The Daddy chair where you could cuddle me, fuck me, or make me cum.

“Come lie across my lap, face down.” You order. I shiver at that. I walk over to you, still wearing my catholic schoolgirl outfit. It’s a little wrinkled now and wet in places. Cum is flowing down my legs from my cunt and my ass.

“Daddy…” I say. “Daddy, don't, please…I'll be good I promise.” I'm whining a little, a place deep in my soul is being threatened now and I start to cry.

You laugh harshly at that.

"You don't know how to be good. You little slut, you couldn't be good if your life depended on it and it just might. What a lying filthy bitch you are. You don't know how to be good. You've just proven it over and over. So now Daddy has to punish you."

I lay down across you lap trembling. God you are so fucking strong. I am so damn wet. My pussy already pulsing I'm so scared and so excited.

“You don't know how to be good you little bitch. Now I'm going to spank you. You count as I do.” You say.

You spank my ass hard. And I feel the sting and the red concussion on my ass spreads in fiery little buzzes across my ass.. I start then to think that you might kill me. “One” I say my voice weak and excited. You spank me again and again so hard I get too excited and lose count. This makes you laugh and just hit me harder. I start to cum and you laugh louder.

"Yes, that's right come honey, Daddy's little girl has to come, NOW!" You say and I do, harder than I ever have before. The rest is a little fuzzy but later I am in my dorm. The slaves quarters, on my bare cot. I roll over on my stomach, my ass still sore from your touch and I cry, wanting to be back with you in the Daddy room forever.


While Sir is reading, Gwen nervously swings her foot. She hopes this won't be the end of things with Sir. She jumps when there is a knock on the door. Glancing at Sir, she sees he is occupied still with her fantasy, she cringes and goes to the door.

"Who is it?" She asks before opening it.

"Room service!" A young male voice says.

She opens the door, and a nice looking 20 something young man in the uniform of the hotel wheels a cart in. He sets things up. Gwen tips him and signs for the food. The sits back near Sir. Not feeling hungry anymore all of a sudden since everything make be gone here with Sir after he reads her dirty mind.

Sir puts the lap top down on the coffee table and takes a deep breath. Gwen waits for his indictment of her.

Sam read through what she had written, and then read through it again. There was a lot there to parse out. He turned to Gwen who sat nervously opposite at the table and said:

"Gwen, you have given me a remarkable document which I sincerely thank you for. I think it is very brave of you to bare your soul to me in this way--I respect your bravery and your willingness to give to me whatever I should ask of you."

"I want us to make the best possible use of this information. I am no doctor and I have no intention of trying amateur diagnosis and treatment of fantasies you yourself call sick. What would like to do is to derive from your story, a deeper understanding of your dynamics. If this can be done then we can formulate erotic play which we will both find satisfying, but which will not involve scenes you want no part of and are in fact ashamed of."

"I do not like to even give the appearance of hypocricy, so let me say that I do this to improve the performance of my sub, If she gets something on the side from the exercise, all the better."

"Let me get the basic time straight. How old are you in this fantasy?"

Gwen answered," About eighteen, graduation from High School"

"and how do you get to this place?"

"I think I am kidnapped"

"You talk about a church-like area. Is it a church?"

"No"

"You talk about the masked older man in the room. It takes up most of your story and many of the things he does to you can be related to things we have done. Obviously there were difference at the age of eighteen. Could you tell me who you associated with this man at that age? Was it your father? Did he play such a large role in the fantasy then as now, or has my influence begun to loom so large already ?"

"Lets go on from the answers you give these. Take your time, go slowly, let your mind wander and associate, and please, do not be afraid. Let uss order some more wine, to help pass the time and relax our inhibitions a bit."

"Sweetheart, please begin when you are ready."

Gwen is happy that Sir is not disgusted by her and throwing her out so she relaxes a little and drinks her wine answering his questions as quickly and as well as she can.

Slowly they begin to eat and drink. Gwen speaks more openly but skirting bad words. Sir asks questions gently and does not remonstrate her for her desires, which she can not control. More wine arrives. Gwen relaxes and opens up more.

"At that age? Now I am often my own age in this fantasy so I guess the age is mutable except in the capturing and partial training fantasy that starts all of them off. I'm always 18 in that one.

A lot of the fantasies or rooms I have only partical dirty thoughts for or in one, an endlessly repeating story that I go through until I achive satisfaction or move on to another fantascy.

I did not and still do not associate the "Daddy" in this one with any specific person. He is not my Papa. He is not you, though, I have a feeling as we go on, your face may become his. Usually he, and indeed all the men, in my sexual fantasies, are faceless. I don't know them yet and may never know them. It may not even be important for me to know them. It could be that my fantasies are more about me and my ego so in essense they are not really important as people. Or it may be I'm waiting to meet them. I don't know.

My father played no actual part in this fantasy though I've had many dreams of him. In such, I fight with him, mostly about religion. I sometimes castigate him for pretending to be dead, deserting us, hurting my Mama and me, and/or for having affairs. In some dreams and these are actual dreams while I'm sleeping, I am close to him. I am secure and understood by him. Sometimes I am with him intimately but feel guilty because it is wrong and for my mother's sake.

I put you in this fantasy to have a face and focus. I think men need faces, and to make it have more of an emotional or sexual pay off for you. If you were going to like it at all, or let it affect you I mean. Did you?

The age at the beginning of all of these fantasies and it is a series, is around 18 or University age. That is when I get kidnapped and forced into white slavery of the most debase sort. Back then I was not only doing a full load of studies I was also working with my Papa in business. I was terribly busy. Nowadays when I use this fantasy to achieve satisfaction and release, which is frequently, I think of myself as this age. So I guess it is a variable though I liked my looks and body better back then.

No the action does not take place in a real church that I know of at all. It is at the dirty industrial cavernous white slave warehouse those men have set up but some of the rooms are elaborate. There is that little church like area though. It really is like a church that area. I have another fantasy that is in a church though.

There is little correlation between what we do and this dream. I have had this dream for a very long time (decades and as far back as I can remember. It is mine and only mine. No one else made any part of it but me.

The real life sex acts I have while fantasying, don't matter. If I want to be happy, get over the hump no matter what sex I'm having, I scroll through my fantasies. When I really want to, er, come I hit this one. I particularly get off on the spanking part but I need the whole build up first, usually in order for it to work. "

She gets quiet, having finished her steak, salad and just drinks wine. She is feeling pretty relaxed waiting for further questions, orders or comments from Sir.

Sam sat silently for a while slowly sipping his wine and trying to absorb what Gwen had said. Then he said:
"Gwen, you are really doing a good job of answering my questions. Unfortunately I have a lot more so I hope you will really settle in, enjoy the wine, and just let the words and memories flow as you answer my next set of questions.

"This first masked room, am I correct that the mask mainly is there to make you anonymous and the holes you speak of are the mouth, vagina, and anus? or am I misunderstanding something. Do they, for example, spray your face with their ejaculate?

"And I am confused about what exactly is the training. What do you do better after being trained in this way than before? Or does it merely mean that you are just being made accustomed to this treatment?

"Moving onto the Fuck Poodle room, I can guess what happens, but details are important. I hope you are not embarrassed talking about this. You can, write out what you need to say if you wish. Are you still masked? Are you being Fucked doggie style? Are you to play and gambol about like puppies? Do puppies look at each other? And, again, what are you being 'trained' to do--act like puppies?

"In all these we must find out the applicability of the words embarrassment, humiliation, degradation They each have different emphases. Which describe how you felt, what effect it had upon you, what effect it was supposed to have on you, and what effect the memories of these feeling have on you today as you re-enact these 'training' sessions in your mind. What does the experience mean to you today?"

"This is a hard task, I know, but I am counting on you to see it through with me. It can only help you to think these things through"

Sam leaned forward, and kissed her hand, first because he felt it her due, second because he wanted to, and only third because of the psychologicaL and emotional effect he knew it would have on her. Then he sat back and waited for her response.

Fi Fi The Fuck Poodle!

Gwen nods thrilled that Sir is happy. She drinks some more wine and listens to her Sir.

"Yes you got the gist of The Mask Room. It is to make us anonymous only, just things, holes to be used, not people."

In training, you learn to not fight, unless the client likes that. You learn to accept and at least feign being positively affected, unless you are told to do otherwise. Also I was taught what it felt like to achieve release so I could approximate it for others even if I was completely turned off.

I will have to write the details of The Poodle thing, I can't say out loud in enough detail I think.

The affect on me is not important to either the men in charge or the clients. I think the point of all this is that I am turned on by being degraded in my mind, not in real life. I don't know why. I think the point of the white slavery is that I don't have to consent and be responsible. The big secret is that I love it and it turns me on. I don't want it to but it does. That's what the trainers don't know, nor would they care."

She gets her lap top then and being careful not to spill her wine she says, "Ok, here goes..."

This is what she types and lets Sir read:

After being conditioned, which is a long series of things, I am taught how to be Fi Fi the Fuck Poodle.

My hair is put up in these ridiculous tight curls and stupid little ribbons are put in it. I am only allowed to wear the following items, a jeweled collar, stiletto heals and a leash.

The leash is much stronger than it would appear to be. My "handler" leads me into a room with many nasty, dirty, unwashed men, who don't really want to pay for most of the regular stuff. Yes, these are the ones, who can't decide what they want to do, so they are eventually led here. The management wants to make money off of them one-way or the other.

I am led to the most disgusting one first. I am forced, after having walked in on my hands and knees like a dog, to rise up and beg, like a dog would for the "pleasure" of cleaning his balls and penis. If he accepts he has to pay a fee. If he doesn't I will be punished. I've been punished by now. So I am doing this to the very best of my ability.

Little whining dog like sounds come out of my throat while I "sit up" and beg. The man does go along. So I work on him. I am licking and sucking at him, in spite of my personal feelings of disgust. The minute he gets erect my leash is yanked and I am forced to turn around lifting my bare ass as high as I can, in the air, and beg to be fucked doggie style or backdoor-ed. Usually the later, occurs.

So the customer gets to fuck my ass or my cunt and I have to act like I love it but that is not the end. My chain is again yanked and again I have to clean up the customer or beg to, no matter where he just was. No matter how disgusting I find him. This continues until that customer refuses further attentions. Then it is only to the next dirty scum in the room.

Each time a guy agrees to something, the people in charge get more money. They might even treat me better, perhaps even feed me. Though usually the rule is you can only have what you can get off of or out of someone’s body, for food or drink. Sometimes there are body buffets though. Those are good nights. And so I go through the room for hours and hours. Having my chain yanked nearly choking. Being told which on to do next. And I'm not always the only one in there the only fuck poodle.

She or they are also being controlled so I have some competition sometimes. At those competitive times? That the punishment and rewards are brutal!

Even though you lose count of the number of cocks you have sucked. Which can get you in real trouble later when you are supposed to tell all to “Daddy.” Even though you lose count of how many times you are choked and How many times your ass is fucked or your cunt. You lose count of how many loads have been shot into you. In spite of all that, it’s not the worst room to be in. I mean you won't die really here at least I never heard of that happening.

Often the next room is the hose room. So even when you get to feel like a mindless drone just sucking and being fucked over and over for men you previously wouldn't have bothered to spit on, that will wake you up.


She turns the computer around so Sir can read it and hands it to him.

Sam muses out loud so that Gwen can contribute her comments as they go along.

"The inner brain is signalling messages to us. It can't speak English. It acts out scenes and responses. What is itg trying to tell us?

The obvious thing is that you like sex--a lot more than is typical. If you didn't, you would avoid thinking about it so frequently and intensely.

You enjoy the idea of indiscriminate sex with many men--otherwise your fantasies would involve only one.

You know such desires are illicit and you have set things up to free yourself from guilt. Being in White Slavery frees you certainly from guilt. Being beaten makes you a victim and not a perp.

When you are masked it is true that you are being degraded into an object. You are not being humiliated very much because the men are strangers in the first place--you don't really care about their opinions of you and are protected in any case by your mask. I think the mask is more for the men than the women except insofar as it expresses the woman's secret desire for many men.

Your poodle acting is felt by you as degrading in the extreme. One immediate possible theory might be that you not only like to suck cock wherever and however you find it, but do not mind sucking filthy cock. I think it is a bit more complicated. My guess is that you like cocksucking but that the way you are being forced to do it is your punishment for liking it. You clearly feel the need for punishment. I see no humiliation here--these men are non-entities. You can only be humiliated amongst peer groups, people who good opinions you desire.

But what happens--and I believe this is important--is that degradation becomes associated in your mind with erotic stimulation. I has been the accompaniment of eroticism. No erotics without degredation (or humiliation in front of a peer). Therefore, it seems to me to be a fundamental mistake to say that women such as yourself seek degradation. Rather you seek what seems to be the natural accompaniment of erotic pleasure. Its the pleasure your want, but get used to wantiing the pain by association,

In sum, you are tied up in white slavery to be freed from responsibility to sin, and inid addition, the slavers, for their owsn purposes, not yours, serve you by punishing you for your sin, so your are saved---and you get your sex.

Gwen, if you want to disagree, contribute, or just talk about what I have said so far, please do so. Please drink some more wine--it is doing you good in more ways than one. Sit back and relax and let us then continue to peal back some more of your soul. Tell me about this water treatment business and what it means to you as you fantasize about it.

Sam could see that as they went on, Gwen was becoming tipsy. She would become even more free with a lot of hidden material. But as for sex between them later that evening, if she coninued to drink, unless he wanted to screw a corpse, that was out. He would deliver her to her home.

The Hose Rooms

Gwen listen's to Sir's fine analysis nodding in places, frowning in others.

"I agree with a lot of what you say but I do not believe I have to be degraded or be humiliated to feel erotic. At least I don't have to in real life encounters, in my mind maybe I am. See this bothers me. I know it's wrong. I'd like to be able to have sweet, romantic, sex and not think terrible things to get off. I'd like to not have to think at all. I'm bloody well exhausted from thinking so much. I want to be able to just enjoy the physical sensations, and have those alone, work for me."

She pauses and drinks some more wine as Sir bade her to do.

"Now about pain. I have rarely experienced real pain with sex. I don't like pain. Spanking when aroused? Does not really feel like pain. Pain mixed with pleasure can, I just found out today, make the whole thing more intense but I'm not sure I seek pain at all. Otherwise I tend to agree with your analysis, you have a brilliant mind don't you?"

She smiles at him then looks discomforted.

"Okay the hose room, you want to hear about it? Sod it!" She reaches for her lap top but Sir shakes his head. She looks nervous and begins to speak.

"Well the first hose room, there are two rooms, they are really about the consumers spraying their own stuff on me, from themselves. You get absolutely filthy from them. Spunk gets in your face, hair, eyes, and all over your body. There is even a tub to get in, if you are told to and it's full of men's stuff. Sometimes you have to lick and drink it off of yourself for them but it doesn't matter, there is always more to cover you, and nearly drown you. Men sometimes push me below and I sputter, panicking. They seem to love that.

In any case, any consumption is a treat, when you are starved. No fingers or anything else but fluids are supposed to go into you in these rooms but the rules are broken frequently. Sometimes though, you are held down, opened up with a speculum and literally filled to near bursting. It gets me hot to think of being covered, drowned, and consuming all that." She blushes deeply and set aside her wine.

"The second hose room is more of a relief because you can get clean. Still the water pressure is enormous. The guys, nearly always the customers are guys, some of them are really sadistic. They aim these really strong pressured hoses at you. Surprising you and laughing when they spray your face, sometimes aiming lower and the water then, can excite. The temperature can be changed, from icy, to medium, to almost hot enough to produce burns, they love to play with that. I think it is the shock and tears they are going for and getting off on. It's rather like a gauntlet of hoses and wielders, only you can't leave, there is no out, until your handler signals you. You get a huge adrenaline rush, it's fight or flight time but you can do neither, because you're not allowed. It's one of the few rooms girls actually can achieve satisfaction in. The hoses aimed low, the pressure and temperatures can bring a girl to fruition."

"What does it mean to me? It means I like the idea of baths and things with a man's spunk, but can't do that, so I dream of it. I like water on me, in real life, particularly certain parts. I like temperature extremes. The rest is the same, it's multiple men, degrading, nonconsensual, and in a way, being saved from my own impulses and sins."

"What do you think, Sir?" Gwen asks.

Sam listens to this in every increasing stunned silence. The stories have been increasingly horrific. Anyone who must live with these fantasies--thoughts that they themselves have created and torture themselves with--must be waging a continuous titanic inner struggle--A life and death struggle of the soul.

Sam realizes that Gwen is both very tough and very fragile. To lead a successful business and fairly normal life against these odds, is a great achievement and tribute to her toughness. But like a large rock that can drop and simply split in two, she can be mentally split suddenly and with the most terrible consequences by the inner tensions with which she must continually cope.

Sam is afraid to speak at this point. She is very vulnerable now that she had admitted these thoughts out in the open. When he does talk, it must be with great care and preparation. He feels an overwhelming responsiblity.

How much effect will his words have? He is not sure. The clue is in the last part of the fantasy where, it is quite clear to Sam if not to Gwen, that he has been given the role of judgmental society as well, to some degree, of her father, and even to some degree of the men who have degraded her in sex. What potent and unstable mixture and where might she go with it?

He determines not to speak until this last question is explored and he knows better where and how he stands with her. Sam says,

"The bravery you have shown in telling me and your more conscious self this story, and in so readily admitting its implications, is exceptional. But, I must demand of you even more bravery--if you feel up to it--I know you must be emotionally drained. Let us go over the last part, with the Daddy figure. Tell me further details, additional thoughts that come to mind as you tell it, and any interpretation you might begin to see. Only then will I feel that I may be able to sat something that does you no harm and may even help you.

"Please, Gwem, be certain that nothing you have said has diminished in respect, my admiration and feelings for you. Do not fear rejection from me. It will not come. Aid yourself by beginning to cleanse your soul, by exposing these fears to the light."

"Please go on, if you can. But you want to wait, if you are too tired, I will carry you home."

"Sir! I told you all of it. All of the details. I don't know what else to tell you. I am not tired. I was hoping we could be together again today." She colors and shrugs.

"Okay, it's a simple story. An authority figure is making me feel controlled but because he has such mastery it makes feel safe in a way, makes me want to bind myself to him. I want to be with him only and out of there." She looks sad and shakes her head.

"He isn't there for that. I am not really anything to him. That's all I can think of to say about that. Are there specific questions you want to ask?" Gwen looks up at Sir with her big green eyes.

"And would you guess that authority figure is somehow me? And that I am just playing with you and will leave you after you have no use for me?
Is that it?" Sam asked.

"Sir, the deal with you by your own words was supposed to be casual, discrete, encounters They were not supposed to continue indefinitely. No strings were the words you used. At this point with the feelings I have for you? Feelings I did not expect to have? Yes that terrifies me. Am I supposed to believe the entire premise of what you want has changed? If so, what do you want now and what has caused the change?" She gets a very worried look in her eyes.

"You do know that each time I see you I think it could be the last don't you? That each moment I'm with you I expect to be summarily dismissed at a whim?" Her eyes fill with tears.

"This fantasy is not about you though. Or at least it hasn't been for the past two decades." Her voice is shaking now.

"It's just about me. No one else."

Sam declares himself

Well, Sam understood enough of what each had said to each other to now feel pretty lousy about himself. He had evidently been breaking this poor girl's heart without even realizing it despite all the signals she had been sending him. He had been out of practice dealing with romantic (really? romantic?) situations for forty years--at least that was his excuse for being so pig-headed with Gwen. He wanted to get their relationship straightened out.

"Gwen, as far as I am concerned, I will never let you go and if you let me go, I shall be devastated. Yours will undoubtedly be the last attachment to a woman I will have in my life-time. Do I understand your feelings correctly? You are not merely playing at being my submissive in our little sex-games, but you want to become, in effect, as a submissive wife to me with all that implies about mutual love, care, and understanding. (Only legalities will be missing--we will remain legally independent.)

And you feel that I can help you escape the tyranny of your fantasies. And you want me to do so.

If this is true, then we need speak no longer about these fantasies this evening, but let us get up and return to your office. For I strongly feel that to consummate this new understanding, I will have to apply to you come corrective spankings (sorely ignored in our relationship up till now), to establish solidly certain matters between us, and then go on to any further acts necessary to soothe your troubled mind."

Sam then waited to see if Gwen gave him a smile, and rose and beckoned him to leave the table with her.

Gwen bursts into tears, goes over to Sir and hugs him like she will never let go. An emotional dam has burst and her tears show it.

"Really? Yes, I'd like that. I'd like to continue. I'd like to go back to the office if it means we get to be intimate. I just am surprised that you care for me that much." She painfully says through her sobs while she clings to him.

Sam and Gwen were driving back to her office a short time later. Both were excited at prospects of things to come but Sam, as usual, was quiet and in deep thought. Finally he said to Gwen,

"We must develop a way to handle spankings. You love them, I love them, men love them and women love them and yet all sorts of non-straightforward ways are made up to get into them. I want to spank you tonight for a bunch of my own reasons. You, would love to be spanked for your own reasons. But I have to make up a reason for spanking you!

"Now I will no longer make the mistake of asking you anything--how I should manage this, what excuse should I give for doing it, why you like, and so on. You do not like to think about these things and it shows in your answers.

"We have, tonight a temporary expedient. There is only one way in which you were a bad girl tonight (that I know of)and should be spanked because you did not follow your master's orders exactly. I told you I wanted you in frilly, silky undies that I could get my hands and dick into and you put on thongs--the least frilly and silky things on earth. You did not follow my orders--perhaps purposelly (one can never tell with women). Of course I do not believe a grown lady should be spanked for such a reasons--the constitution would not allow it-- but I really do want to spank this grown lady's luscious ass tonight.

"So this is what I want you to do. When we get to the office you are to assume that "eyes cast down" expression you do so well, approach me in my throne like chair, and present your ass to me as I like it done. In the course of this you should explain that you deserve a spanking for the reasons I have given. You beg for correction. Then stand there and wait. Suitably put in a humiliating and degraded position only we should enjoy (hopefully).

"Maybe I will give you the little girl treatment, as you seem to like it in your fantasy, in which case you may be put in a corner.

"How does that suit you? Just nod, if, as I assume, you wish to avoid using all these nasty terms out loud.

"Then when we are both heated up, we wil make great love.