A Little Slut Girl - PART 1.

As I knelt there, on the cool wooden floor, hands bound behind my back and ears pricked for the slightest bit of movement, I wondered how in the hell I’d ended up here.

It had started a week ago – that was when I had first heard the whispers, the whispers of someone who could finally give me what I had needed for so long. I reached out nervously, sending her an email to see if any of this could be real. And, much to my shock, she replied.

When she asked me what it was I was looking for, I had to admit that I had no idea. I knew there was this burning, flickering need deep inside of me for something – something more than was in my life right now, at least. Something feminine. Something womanly.

But I had never been able to admit to myself that that was the case. I had done so well to ignore those feelings whenever they came up. It wasn’t that I didn’t want women – I would look around the street sometimes, and find my gaze falling on at least a handful of women I wanted to kiss and touch more than anything in the world – but I had no idea how to go about explaining my very specific desires to them. Because I didn’t want a woman on the same level as me. I wanted one a thousand miles above, circling the sky over my head, reminding me at every opportunity how far below her I was. And that’s why I decided to get in touch with Mistress Victoria.

Her title suited her. Anyone else it might have felt as though they were putting it on, playing the role that was required of them, but if she had told me that she had been born with that name I would have believed her. She carried herself with a such a commanding presence that I never dared to question where she had earned her title, but I didn’t need to. I just needed to remember that was the way she wanted me to address her, or face the consequences for my insolence.

We had agreed upon the appointment date and I had spent the week leading up to it shaky and nervous and terrified, but certain that this was what I wanted. We had discussed a little of the things I would and wouldn’t do; my hard limits, my safewords. But I could already feel through the brief, clandestine messages we exchanged through my laptop when no-one was looking that she could read me perfectly. She was somehow already perfectly in sync with me, and she had never yet laid eyes on me. I could only imagine what it would be like when we met in person.

She laid out to me what I should wear to our first meeting and I made my way across the city in a light, loose dress that fell just above my knees and a pair of slip-on shoes. I had no underwear on – no bra, no panties, no nothing, and even standing on the subway like that I felt as though I might explode from the pent-up desire inside of me.

I arrived at her place and made my way down the stairs to her dungeon; it was just the way she described it, and I would have recognised it anywhere. I paid, signed in, and was whisked through to the dungeon before I could really think about what was going on. Maybe that was for the best; I had a habit of overthinking at the best of times, but this keening need inside of me was begging me to go and do this, already. I wasn’t sure how long I’d been waiting for a woman like Victoria but now that I was here and moments away from meeting her, it felt as though I was on the brink of getting something that I didn’t know I’d needed this entire time.

I was standing there, stupidly, in the middle of the floor when she emerged. Even if I had never seen a picture of her before in my life, I would have known that it was her. There was no mistaking the way she carried herself, the way she moved across the room towards me. My eyes must have bugged out when I laid eyes on her for the first time, as a flicker of amusement passed across her face. I wondered how many times a day she got that look, even from people who had worked with her before. I couldn’t imagine ever getting over the thrill of seeing her like this.

She was tall, or maybe it was just the way she made me feel so tiny that made her seem tall by comparison; short, blonde hair fell in waves down to her shoulders, and her eyes flashed as her face was briefly illuminated by the soft lighting around me. I couldn’t take in the dungeon; I didn’t need to. All I needed to know was that she was here with me and that she was going to guide me through all of this. I felt as though the ground had tipped out from beneath me, threatening to throw me off my feet. I had no idea what to expect from the next few hours, but I knew that they would be everything I’d been looking for. Dressed in figure-hugging latex and a pair of black, slim stiletto heels, she somehow made the get-up look as though it would have been perfectly natural even in a ballroom at the fanciest party of the year.

“You must be my new submissive,” she remarked, and I automatically extended a hand to introduce myself. She looked down at the hand, and then back up at me, and shook her.

“You don’t get to touch me yet,” She explained, and then pointed to a spot on the ground marked by a black “X” laid out with marking tape.

“Kneel,” She ordered, and I did as I was told at once. It felt so good, to give up control like that. Hell, I wondered if I had ever truly been in control in my life before this moment, or if all of this, all my life, had been her leading me into this.

“Hands behind your back,” she went on, confident. Her voice rang out around the room and somehow sounded exactly as I’d imagined it would and completely different at the same time. I did as I was told, and a few moments later I felt the harsh bite of rope as she secured it around my wrists. I closed my eyes. I couldn’t believe this was happening. And it had only just begun.

She walked around me a couple of times, as though inspecting her handiwork. I opened my eyes to look up at her, and she shook her head.

“No looking,” she ordered. “Or I’ll have to blindfold you.”

I closed my eyes again at once, frustrated at myself for getting it so wrong already.

“I expect you to follow every transgression with a “Sorry, Mistress,”” she explained, and I could tell even though my eyes weren’t open that she was so close to me, so close that I could have leaned forward and touched her.

“Sorry, Mistress,” I repeated at once. The words felt good on my tongue, an atonement for all I had done wrong.

“Is this your first time with a woman?” She asked, getting back to her feet. I longed to open my eyes and look upon her, but I kept them shut. She would know if I cheated.

“Yes,” I replied, then quickly remembered my place. “Mistress.”

“Good,” she remarked, and even now, this early on, I felt a shudder of pleasure knowing that I had done something right. She moved away from me for a while, long enough that my knees started to hurt, but eventually she returned. She put something in front of me, something heavy that landed on the wooden floor with a thud.

“Lean over the horse,” she ordered. “Don’t open your eyes.”

“Yes, Mistress,” I agreed at once, and leaned forward slowly, until I could feel the cool leather of the horse pressing up against my body through my skin. My ass was in the air, my dress threatening to slip down my hips and expose me completely; I could feel that I was already dripping wet, just at the thought of everything she had coming for me.

She pushed up my dress, and it was the closest thing she had come so far to laying her hands on me. She must have known how badly I craved her touch – this was part of the game, refusing me the pleasure of her bare skin on mine. The cool air hit my pussy, my ass, and I felt it tingle all the way up my spine. How had I held back on this for so long? All this time, I had longed for a dominant woman, and now that I was here, even this soon in, I knew I had made the right choice.

She brought something down with a hard slap on my ass – it sent a sharp judder through my system, taking me by surprise, and I let out a yelp of pain as it flooded my system.

“This is a paddle,” she explained, letting the flat wood rest on my ass. “Not my most brutal tool, but we’ll work up to it. Every strike, you thank me. You understand, slut?”

“Yes, mistress,” I breathed. “Thank you, mistress.”

She landed another hit on my behind, making me jump again, but I hurt less this time. Maybe because I knew that she enjoyed doling these out to me. My heart was racing desperately, my entire body sensitized to every single movement.

“Thank you, mistress,” I blurted out. I wondered if it would hurt to sit tomorrow. Maybe that was how she wanted me, suffering after our afternoon together. As if I would ever forget her.

Another slap. I thanked her again. Another. And another. I was helpless to stop her, hands still bound tightly behind my back. I could just about wriggle my fingers, but that was it. She had me completely at her mercy, and there was nothing I could do to stop her. I closed my eyes and let the blows rain down, thanking her profusely after each one, the pain beginning to bloom and hold after each strike. I started to wince as she hit me, but the shuddering agony of each strike felt good – almost like a relief of some kind. The pain and the pleasure mingled in my head, making me nearly drunk with desire, until I could barely get out the words that she needed to hear from me.

“Thank you,” I gasped after the last one. “Mistress…”

She halted the rain of blows for a moment, and I could hear her breath, coming a little faster than before. She seemed satisfied with how she had me for the time being, good and beaten raw. But this was only the beginning; I could feel the promise of it crackling in the air.