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Old 09-29-2012, 02:19 PM   #1
wasSheldon
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Join Date: Sep 2012
Location: Ontario
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Default You Get what You Give...

M/f

You Get What You Give

What happens when the tables are turned on an expensive dominatrix?

Some people work a part time job to make ends meet in university. Some people take out mountains of student loans they'll be paying off for the rest of their lives. Some people get scholarships, or get everything paid for by their parents. Some people work as an escort.

Not many.

But if you want something badly enough...well, you figure out a way to make it happen, right? So at eighteen, when my psychotic mother decided to boot me out of house, I found a way to make it through university.

For four years, while getting top marks in my premed class, I worked as a dominatrix, a dark secret I've never revealed to any one close to me.

The work usually involved going on a date or to some function with a wealthy man, posing as a 'friend', or a girlfriend, then later, behind closed doors, humiliating and punishing that same powerful man—and getting paid well to do it. It was easy money, for the most part. After all, *I* was not the one being subjected to anything degrading.

I was planning on continuing this gig until I started my residency, but about a week after I graduated, I decided to call the dominatrix thing quits.


I had gotten my financial house in order, built up my credit, and finished undergrad. Life was coming together for me, so I was exuberant the Friday night I met my newest client, Lance.
He was a young neurosurgeon, and my assignment was to be his 'friend' for an MS fundraiser. Usually, I found these things rather boring, but Lance's field really sparked my interest, and for most of the night I listened to him speaking animatedly about the quirks of cutting people's skulls open and messing around with their grey matter. Interesting stuff.

And part of the reason he was so captivating, I must confess, was his commanding (and, attractive) appearance. He was a big man, at least a foot taller than myself, even in three inch heels. He had a sharp, Nordic facial structure, a well-trimmed beard, and, my, did he smell good...But the part about him that was most imposing was his icy blue eyes, which seemed to be staring right into my brain throughout our entire conversation.

When we departed in his Porsche, I found myself disappointed that I would now have to spend the rest of the night dominating him, and creatively ensuring his humiliation. But I resolved to do my best, not only because it was what I was getting paid for, but also because I hoped to see him again.

His house was nice, but not lavish, and furnished in a modern, cold fashion that left me uneasy as he showed me about.

“You can hang your purse up in here,” He gestured inside a coat closet, and I dropped the designer bag inside. When he shut the door he asked, “Would you like to see the playroom, now?”

He seemed greatly amused, not embarrassed like most of the guys I saw, and he led me up the stairs, to a door at the end of a hallway.

“Ladies first,” I entered the room, which was rather large, and he shut the door behind us, and I heard the click of the lock.

The playroom was rather impressive, an imposing wrought iron bed in the center of the room, a door to the right, and a large wooden table on the left, with an assortment of goodies laid out.

“Quite an arrangement.” I approached the table, and examined the formidable array of devices. There were police-grade steel handcuffs, rope, duct tape, and a spreader bar lined up on the left side of the table, and numerous toys on the right, as well as implements including a thin leather belt, razor strop, and a rather scary-looking cane.

My eyes fell on an alarmingly large butt plug. Holy crap. After a minute of hesitation, I picked up the belt, turned around, and cracked it against my palm, getting into character.

“Take off your clothes.” I commanded in my domme voice. The man before me smirked, as if he found this hilarious, and I froze for a minute, having never encountered this sort of thing before. Was there something on my face?

“Get those clothes off right now, or you'll be sorry.” I repeated, cracking the belt again, and taking a step toward him. He didn't move, and I was so flustered I broke character.

“Am I doing something wrong?” This was most puzzling.

“I think you're the one who should be taking off her clothes.” He said, taking a step toward me, and snatching the belt from my grip. Nonplussed, I took a moment to formulate a response that would emphasize my control.

“Drop that, right this instant, and bend over the bed.” I growled, turning around to reach for the cane. As I reached down to pick it up, the belt cracked across my rear, and I cried out in surprise. My face flushed and I whipped around angrily, completely breaking character.

“Don't do that. I don't know what you're playing at, but you don't get to hit me.” He didn't apologise.

He cracked the belt against his own palm and repeated my command:

“Drop that cane, and bend over the bed.” He growled, catching me completely off-guard. I dropped the cane, completely confused.

“Wait a minute. I think you may have misunderstood my services.” I began inching toward the door. “I dominate my clients, not vice verse. I'm sorry you misinterpreted--”

“I didn't misinterpret anything.”

“What?!”

“I said, I didn't misinterpret anything.” He eyed me sternly, and I felt like an errant child, “This will go a lot better for you if you cooperate.”

“Are you kidding me? I'm not up for this, sorry,” I made to leave, but he seized my elbow and began dragging me to the bed.

“What the fuck!” I tried to break free, but he had an iron grip on me, and chuckled at my attempts. He sat on the bed, and dragged me face down over his lap, despite my profuse cursing.

My heart was racing in my chest. It was a familiar position, but I had never expected to be on the receiving end, and I now understood how embarrassing it could be.

“Let me go!” He didn't let me up. Instead, his hand came down across my dresses' fabric, making a loud sound, and I instinctively reached my right hand around to block his hand. A classic error, which resulted in my wrist being swiftly pinned to the small of my back, followed by another loud slap. My face was beet red at this point: I had never been so humiliated in my life.

“What the fuck!” I screamed as the spanking continued. The dress was absorbing most of the force, but my ass was still beginning to sting. After a minute, my anger transformed into a state of panic. I was in a complete stranger's house.

A complete stranger who enjoyed spanking me, had a selection of scary sex toys, and an entire night before people would come looking for me. I began screaming for help at the top of my lungs.

“Stop screaming.” He warned. I should have listened. After a few seconds, as my voice turned hoarse, I felt him flip up my dress. I stopped screaming, but he continued, pulling my panties down to my knees, exposing my bare bottom to his icy gaze. I was completely mortified.

“I told you to stop screaming. This is going to hurt.” I tried to kick free, to no avail. Then the real spanking began.

Without the coverage of the dress and underwear, the slaps were embarrassingly loud, and the stinging turned into a burning sensation, as if my backside was being held to flames. I had never been spanked in my life, and had no idea how painful it could be. It hurt like hell, but I was determined not to cry, or to give this asshole the satisfaction of so much as a single 'ow'.

It was getting really bad. My eyes were watering from the harsh stinging sensation, and I was clenching my teeth to prevent myself from crying out with each smack. Finally, just as I was on the verge of breaking down, he stopped. He continued to hold me in position, and whispered in my ear.

“Are you ready to cooperate, or am I going to be using the belt on your ass?” I wanted to scream in his face, but a refusal or an outburst would result in even more pain. There was no way I was going to be able to get away; he was way too strong. I would have to play along, make it through whatever this asshole had planned.

“Yes.” I whispered, sighing. He spanked me again, and I yelped in surprise.

“Yes, what?” He demanded. I wanted to gouge his eyes out.

“Yes, sir.” My voice was dripping contempt.

“Good girl.” Jackass.

He released my wrist, and instructed me to strip. He watched me the entire time, making sure I felt completely ashamed.

I was forced to step out of my heels, and he admired my body, ordering me to strike various nude poses while he watched with a smirk.

“You have a lovely body, Andi. You should see how red your backside is.” Tears of shame were threatening to escape my eyes, and it took all my willpower to prevent myself from crying. “Now, I want you to stand right there for a minute while I get something for you.”

He walked over to the table and grabbed what looked like a length of chain, and brought it over to where he was making me stand. It took me a moment to register what it was.

Nipple clamps. And not the wimpy kind.

I stepped backward, threw my hands in the air, and begged.

“Wait! Please don't use those on me...just let me go home!” His face darkened, but he didn't strike me.

“You have three seconds to get back over here, or I'll make sure these are the least of you worries. One...Two...” I stepped back into place, shaking with rage. I managed to keep myself from screaming at him, but my hopes at staying composed evaporated after he affixed the first clamp on my right nipple. It was vicious.

“Ahh!” I pulled back instinctively, eyes watering. This was far worse than the spanking. “Take it off! Please take it off!” I whined, eyeing the second clamp in his hand with horror.

“Hold still.” The second clamp was just as bad, and tears began to roll down my cheeks. It took all of my willpower not to reach up and take the things off, which I knew would be a poor decision. The pain remained intense, but I was beginning to adjust.

“Good girl, now go lay down on the bed, face-up, with your hands on your head.”

I did as I was told. At least the bed was comfortable. It looked like I would be spending some time there. As I waited for him to introduce whatever wonderful thing he had planned next, my mind raced.

The door was at least fifteen feet from the bed, and he had reacted too quickly during my last attempt to leave. Maybe if I could disorient him? Before I could think of a way to disorient a man twice my size without seriously endangering my nipples, he got on the bed, and attached my right wrist to the bed with the handcuffs.

They were Smith & Wesson cuffs, the same type I had used numerous times on my clients. I always thought of them as a nifty restraint, never realised how uncomfortable they could be.

He forced my legs apart, attaching them to the spreader bar, and ending any hopes I had of making it out of this mess intact. Who the hell was this guy? Did he think it was okay to essentially kidnap me?

“You know you'll get in serious trouble if you do this. I have people that will be looking for me. You'll end up in prison.”

“That may be so, but I'll at least get to have my fun with you first, won't I?”

“So you don't care if you go to jail?”

“I don't think that has any bearing on what I'm going to do to you. Whether I get caught or not, I'm still going to play with you tonight...” Things were not looking up for me, but my mind still raced for a solution, refusing to acknowledge the reality that I was way out of my league here.

“This isn't right. This is rape!”

“Not yet, it isn't.” The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. Then he touched me.

I'd been going through quite a dry spell, practically collecting cobwebs, so his touch commanded my complete attention.

“Don't!” He slid his finger in to me, and I tried clumsily to escape his hand. He acted quickly, holding me down with his other hand, shoving another finger into me. I tried to draw my legs together, but the bar held them firmly apart and left me completely vulnerable.

My body was beginning to respond, and I cursed aloud as he began pumping the fingers in and out rhythmically, causing simultaneously a wave of shame and unwelcome pleasure. Just as I began to adjust to the stimulation, he plunged his large cock inside of me.

I screamed; he rammed into me again, using my shoulder as a grip to ensure deeper penetration.

“NO!” I beat him with my free fist, trying to find a soft spot in his torso. His thrusts were way too rough, and any pleasure I had been receiving was overridden by intense pain whenever he slammed himself into me.

He was grunting, completely ignoring my fist, slapping my thigh as he gradually built up speed. The tears were returning, and my pleasure began to build once again, toward the most humiliating orgasm of my life...

“Goddamn you!” I cried, closing my eyes.

I came before he did. It was intense, washing over me like a tsunami, sweeping all the pain of the clamps and fucking into the background as my body twitched with ecstasy.

It took me a moment to recall the circumstances of the situation, but when I did, he was still raping me, pounding me as he worked his way toward his own orgasm. I froze in disbelief of my own body's betrayal, unable to keep from crying in shame.

By the time he came inside of me, moaning with triumph, I was sobbing.

He collapsed on top of me.

“God, you are one tight cunt!” He laughed, then slapped my thigh.

I tried to stop myself crying, but I just choked up with tears again.

“Seems to me like you enjoyed that.” He taunted as I cried.
***

I'm not sure how long he left me there. I managed to calm myself down, perhaps distracted by the increasing discomfort of the clamps. Of course, I could take those off with my free hand, but I didn't think he'd appreciate it very much. The last thing I wanted to do was make this man angry. I was sore, and the spreader bar was obscenely uncomfortable.

When the door clicked open, I had to ask.

“Please, will you let me go? I won't tell anyone about this!” He smiled.

“Not a chance.” As he approached the bed, I begged him to remove the clamps. He just laughed, and climbed in beside me. I glared daggers at him.

He ignored me. He released my legs from the bar; I immediately closed them, sighing in relief. His hand grazed over my skin while I cringed, blushing with shame.

“Now, turn over.” He commanded, but I hesitated, filled with dread.

“Please, no.” I panicked.

“Turn over, right now, or I'll grab that cane.” He growled, and I immediately turned over onto my stomach, groaning at the increased pressure on my nipples. He quickly lifted my hips up, shoving a pillow under them, so that my ass was raised into the air, and even more pressure placed on my chest. Ouch.

“My, you have such a lovely bottom.”

“Please--” I felt him spread my cheeks, then chuckle. I could feel my face turning scarlet.

“Just as I suspected. The woman who makes a living from the degradation of others is too good for anal sex.” He probed a finger gently against my anus, and I cried out in shame.

“Please, not that.” I pleaded, shaking with terror. “I'll do anything else.”

“Not what? What don't you want me to do?” The asshole wanted me to say it, to get his rocks off.

“Please don't fuck me in my ass.” I muttered, my face burning.

“What was that, I didn't quite catch it.” I sighed, clenching my teeth.

“Please don't fuck me in my ass.” I said loudly, my terror quickly being replaced by anger.

“Why shouldn't I?”

I paused, trying to collect my thoughts. His finger once again brushed gently against me, and I reflexively clenched myself.

“Please, I've never done that before...” I whispered, “Please.”

There was a momentary silence, and I closed my eyes in anticipation.

“I've taken your request under consideration, but..” Suddenly, I felt his rock hard member pressing against my anus. I reached back, swinging my fist blindly, but he quickly pinned it against my back, and held me firmly in place.

He plunged himself into me, ramming passed my tightly clenched muscles with horrifying brutality.

I screamed in agony, thrashing about, desperately trying to escape the cock shoving its way inside of my anus. The pain was by far the worst I had ever felt.

“Just wait, I'm not even inside of you...”

I cried out, as he continued to shove his way inside my rectum,
his large cock destroying my virgin ass while I screamed for mercy.

“GAAHH!” He buried himself completely inside my ass, little by little, grunting as he inched his way past my anus, deeper into my rectum, rock hard cock triumphantly defeating my body's resistance.
To my horror, I lost control of my bladder, peeing myself uncontrollably in response to the overwhelming agony.

He laughed as the warmth spread beneath me. I began to sob, no longer concerned about my composure. He paused, holding himself completely inside of me.

“How does that feel, cunt? How does it feel to take my dick right in your pretty little ass, you upstuck bitch!” Unbelievably, he shoved himself even farther inside, until I could feel his scrotum pressed firmly against my labia.

I sobbed, while even more pain wracked my body.

“God, please stop! Jesus Christ!” He laughed at my misery, still holding himself inside of me, ensuring I felt completely conquered.

Then he pulled himself back, and rammed into me again.

“Ah!” I sobbed, as he began to fuck me for real. My body jerked with immense pain each time he slammed into me, and I cried out, begging for mercy. His pace began to pick up, and I could hear his ragged breathing over my mournful whimpers.

“God, you have one tight ass!” He began to ram his cock into me even harder, each thrust not only causing horrific pain in my rectum, but also a sharp pain from the nipple clamps.

“Stop!...It hurts!...Please!” I begged, but he kept pounding my ass with punishing force, as if he were doing it more for my pain than his own pleasure.

“Damn right it hurts, you pathetic whore!” He yanked on my hair, pulling my head back, as he continued.

“I love it when you whimper, bitch!”

Simultaneously, the room was filled with his grunts and my cries for mercy, as the man began to approach orgasm, while I could do nothing but absorb him.

“Fuck yeah!” As he climaxed, he shoved himself fully inside of me, shooting his load straight into my unwilling ass.

He collapsed, sighing in pleasure, while I cried into the blanket.

The humiliation—far worse than the vaginal rape—was every bit
as devastating as the pain. This was something that I had never been inclined to do, even when my boyfriends pestered me nonstop. He did it without asking, without any regard for my consent, and I hated him for it.

My night was only just beginning.
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