From: rdragon@ix.netcom.com(***)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: Cheryl's Introduction To Submissiveness 1/2
Date: 2 Aug 1996 15:38:23 GMT

	       Cheryl's Introduction to Submissiveness
				  by
			      Master J.
			       Part One

	We had spent the weekend in a sexual shoot-out with Curry and
Dana, and I discovered much about this woman I was only on the verge
of learning about.

	During the first hour of our drive back to Jersey, Cheryl was
silent, almost morose. I decided to let her stay in whatever mood she
was in and let her get out of it herself. She apparently had a lot to
think about. She wore the same blue denim skirt she had worn much of
the weekend, sans stockings, a dark blue sweater, and sneakers without
socks. She shed the sneakers during the early part of the trip, threw
them in the back seat, curled her feet under her buttocks, and put on
the same, sullen look she had started out with. I could sense that her
mind was working intensely.

	Finally, after almost an hour, she spoke. "Jim, can I ask you
a question?"

	"Of course."

	"Why did I like what happened to me with you and Curry and
Dana this weekend?"

	"Did you really like it, or are you saying that because you
feel guilty about what you did?"

	She turned pensive for a moment. "No, I really did get into
it, Jim. It's like nothing I would have ever imagined. Especially of
myself. It's like a light bulb went off in my head and, bang, I'm a
different person. How do you explain wanting to be dominated like I
was back there. I was really into it.

	And when I came," she continued with a deep red blush, "it was
like an explosion. I was turned on so completely by the experience
it's unbelievable."

	"I guess there has always been a part of me that wanted to
dominate someone, to control them completely. So it was a turn-on for
me, as well," I said.

	Cheryl smiled. "Great minds think alike," she laughed.

	"Do you think we both changed this weekend?"

	Her mind searched for an answer to my question. "Yes, Jim, I
do. Can you live with the woman you created?"

	It was my turn to smile. "I can't live without her."

	The rest of the trip was spent in small talk. A few times, she
let her skirt ride pretty well up her fleshy thighs, but being shy
about a trucker looking into the car, she quickly rearranged it,
offering me only maddeningly quick but delightfully sexy "beaver
shots" of her panty-clad crotch, being sure to look at my eyes
whenever she did to insure that her little "accidents" did not go
unnoticed. We arrived at my condo around 7:00 p.m. and carried the
bags in. When I carried the last bag through the door, I tossed it to
the floor.

	I felt tired, but not exhausted. Cheryl was in the kitchen,
fetching lemonades for us. I moved to the living and sat down on my
reclining chair.

	She came into the room carrying the drinks, smiling sweetly,
and handed me one. She turned her back and prepared to sit on the
sofa.

	"Where do you think you're going?" I asked.

	"Just to sit down," she said, a quizzical look on her face.

	"Put the drink down and turn around," I said in a firm tone of
voice.

	She looked at me again, with that knowing look and sexy smile
on her face.

	She placed the drink on the coffee table and turned to face
me. Her mouth was opened slightly. Her hair was slightly disheveled
from the windy ride in my car. The dark blue sweater was much too
loose to do anything for her breasts.

	Her legs were pale, almost white, but pleasantly slender and
graceful. She carried herself well for "older" woman of 28.

	I looked straight into her eyes and said, "Take off your
sweater," in a soft but commanding voice.

	She looked back at me for a quick moment, somewhat startled,
searching my eyes for the sincerity of my command. When she realized I
was perfectly serious, her visage changed completely. She seemed to
turn from a friendly, happy- go-lucky young woman into one who wants
nothing more than to be dominated completely by her master.

	"You mean, here, in front of you, just like that?" Her
questioning voice belied her deepest desires to do as I had commanded,
to do anything that I commanded.

	"Just like that... " I replied softly, gesturing with an
upturned palm in the direction of the bulky sweater.

	She shrugged her shoulders, as if my request was no big deal,
grasped the bottom of the sweater, and drew it up, over her head,
catching it slightly in her hair before tossing it nonchalantly on a
vacant chair. Her white cotton bra was too plain for my tastes, though
the tenseness of her nipples was already apparent through the thin
gauze. Later, we would go shopping and I would buy her the sexiest
underthings I could find. Once done, she looked at me, not straight
on, but sort of out of the corner of her eye with her head slightly
cocked.

	"I'll hold your bra for you," I said matter-of-factly.

	She blinked her eyes once, then, still eyeing me from the
side, reached behind her back and unclasped her bra. She made no
attempt to cover herself up as her girlish breasts sprung free from
their confinement and the bra straps glided silently down her arms.
She took two steps forward and, bending slightly at the waist, handed
me the cotton garment, her face blushing just slightly. I took the bra
from her with my left hand while I grasped her wrist with my right
hand, preventing her from straightening up.

	"There is nothing that you won't do for me - nothing at all,"
I said, gripping her wrist tightly, looking straight into her soft,
brown, delightfully expressive eyes.

	Her eyes searched mine for a brief moment. "I know," she
whispered, ending her words with her mouth open in an inviting `O'.

	She was mine so completely it almost unnerved me. "Go to the
corner of the room and raise your skirt up to your waist," I
commanded, letting go of her wrist. She strolled, half-naked, to the
corner I had pointed to and did as I had told her, gathering the blue
denim in her hands and exposing the silky-white panties I had asked
her to wear that morning. I let her stay like that, facing the corner,
for a good five minutes while I studied the smooth curves of her ass,
the tightly clinging undies, and long, sleek, creamy-smooth whiteness
of her subtly parted legs. Without my telling her, she seemed to
understand that she must remain thus, without speaking, without a word
of protest, until I deemed it differently. To embed this unspoken
requirement in her mind, I moved about the room as if she weren't
there, leaving her standing there like a little school girl being
punished.

	Finally, I moved behind her, close enough to kiss her soft,
brown hair, but didn't touch her. "Have you been a bad little girl?" I
whispered into her ear.

	"Yes," she whimpered.

	"What have you done, Cheryl?"

	"I let Curry take me," she replied with an obvious shiver from
head to toe.

	"You let him put his cock in something that was rightfully
mine, didn't you?"

	"Yes," she said, half-sobbing.

	"Would you have let him shove his cock in your ass if he had
asked you to?"

	"Please... don't make me answer."

	"Would you have sucked his cock?" I persisted.

	"Please, Jim... I... "

	Wanting to hurt her just enough to make my point, I reached
around and grasped her left breast with one hand, flattening it
against her chest as she gasped out loud. I then located the turgid
nipple with my thumb and index finger, squeezed the protuberance until
Cheryl cried in pain, then pulled it outward from her breast,
stretching it to its limit as she cocked her head back into the cradle
of my neck and moaned in agony and pleasure.

	"Bad girls must be punished!" I exclaimed, still holding the
nipple tightly, while I palmed her panty-clad ass with my free hand as
she continued to hold her skirt up all the way to her waist.

	I ran my hand all over the back of her silky-white undies,
squeezing the firm fleshiness beneath. Her buns were warm and tight
and felt glorious to the touch. She gasped when I shoved my hand
inside the garment and grabbed a solid hunk of her behind. She pressed
her ass back toward me, saying, without words, how much she desired to
be punished for her transgressions of the weekend.

	I released her nipple from its confinement, letting it snap
back into place, withdrew my hand from inside her panties, then knelt
behind her, my face only inches from her delectable buns. I planted a
kiss on each sweet cheek, over the soft panty-tops, then eased my
fingers into the elastic top of the undies and slowly drew them down,
exposing the perfectly divided split pumpkin, creamy smooth in texture
and alabaster- white in appearance, full and rounded, seeming to be
begging for release by whip or strap. Her flimsy panties remained
encircled around her thighs as I returned to her luscious cheeks, this
time with two hands, and kneaded the soon to be defiled flesh with my
fingertips.

	Cheryl's moans conceded her state of arousal. She was putty in
my hands now, and I shaped the halves of the twin spheres to my
liking, pushing the flesh outward, upward, side to side, prying the
cheeks apart from time to time to expose the pink rosebud, so tiny and
hidden that I remained awed by my earlier penetration of it. I took my
time and examined every inch of the fleshy globes, studied the anal
button until its vision became locked in my mind.

	The buttocks were still flecked slightly with the results of
Curry's earlier whipping.

	As I stared at her behind, I said "Your ass was made to be
whipped! It's perfect, you know. I think I am going to finish what
Curry started. Would you like that, Cheryl?"

	"YES!" she blurted, pushing the buns back toward me in an open
invitation to have at them. "Oh, Jim, I need to be whipped!!! I need
it so bad! I've been such a bad girl."

	"Don't move - I'll be right back."

	In the dim light of the early evening I went into the woods
behind my condo and found what I believed to be the perfect pacifier -
a long, thin freshly cut birch rod, about three feet long and a
quarter-inch thick. I wanted something that would sting like the devil
and remain etched in her memory from this time forward. I didn't
intend to cut or mark her in any way, but I knew I could wield the
birch in such a manner as to make her remember this evening forever.

	"Thin is cruel," I had once read in a book about flagellation,
"but only if it is done with malice."

	Returning to the condo, I found Cheryl exactly where I had
left her, standing in the corner, skirt raised to her waist, panties
lowered to her thighs, completely naked from the waist up. She was
smart enough not to turn her head and look at me. Later, when our
relationship deepened, I would learn to soak the birch rods in oil
before using them on her, intensifying their sting tenfold. Tonight, I
would lead her slowly down paths she had never dreamed of.

	"I want all of your clothes off. When I whip you from now on
you will always be naked. Do you understand?"

	"Yes, master."

	It sounded odd to hear her call me "Master," but that's
exactly what I was - her MASTER. She was my little slave! I have never
asked her where she picked up the term. I surmise in a book somewhere
and it stuck with her. It didn't matter, I watched her stand in the
corner, shed her skirt, lower her panties the rest of the way down her
legs, and dutifully clasp her hands behind her back. Having finished,
she put her cute pug nose back into the corner and waited for my next
move.

	"Open your legs more!" I ordered. "It's more becoming of your
nudity."

	The parted legs revealed the brown curls of her bush near the
top of her legs, just below the crack of her ass. She looked so
vulnerable, so sexy! I made her stay like that for the better part of
half an hour while I did nothing but stare at her fragility from the
serenity of my easy chair. She seemed almost too fragile to apply the
cruel birch rod to.

	Finally, it was she who broke the icy silence. "Jim, are you
going to whip me?" she asked, her tone revealing a little impatience
with me.

	"In time," I said softly, moving closer to her and running the
lower half of the birch rod between the supple cheeks of her ass,
splitting the halves of the pumpkin with it.

	"Oh!" she cried softly, startled by the thinness of the wood.

	"Shhh, it's a birch rod," I whispered in her ear. "Are you
sure you want to be whipped?"

	"It will hurt?" she asked.

	"More than what Curry did," I replied in all honesty.

	"You will stop if I ask?"

	"You know I will. But I don't think you'll ask." I continued
running the birch rod up and down, inside the dividing crevice of her
ass cheeks.

	She pressed her behind into the rod, invitingly. "I think
you're right, Jim.

	I really want to be whipped. I can't explain it. There's
something inside me... "

	"We shall see," I interrupted. "Open your mouth."

	"Why?"

	I touched the top of her shoulder with my fingertips and
whispered into her ear. "I am going to have to gag you for this. I
don't want the neighbors calling the cops."

	"How do I tell you to stop if it hurts too much?"

	"Just shake your head back and forth. I'll stop. Do you trust
me?"

	She turned her head back in my direction, looked at me for a
moment, and then, instead of answering, she merely closed her eyes and
opened her mouth to accept the gag. I had nothing to use save the
panties she had just shed, but they served the purpose well. I stuffed
them well into her mouth, crotch first, so she might taste her own
juices on the silky material. I then brought her to the edge of the
sofa, her hands still clasped behind her back, and had her place her
tummy over it. The position offered her ass to me in all its glory.

	Cheryl was a true submissive, every man's dream. She had
complete trust in me and I knew I could never leave her permanently
marked or scarred. I was capable of playing mind-games with her, but
her body, outwardly, would remain inviolate. It was too beautiful to
mark - her firm, full buttocks were twin spheres of gorgeous,
alabaster flesh, perfectly rounded in just the right places, a
pleasure to touch or view. Her breasts were not large by any means,
but they were capped by coral- colored, thick, pointed nipples that
extended outward in their hardened state and were, I would find out
soon enough, wonderfully sensitive to pain stimuli, so much so, in
fact, that she would often place nipple- clips on them before one of
our "sessions" in order to enhance their sensitivity.

	I drew the birch rod over Cheryl's proffered buns and ran it
back and forth, like a violin bow, for several moments, toying with
her nerve endings and building her anticipation of what was about to
happen. Her forehead was buried in the sofa cushion, with the silky-
white panties sticking out of the corners of her mouth. I lifted the
rod several inches away from the globes and held it there, watching
Cheryl clench her ass cheeks in anticipation of my first lash.
Instead, I laid the rod back across her behind and, as I pressed it
slightly into the pale skin, began moving it slowly in a path from the
top of her ass to the middle of her thighs, teasing the nerve endings
while delegating without words the boundaries the rod might enjoy.

	"Open your legs more!" I ordered, then watched her labia part
stickily between them. Her delicately hued, pink-colored vaginal
entrance was filled with transparent juices, with a few of the hairs
that had been surrounding the opening sporting tiny gobs of off-white
"cum-drops". Her toes barely touched the carpet. Her legs were sleek
and well-proportioned. Her back was already warm with a thin veneer of
glistening perspiration. Her breathing was slightly tremulous, a sign
of her anticipation.

	I merely flicked my wrist for the first stroke which landed
right in the middle of her buttocks with a louder-than-it-hurt crack
of the thin wood against the supple flesh, rippling the skin only
slightly and bringing but a quietly muffled "MMMFFFFF" from behind
Cheryl's panty-gag. A thin, slightly pink line appeared almost
immediately where the bow had stuck the violin. Her toes were curled
now as they pressed harder into the carpet.

	Buoyed by Cheryl's stoic acceptance of her first taste of the
rod, I reached back and flicked the pain-giver three times in rapid
succession, each of them with the same intensity, but all of them just
a bit harder

	than the first. I was careful to apply each stroke one below
the other.

	Having offered the last little cut, I stopped to take in
Cheryl's reaction.

	This time she made absolutely no sound, to my surprise, but
with each lovely ripple of her ass cheeks she drove her curled toes
into the carpet in quick, staccato movements, her little way of trying
to fend off the increasing pain in her snow-capped buttocks.

	I ran my fingertips over the light-colored stripes that I had
just placed on her voluptuous backside. Her skin was warm to the
touch; she shivered slightly at the tinge of gentleness. "Oh how your
ass was made to be whipped!" I exclaimed as I traced one thin line
from side to side with my index finger.

	Her breathing was becoming a bit more labored now, with
pronounced exhalations through her chest and nostrils. I pried the
lower half of the cheeks apart, exposing the anal ring, and touched
the crinkled opening lightly with the tip of the birch rod. "MMM...
MMM!" whimpered Cheryl behind the gag, afraid that I might penetrate
the tiny orifice with the thin wood. Instead, I let the cheeks bounce
back to normalcy, as I withdrew the rod from the doorway, making a
mental note that I would once again test the unbelievable resilience
of the opening with my cock later in the evening.

	With my left palm resting right at the crest of her buttocks,
just over the top of the crack of her ass, I drove the birch rod
across the tender flesh with a loud crack, followed immediately by an
agonizing, softly muffled shriek from deep within Cheryl's throat. At
the same time, she raised both feet off the floor and flailed them in
the air for several seconds. It was obvious that this stroke had been
a real "stinger."

	When she shook her head from side to side, in consonance with
her toes, I thought she was telling me to stop. "Too hard?" I asked as
I reached back and pulled the panties out of her mouth so I could hear
her reply.

	"NO!" she blurted as she panted loudly. "Oh, it hurts, it
hurts, it hurts!"

	she cried, still flailing her legs. "But please don't stop. I
can feel it building deep inside me, Jim." She breathed heavily.

	I sought to return the panties to her mouth. "No, please," she
begged, "I want you to hear me after you whip me. Can you do it a bit
harder?"

	"Suit yourself. Just remember the neighbors." I reached
further back this time, goaded by her desire to feel even more pain,
and drove the birch rod smartly into the area where her lower ass
cheeks met the top of her thighs, an area I knew to be more sensitive
to pain stimuli. I was right. She let out a long, agonizing howl,
fortunately into the sofa cushion, and flailed her legs again, her
heels actually kicking her own buttocks in the process.

From: rdragon@ix.netcom.com(***)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: Cheryl's Introduction To Submissiveness 2/2
Date: 2 Aug 1996 15:38:33 GMT

	       Cheryl's Introduction to Submissiveness
				  by
			      Master J.
			       Part Two

	Cheryl's scream lasted a good ten seconds, punctuated by gasps
for breath, followed (incredibly!) by, "Oh, YES! That's good. It hurts
so good! Give me more, Master!"

	The thin, red streak that covered each side of her lower
buttocks looked as painful as it must have felt. It welted almost
immediately, testifying to the intensity of the stroke. How could she
want more? Where was her limit? Was there a limit? If there was, I
needed to test it, and she was begging me to do so. So, without
warning, I gave her four well-aimed lashes, all of them bitingly
harsh, in quick succession, without pausing, each being delivered to a
different area of her upturned ass. To my amazement, she made
absolutely no sound until the last stroke was delivered, with an extra
fierceness. To the contrary, with each lash she seemed to raise her
behind higher in an effort to accept the searing pain. With the final
lash, she let out with a long "AHHHHHHHH!" that I knew at once was a
mixture of pain and pleasure.

	Her orgasm was unmistakable. Her entire body spasmed, her
wide- spread legs quivered uncontrollably, and her hips undulated up
and down on top of the soft arm of the sofa as wave after wave of
agony and joy coursed through her ravaged body.

	It took her the best part of ten minutes to come down from her
pain-induced high. She remained almost motionless throughout the
orgasm, save for an occasional "twitch" of her thighs or abdomen as
the after-shocks diminished in intensity. The sofa would remain
stained forever with her copiously flowing cuntal juices, and there
would be times later when I would have her return to this position and
make her add more of her excretions to the stain. Neither of us ever
mentioned the obvious damage to the sofa, but I didn't mind, and just
the sight of it would conjure up such sweet memories that I accepted
it as a hazard of our life style.

	I sat on the sofa, next to her, as she slowly returned to
normalcy.

	She looked up at me, smiled coyly, then slithered her
nakedness into my arms, nestling her head in the crook of my neck. I
kissed the hair atop her head as she curled into a fetal-like
position, my hand resting lazily on her hip. "Well, what do you
think?" I whispered.

	"Wow!" she exclaimed. "That was the most intense orgasm I've
ever had. I thought it would never stop. My buns are still tingling.
Do you have any idea how much that damn birch rod hurts, Mr.
Henderson?"

	"I can only imagine. But why did you keep asking me to do it
harder if it hurt so much."

	She brought her hand to my cheek, lovingly caressing it with
her fingertips. "Because it hurt so good," she replied. "Such pleasure
in pain, it's unbelievable, Jim."

	I ran my hand from hip to her back, which still glistened from
her perspiration, and scratched it gently. She purred like a kitten
with each soft touch. "The strange thing is that I enjoyed doing it to
you as much as you liked having it done."

	"But you didn't come, and I did."

	"I'm saving it," I whispered with a broad smile she couldn't
see, but felt. Boldly, she ran her hand between our clasped bodies and
found the semi-erect tool well ensconced in my pants. She squeezed it
playfully. "I want it so bad, Jim." Her words were enough to make the
organ stir. "Can I suck it - please?" she begged.

	Who was I to say "no" to having my cock sucked? I didn't have
to reply. She lifted herself off of me far enough to get at the belt
of my pants, then deftly undid it (with one hand, no less) and drew
the zipper down. I lifted my hips from the sofa and allowed her to
pull the pants all the way off, then followed by my underpants. My
cock, now growing, sprang free. I watched the top of Cheryl's head
slide down my body until it came to rest upon my thighs, where she had
a bird's eye view of my almost tumescent member.

	"I like it when it gets hard in my mouth," she whispered
softly as she grasped the shaft and drew it to the "O" of her parted
lips. I closed my eyes as she blithely took me in her mouth, coating
me with copious amounts of her saliva and licking the glans before
beginning a gentle sucking action that drew her cheeks inward. Almost
instantly I became rock hard as she moved her head and back and forth,
taking me deeper inside her warmth until I felt the cockhead ram the
back of her throat. She breathed through her nostrils, took a gulp,
then took me in all the way, deep-throating me as her lips chewed at
the base of my shaft, mingling with my pubic hair.

	"Mmm, I like that," I said huskily.

	Cheryl garbled something unintelligible over my well-sheathed
member, then sucked me some more. She brought her fingernails into
play soon thereafter, lightly scraping my testicles with one purpose
in mind - to give me the feeling that her only desire was to make me
come inside her mouth. I knew she would never take her lips from my
cock until I had spilled my seed deep into her throat. I began bucking
my hips in tune with her rising and falling head, which she shook from
side to side every once in a while just to alter the exquisite
feelings she was providing. I held my hand on top of head, though it
needed no guidance, and opened my eyes to watch my sword move back and
forth between her rose-petal soft lips.

	I felt the first wave of my orgasm at the base of my cock,
pushed her head all the way down on me, then let my seed blast forth
like cannon fodder, emptying myself in her throat. She swallowed every
drop, gulping down the cascading sperm like candy, never lifting her
head until she was sure I had no more to give her. Then, and only
then, did she take her lips away, looking up at me with her puppy-dog
eyes, smiling sheepishly, like the fox who had just stole the hen
house.

	She licked her lips, as if searching for more jizm.

	"Feel better?"

	She smiled.

	"You're insatiable," I said. "Is there anything you won't do
for this tired old man?"

	Cheryl laughed. "Yes. I won't let you get away. I could never
get tired of sucking your cock, or letting you fuck me, or having you
whip me. Whatever you want, Jim, it's yours for the taking. You don't
even have to ask."

	She moved up my body and curled up again, her ribs resting on
my genital area. I cupped her breast, gently, and we slept like that
till morning. When I awoke the first light of day had already broken
through the Venetian blinds, filtering its shadows on the carpet in
front of me.

	Cheryl was nowhere to be seen. I listened, then heard the
sound of running water in the kitchen. I stood up, suddenly aware that
I was naked save for my shirt, and strolled toward the area of the
noise.

	Cheryl was standing in front of the sink, already having
donned one of my tee-shirts which failed to completely cover her naked
posterior.

	The thin crack of her ass looked inviting and sexy below the
bottom of the shirt. She turned, sensing my presence. The scene was
almost comic - she immediately caught sight of my flaccid cock and I
stared straight at the light-brown hairs which adorned her lower
abdomen.

	She shrieked, as if scared, and reflexively pulled the bottom
of the tee-shirt over the pussy hairs, an act which only served to
stretch the top of the shirt over her breasts, highlighting her
seemingly always erect nipples.

	Her face was flushed. "Oh, you scared me!" she said
breathlessly, still staring unabashedly at my hanging cock and balls.
In the same reflexive gesture, I covered myself up with my hand,
though for the life of me, I don't know why. What did I have to hide
from her, she had only a few hours ago sucked the damn thing dry?

	"What are you doing, babes?"

	"I was just making some coffee," she said, obviously
recovering from her sudden scare. "Do you always walk around the house
half- naked?"

	I smiled. "Only when someone else is similarly situated."

	She looked down at the tee-shirt and realized the absurdity of
her remark. "Oh, Jim, get your ass over here."

	I walked to her and she casually threw her arms around me. We
embraced, our bodies slowly moving closer and closer together. Her
nipples felt like hard pebbles against my chest. My cock, still
unstirring, pressed against her upper thigh; her pubic hairs, soft and
warm, nestled against my thigh. My arms went under the back of the
tee- shirt. We kissed, briefly at first, before she politely broke the
kiss, and said, with a perfectly serious look on her face, "Mmm, I
didn't recognize you at first without a hard-on."

	I laughed. "It's at parade rest."

	"Ready to be called to attention at a moment's notice, I
presume." She smiled, pressing her thigh suggestively into the
softness of my manhood.

	"We haven't even had a cup of coffee and you're trying to get
me going again," I protested, but only half-heartedly.

	She giggled. "So you need a cup of coffee to get you going,
huh?"

	"I just have to look at your sexy little body and I'm half-way
there," I whispered, bring my face toward hers with lips at the ready.

	She accepted the offer, kissing me with more passion this
time, grinding her lips slowly against mine and insinuating her tongue
into the juncture to punctuate her ardor. My cock stirred immediately
against her leg and she smiled through the kiss as soon as she felt
its growing hardness. I jammed my tongue into her mouth and her
fingernails raked across my back, digging deeply into the skin.

	This time I broke the kiss. "Horny little thing, aren't you?"
I smiled. Her face spoke of her lust. She swallowed some of the juices
I had deposited in her mouth. I reached for the bottom of the tee-
shirt and whisked it over it head in one smooth motion. In that one,
quick instant she was naked as a jaybird, slightly red-faced, mouth
agape, staring into my eyes with a fiery passion. She reached down
between us and grasped my now fully erect manhood.

	"I dreamed of this big monster last night," she husked, slowly
moving her hand up and down the shaft, milking it.

	"A nightmare, huh?"

	She took a deep breath. "Oh, Jim, even in my dreams you fucked
the hell out of me! I can't get away from you." Quickly, she undid my
shirt buttons, her hands shaking slightly, before pulling it off. The
both of us stood naked, in the middle of my kitchen, looking at each
other's bodies for what seemed like a long time before we embraced
again. I was not embarrassed at all by my telltale erection.

	"Now I'm ready for my coffee," I said, holding onto Cheryl
tightly without kissing her.

	"Excuse me?"

	"I always have a cup of coffee in the morning before engaging
in sexual pursuits," I said with a broad smile.

	"Your serious?" she asked, feeling my stiff manhood pressing
against the sweet softness of her abdomen, her pubic hairs now
mingling with my testicles.

	"Would you mind? It will really wake me up."

	She pouted. "You do mean it, you monster. You're ready and I'm
ready," she said, punctuating her remark by pressing her abdomen
firmly against my hardness, "and you want a damn cup of coffee!"

	She really did seem upset, but she had to learn that it was I
who was in complete control of the situation - at all times. Yes, she
had her needs, and I would fulfill them better than they had even been
fulfilled, but it would be on my terms, in my way. I broke the
embrace, strolled to the table, and sat down, my skyward-pointing
cockhead brushing against the table cloth. Cheryl looked at, almost
dumbfounded, a rather exasperated look on her flushed face.

	"With cream and sugar," I said with wry half-smile.

	She looked so damn sexy in her nakedness, her skin white and
smooth, her girlish but firm breasts capped by her ever-hard thick,
oh- so-suckable nipples; her curly-haired bush, neatly cropped,
elegantly adorning her lower abdomen; her sleek, supple legs slightly
parted; her hands at her sides, twidgeting nervously. She stared at me
for a moment, her child-like, dark-brown, puppy-dog eyes, her most
expressive feature, showing a mixture of anger, which she was trying
hard to keep repressed, and innate submissiveness, which was written
all over her face.

	Without a word, she turned and continued filling the coffee
pot, a job she had only begun before I interrupted her. There was a
thin veneer of perspiration just above her delectable buttocks, on her
lower back. For the next ten minutes, I watched her move about the
kitchen, naked and lovely, acting just a little huffy, not trying to
hide the fact that she felt miffed about being rebuffed. When she
placed the cup of coffee on the table in front of me, she refused to
look at me. This wasn't the sort of submissiveness I expected of her.

	"Cheryl, go to the living room and bring me back the leather
belt from my pants."

	From the tone of my voice and the nature of my instructions,
my intentions were obvious. She cast an at once understanding glance
in my direction, then turned on her heels and disappeared out the
door, her ass cheeks bobbing slightly as she walked. When she
returned, nervously holding the belt, folded, in her hands, her visage
was entirely different. Gone from her eyes and face was that look of
defiance. It was replaced by that now familiar aspect of total
submission. Her face was completely flushed as she demurely handed me
the device she already knew to have a special, intended purpose. I
nonchalantly took my fourth sip of my morning coffee, so thoughtfully
prepared by this stark-naked, beautiful woman who, in one wild
weekend, had discovered her being while showing me mine.

	I placed the belt on the table, where she could see it, and
took another sip of coffee. I placed the cup in the saucer, then
looked at Cheryl. "In this house, I am in charge." My voice was firm.
She sensed the seriousness of the situation. No, this wasn't a game,
this was our reality.

	Nervously, she bit her lower lip. "Yes," she said softly,
lowering her head and closing her eyes.

	"Sexual pleasures, when I permit you to have them, will be at
my whim, on my terms, when you are deserving, and only then. Do you
understand?"

	She gulped, then nodded softly in affirmation. Her hands were
back at her side, twidgeting once more.

	"Turn around," I ordered.

	Casting a furtive but telling glance in my direction, she
quickly spun on her heels turned her back to me. I wanted to bend over
and kiss her gorgeous ass cheeks, so round and smooth and perfect, but
she had to be punished. The defiance that she had exhibited had to be
taken from her from this point forward.

	"Bend over and grasp your ankles with hands," I commanded,
then watched her perform the act which forced her to spread her feet
well apart in order to maintain balance. Not only was her behind
presented perfectly by her awkward position, the entire length of her
hairy crotch, the labia parted like rose petals to show her pink gash,
was on display in all its glory. To cap it off, her tiny, pinkish-
brown, crinkled anus was well exposed between her opened ass cheeks.
The sight kept my erection at its fullest.

	I made her stay like that, the blood rushing to her lowered
head, while I blithely finished my cup of coffee, then turned in my
seat until I was directly behind her, my cockhead pointing upward
about three feet behind her widely spread legs. I could have taken her
then and there, anally or vaginally, and my statement would have been
made, but I knew the lesson would only be learned, the correction
properly made, by the application of corporal punishment, which she
truly desired at this moment even more than penetration of one of her
body openings.

	The pungent, thick womanly smell emanating from between her
legs, and the tell-tale moistness surrounding her vaginal entrance was
ample evidence that just the anticipation of punishment was enough to
get her going. I slid the chair forward slightly, scraping it on the
linoleum floor, to gain a more advantageous position over my
submissive lover, and her body shuddered slightly with the knowledge
that the time of reckoning was near.

	I doubled the inch-wide belt in my hand, its metal clasp
digging into my palm, and said "Don't move. Hold your ankles tight,"
before raising the instrument of punishment and delivering it soundly,
from directly above her naked ass, with a loud resounding crack as the
leather bit into the creamy-white flesh.

	"AHHHHH!" she cried, feeling the first blush of searing pain
upon her right buttock. Her body lurched forward ever so slightly, but
she maintained her balance. I let her wait a moment for the next blow,
her buttocks twitching slightly in anticipation, not wanting her to
know when or where to expect it. Finally, I let her have another one,
this one a bit more sharp than the first, on the same cheek, but a bit
more toward her right hip, with the cruel belt swung in such a fashion
as to come more from the side than the top.

	She gasped loudly in pain, the shock of receiving a lash where
she wasn't expecting it, inhaled deeply, then let out with an almost
blaring, pain-admitting "OHHH!"

	I waited again, letting the pain simmer slightly, before
delivering the third stroke, which, like the first, was brought
directly down from above her buttocks, this time on the left side,
with about the same intensity as the second one. I had made Cheryl
assume the ankle-grasping position with a specific purpose in mind -
to stretch her skin tightly across her ass and thereby increase the
severity of the pain. My method worked to perfection; I watched the
taut cheeks ripple only slightly as her AHHHs and OHHHs became
longer and louder, her breathing more ragged, and lovely ass cheeks
more and more reddened from the onslaught.

	Over the next ten or fifteen minutes, I delivered at least ten
or twelve more hard lashes to her beleaguered behind, ignoring her
pleas for mercy, which she meant for effect only, and Cheryl accepted
them all with a growing understanding that I would tolerate no more of
her insolence, that any misbehavior on her part would meet with
punishment accordingly. The juices streaking down the insides of her
thighs, something I had not seen her do heretofore, flowing copiously
from her vagina, were the best evidence that the extreme pain she was
graciously accepting was as much of a turn-on for her as it was for
me.

	I placed the belt back on the table, then slid the chair
forward again, until my legs were between hers with my sword ready to
be sheathed directly beneath her gaping vagina. I placed my hands on
her hips, now coated with sweat, and gently pushed them downward.
Without a word, Cheryl raised herself up slightly, her body still bent
forward and her well-reddened ass, lightly streaked ass brushing
against my lower chest, and lowered herself onto my erection. My cock
slammed into her hot, steaming cunt with one quick jolt, to the hilt,
as her ass crushed against my abdomen.

	The act was the quickest fuck I can ever remember. I came
almost as soon as my cockhead bumped against her cervix, and I spurted
forth so much pent-up cum that I thought it would never stop gushing.
To my surprise, Cheryl came too, her cries of pleasure almost as vocal
as her earlier shrieks of pain.

	It wasn't over quite yet, however. After coming down from her
high, Cheryl raised herself off of my still erect manhood and turned
to face me. Keeping her legs wide open, she moved forward until her
crotch was above my cock again, then lowered her pussy until we were
sheathed again. Her pubic hairs mingled with mine; the cheeks of
well-warmed ass rested atop my thighs. We embraced once more, her
unbelievably hard nipples digging into my chest.

	She cocked her head sexily, a contagious smile broadening
across her face. "Wow," she whispered into my ear, "I guess I'll be a
good girl from now on."

	Her pussy was as hot as I'd ever felt it, and as wet as a
lake.

	"I guess you will," I said, returning her smile.

	She moved her head back so she could see me eyes. "You didn't
hold back," she said, an obvious reference to the force of the
whipping I had just delivered.

	"No, I didn't. Did you want me to?"

	She smiled again, the answer to my question readily apparent
in her eyes. She was pensive for a moment, then said, "You could have
whipped the insides of my thighs... or even between my legs. That
would have really taught me a lesson!"

	I looked at her in disbelief. This was more than a suggestion
that her submission was showing no limits, it was an open invitation
for more extreme punishments. "There will be other times," I said.

	"When you won't hold back." Her eyes spoke of her seriousness,
of her complete submissiveness.

	"No, I promise - I won't hold back."

	"Good," she smiled, pressing her crotch harder against me,
planting my shaft even deeper inside her, brushing against her cervix
once more.

	"Now then, would you like another cup of coffee?"

			       The End