Written by jandb2008

BDSM
24 Mar 2009


I was born to it. It's in my blood. My father and his father before him perfected the craft. I simply apply what they taught me.

All women love sex. Some simply don't know it. Others are afraid of it. They are afraid of their darker side, their carnal lust, their wholesome desire to be subjugated. As their master it is my duty to help them achieve their full potential, help them to be perfect sex slaves.

You need a keen eye to select a true submissive. Often they don't appear that way. The cocky blonde at the bar, flirting outrageously and rebuffing all advances might seem an unlikely candidate but trust me: with the correct handling I can break her.

I lassoed a perfect specimen last week. She's currently undergoing training. Beautiful in a typical Irish colleen way, long dark curls, vivid blue eyes, flawless skin and with a body made for fucking. I saw her in a bar down town but maintained my distance. I made eye contact, just enough to let her know I might be interested but I didn't hit on her. I like to study my prey. This one was cautious. She didn't preen or toss her mane like a wanton slut. Instead she blushed when she saw me looking. I like them demure. It increases the pleasure when eventually they submit and beg to be fucked.

Later, in a nightclub, I bumped into her again, the way you do. I was friendly but not fawning, courteous but distant. It piqued her interest. I knew it would. She willingly agreed to dance a slow set with me and when I let my hand brush against her ample breasts she didn't shy away. Pulling her close I could feel her nipples harden against my chest. She was braless and a gentle caress down her buttocks confirmed what I already suspected, she was wearing a g-string.

She sighed when I stroked the back of her neck. Lifting her face to me, her mouth opened just a little. Her Bambi eyes peered at me, expectantly. She wanted me to kiss her. Instead I lowered my head and nuzzled her neck. It's best to stoke their lust slowly so that their gnawing need to be fucked unleashes their primal instincts.

When I suggested we go somewhere more private she did not hesitate. In the back of a taxi on the way to my place I fondled her pussy. Initially she pushed my hand away.

"Not here," she whispered so the taxi driver couldn't hear.

"Yes here," I insisted.

Tone of voice is vital. They must learn from the start who is Master. She didn't push my hand away again.

I fingered her clit, massaging her fuck juices up and down her sex lips. When I placed my fingers drenched in her musky cum against her lips, she opened her mouth and licked them clean.

All submissives are exhibitionists. I pulled the skirt of her dress up so the driver had a clear view of her dripping pussy in his mirror. Soon she was panting and shifting her hips, urging my fingers inside her.

"We're almost there," I said and withdrew my fingers, much to her frustration.

In the apartment I made myself a drink and sat on the lounge. Bambi stood in the middle of the floor, unsure of what to do.

"Strip," I ordered.

She stared at me, stunned.

"I don't think so," she stuttered, feigning disgust.

"Don't think, just do."

Submissives need direction. That's what I do. I give them direction. I teach them how they should behave. Clear directions elicit specific reactions. She started to undress, not that there was much to take off. Her silk wrap dress clung to her shapely body and when she opened the ties her heavy breasts fell loose. She let the dress fall to the floor and stood before me, naked except for her g-string and high heel shoes.

It's then you know for sure. Standing straight, shoulders back, back arched, nipples erect. They implore your approval with their eyes. They cannot help themselves. Exposed and vulnerable but ravenous for sex they willingly comply with your demands.

It's all in the handling and I am very skilled at my craft.


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