Submitting |18+ BDSM Stories

punished

I catch his stare behind the shoulder of the man I'm dancing with. It sends a shudder through my body to only imagine the things he's going to do to me.

I disobeyed his rule.

Not only did I leave his side, but I'm also dancing with a random man from the bar.

Why?

I wanted him to stop treating me like a submissive in training. I wanted the pain he seemed unwilling to give me, the complete control over my body.

The men he's sitting with around the table start to get up, and it signals the end of their meeting.

He sends an evil smile to me.

It prickles me with fear and excitement, I walk towards him leaving the man with a sweet smile, only to spite my man further. I reach my dominant and he holds my hand like a complete gentleman.

He leans in close, his lips stroking my ear.

"You want to act like a slut? I'll strip you until every single feeling of dignity is gone. I'll make sure you end up with only the feeling of a used body made to pleasure your dominant. You'll end up in a drenched pussy from the denial of finish, I just hope it was worth it."

My underwear turns damp. Fuck.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

He twists my hair around his wrist, pushing me into the playroom like a doll.

"Strip."

That one command sends a wave of pleasure down my body. I remove my clothing, placing it in a neat pile on the floor.

I then get down on my knees, my legs spread, my chest pushed into the air with my head down and my hands on my thighs. This is the position I'm required to be in whenever we enter the playroom.

He walks around the room, the sound of his footsteps walking around the room making me tense and my pussy drenched.

I feel his hand on my scalp, massaging. Giving me a false sense of relaxation and comfort. I only begin to relax my body when he twists his hand around my hair sending searing pain through my scalp.

He brings me to the center of the room, and begins to roughly raise my arms and spread my legs.

I'm hanging from the ceiling with my arms bound by tight ropes, looping around my breasts tightly and forming intricate patterns around my body. My legs are spread with a spreader bar, every inch of me bared to his gaze. He's been gone for over 15 minutes. He wants my anticipation, the wait. My pussy gets wetter by the second, dripping down my thighs.

He returns. I can only focus on the steps of his dress shoes as he walks around the room, my eyes following him around but too riddled with fear and anticipation to look in his eyes.

Suddenly, he's behind me, covering my vision with a blind fold and further enhancing every little sound and sensation on my body, I feel him roughly grab my chin and tilt my head up.

"What's your safeword, slut?"

"Red..." Too lost in his dominating tone and degrading words, I only realize my mistake when he painfully twisted my nipple. I buck into his touch.

"Red, what?"

"Red, sir." I moaned.

He starts caressing my face,

"Now tell me, why did you decide to disobey my order? You know as well as I do that he could never pleasure you the way I do" He emphasizes his words by dragging a finger through my slit, which leaves a string of my wetness leaving with his fingers.