Her Journey into Submission

Brenton Darke

Description

Two sexy short bondage stories from veteran BDSM afficionado Brenton Darke, both of which are sure to slap or tickle your fancy!Her First Time:She has gone from the shy internet profile girl to a woman actively seeking to join the lifestyle. They have chatted about what kinds of BDSM activities she wants to explore, and what kinds of activities He enjoys. They know each other well, and they are ready to take their relationship to the next level, to make it real. She's still nervous, but if she doesn't take the next step, then everything they've talked about will have been all for nothing. She is ready for her first BDSM experience.Taken to School:Ever since her first submission, she has gone through a thrilling transformation with the help of her Dom. They have played quite a bit, and the series of beatings, mind fucks, tortures and torments He has put her through have been as satisfying sexually as they have been difficult to bear. But now He has given her new orders, throwing her off balance. She is to transform herself into the worst kind of schoolgirl slut, dressing as a schoolgirl slut would, acting out and misbehaving in the worst manner possible. She is used to heavy protocol play, submitting completely to Him, and letting Him guide the scene. How will she ever be able to take on the role of the slutty schoolgirl and fulfill his desire by acting like a schoolgirl brat?

Sujets

• Erotic literature

Informations

• Publié par: Andrews UK
• Date de parution: 13 septembre 2012
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781782342755
• Langue: English

Extrait

Title Page
HER JOURNEY INTO SUBMISSION


By
Brenton Darke



Publisher Information
Her Journey into Submission
Published in 2012 by Andrews UK Limited
www.andrewsuk.com
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior written consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published, and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
The characters and situations in this book are entirely imaginary and bear no relation to any real person or actual happening.
Copyright © Brenton Darke 2012
The right of Brenton Darke to be identified as author of this book has been asserted in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyrights Designs and Patents Act 1988.



Her First Time
As she locked the door behind her, the demure, raven haired beauty turned to the empty living room, making sure to remain on the tile of the entryway, and began to disrobe. First her earrings, one after the other, set upon the edge of a small table beside the door, near a length of red satin that lay over a small bulk of objects. Next her bracelets and necklace, placed beside the earrings. She was quite sure to allow none of them to touch the satin. She slid off her shoes and set them to the side on the floor, on a small mat made for the purpose. Socks followed, folded neatly and set inside the shoes. She removed her jeans, with care not to spill the pockets’ contents, folded them compactly, and placed them upon the carpet before her. Then her white linen blouse, unbuttoned and removed, and folded just as precisely as her jeans, were stacked atop them on the carpeted floor. Finally, she slipped out of her light lace bra, draping the undergarment over her shoes. Her pert breasts, nipples rigid with anticipation, bobbed gently with each movement, now they had been released. Clothed only in a pair of lace panties, matching in fashion and color with her bra, the nubile young woman felt ready. She gave a little sigh, sure she had done everything correctly. She had stopped at the gas station on the corner, per His instructions, and used the rest room, before arriving here.
Yet the aspiring submissive balked at the thought of picking up the satin cloth to reveal what lay beneath it. He had told her that doing so would be her final act of consent. Yes, she could say yellow at any time. He had clarified with her that this would mean He needed to slow down whatever it was He was doing, to see what was wrong and if she was all right. Should she say the safe word, red, at any time, He would stop the scene immediately and do His best to care for her. She knew her safe word was there for her protection, to be used at any time, but she understood the utility of yellow; unless something went horribly wrong, she would not use red.
Still, it was her first time, either with Him or at all, and she was nervous. Sure, she gave Him a capitalized appellation--He, His, and Him--but this relationship was, as yet, a fledgling proposition. They had been on a few dates, yes, and gone together for coffee many times, long before they dated, and had hung out together just as often, sometimes in this very room. They had chatted for countless hours about every single aspect of what they were looking for in this relationship, and about the smallest details too. Their negotiations were cordial, straightforward, and charged with passion, but they were clearly negotiations; He would do nothing beyond her limits. Hard limits would be respected and not remotely approached. Soft limits weren’t even to be explored this night. No, this was an evening to learn about her body, about how it reacted to the stimuli she had craved for so very long, and to learn what kind of a Dom He might become for her. And, after all, hadn’t she been so eager for tonight to finally arrive? Indeed she had. She was ready.
Goose pimples broke over her arms and upper body, spreading over her breasts, and a quickening began in the pit of her stomach, as she reached for the red cloth. He had told her she would know what to do with what lay underneath it. Gently, after brushing her fingers across the fabric, after appreciating the pleasant feel of the satin, she pulled it aside. She almost broke protocol then by dropping the cloth to the floor as she stared at what she found beneath it, but she caught herself just in time. With a few quick hand movements, she folded the cloth and placed it atop her blouse on the floor. As soon as she did, she turned her attention back onto the table, and what it held.
She could not mistake the purpose of any of the four items. The thick, black leather collar, with metal rings attached to it, went around her neck. She pulled the buckle snug, but not tight, and fastened it behind her. Rolling around her head, she tested the feel of it, and found she liked it quite a lot. Her stomach churned all the more, but in a decidedly good way, as she came to the realization. The next two items, identical wrist cuffs that matched the collar, with metal rings, went on. She fumbled a bit with the buckles, through a combination of nervousness and difficulty using just one hand, having to brace them against her legs to finish. This left her to stare at the final item on the table, the blindfold. She picked it up, weighing it in her hand and turning it about to take it in. The outside of the blindfold matched the other leather pieces she already wore, while the inside was padded with soft violet velvet where it would cover her two eyes. The blindfold had no buckle, but a black stretchy material spanned the back part of it, which would encompass her head. The fluttering inside of her intensified, seeming to branch out all along her limbs and to her head, and she smiled at the darkness of the house beyond the living room. She knew He was sitting there somewhere, watching her progress, and she was ready for Him. Kneeling gently on the tiled floor, she looked up at the darkness, smiled, and slipped the blindfold over her eyes.
The first thing she noticed was a heightened sense of hearing. A creak in the floor brought her head around to the right, where she knew a door led into the kitchen, and she thought He was walking into the living room from there. After a few seconds, though, He still had not reached her. A distant siren wailed through the city blocks somewhere out in the night. She could even hear the creak of the tiles under her as she shifted her knees. Then she noticed the smell of the blindfold. Not the sensual smell of leather, which she had noted while putting on the collar, cuffs and blindfold. No, this must be the fabric pressing gently against her closed eyelids. But she thought velvet smelled like...? Actually, she didn’t know what velvet was supposed to smell like. This was the simple scent of ordinary fabric. Still--wait, another fragrance had wafted its way to her nose. She knew it didn’t originate from anywhere near her, because it was strong, and she would have noticed it before. It was strawberries and cream, almost as if she were hovering with her nose above a bowl of it, and it was coming from the kitchen.