Perfect Mother, Perfect Slut

So, she, once again, and with an eager willingness, allowed physical bondage back into her tableaus. "When appropriate," she reminded herself, and chuckled at the use of the word 'appropriate'.

She pondered about why she found being dominated so exciting, and her own submission so deliciously inspiring. She was reminded of the movie "9½ Weeks". She was sure she understood it much better now than she did when she first saw it.

By and by, Debbie began frequenting some, apparently, more serious 'alternate lifestyle' sites, and, on free weekends, and the odd 'single' weeknight, she arranged with like-minded site members to experiment with varying degrees of bondage, experiencing – although, initially, with a somewhat light hand – the rough, sometimes severe treatment that could be served up by a dominant, or dominator. Spread-eagle on the bed; or kneeling, hands bound; or tied standing, hands suspended from an overhead beam; the bondage was served in a number of flavours. But all were rewarded with the growing delights of inflicted pain – burning-bottom sensations; welted thighs; pinched and twisted nipples.

Amazed that she had earlier thought she'd preferred more ethereal bondage over the real, physical sort, Debbie now admitted freely that she enjoyed, so very much more, being bound and gagged – the combination of physical restraint and 'punishment'. Of course, that preference was still conditional – only when the kids were not waiting for her at home; when they were with the ex, not the babysitter.

Interestingly, the idea that, in a dominance / submissive relationship, it is ultimately the sub who holds the power, was repeatedly reconfirmed in her encounters – as long as the relationships were voluntary and deliberate.

With all her internet surfing and searching, it wasn't really a surprise that, eventually, Debbie stumbled upon what seemed to be an established, serious, and apparently legitimate BDSM website called simply 'Secret Submission'. Using the charge card she reserved for on-line transactions, she applied for a probationary, associate membership or subscription. After some consideration, she submitted a short, concise profile. In it she included the fact that she was "a novice in the lifestyle," and was "experimenting with the role of submissive." She was rather pleased when, the very next evening, her profile had been accepted and posted. It gave her pause to wonder exactly how a submission such as hers was actually vetted. "No worries," she thought, dismissing the question.

Striking while the fire was hot, Debbie arranged, later that same week, a first rendezvous with someone named Edward who'd expressed interest in her self-proclaimed 'novice' status. Entering the up-scale bar, she cast her gaze about before catching the subtle beckoning gesture of a smart looking, middle-aged man. As she approached he stood and offered his hand, confirming that he was, indeed, Edward, and that she was Debbie. After ordering two glasses of wine he sat back and began, right away, to chat casually about life and the lifestyle. "What," he asked, after a bit, "are your goals and expectations, in this regard?"

Debbie found his forthright manner to be refreshing – no beating around the bush. She briefly outlined her experiences thus far. She mentioned how she was practiced at virtual bondage, and her reasons for it. He nodded sagely. His conversation was sincere – exposition and inquiry – no glib small-talk. Debbie was impressed.

Edward came across as mature and experienced, and seemed to slip easily into a mentoring role – like a role he taken many times before. During the comfortable, extended discussion, he alluded to his membership in a club, and how he used the 'Secret Submission' website to keep an eye out for candidates – possible new recruits.

Debbie had become surprisingly relaxed. She found that she was listening and watching her companion with a growing attraction and anticipation. So much so that it was almost a relief when, after their drinks, Edward said, with an almost cheeky twinkle in his eyes, "would you like to accompany me to my place? It's fairly close by." The corners of his lips rose in a subtle grin. "We could pursue a little mutual gratification..., and just see what happens." Debbie's wide smile was answer enough. His trendy, loft apartment, was within walking distance, and Edward took Debbie's arm as they strolled the few blocks through the dusk.

"On your knees," he barked, without actually raising his voice, "Here!" With a wave of his hand he indicated a spot in the middle of the carpet of a room that could only be described as the parlour. His commands were brusque and authoritative. Debbie responded quickly and silently. She knelt down, head bowed, clasping her hands behind her back without being told. "Chin up," Edward added calmly, a smile flickering across his lips. His blunt demands fanned a glow within her that could be neither denied nor explained.

Edward stepped in front of her and, looking down, captured her doey gaze with his steely eyes. With his crotch directly in front of her face, he lowered his fly, loosened his trousers, and flopped out his turgid python, letting it fall lazily across her lips. A shiver ran through her as she savoured the perverse thrills illuminating her assumed subservience.

He casually, grabbed hold of her hair, and, tilting his hips, firmly pushed his swollen cockhead against her lips. a flash of understanding passed between their eyes in the momentary pause before Edward forcefully pushed his growing erection between Debbie's lips, feeding it steadily into her mouth. She gagged as he hit the back of her throat. Ignoring her distress, he began a slow measured thrusting of his hips, levering her head to facilitate full, deep-throat penetration. It was, Debbie realized, less about giving a blow-job, and more about receiving a face-fucking.

Jarring her already vibrating libido, her arousal continued. She struggled to stay focused on the fleshy insistence of Edward's thrusting, shoving, with limited success, her own stimulation aside. Hesitating on his out-stroke, for a sec, Edward murmured, "Ohhh. I am really very impressed."

A compliment! Debbie was pleased – proud even. Her practice in virtual bondage was, she considered, paying off. And, as he resumed his rhythm, she smiled around the invading shaft, between her gagging attempts to better accommodate his still growing cock.

Suddenly, holding her face firm against his pubic hair and the rough cloth of his open fly-front, he grunted and groaned, letting out a low growl, as he sprayed his salty cum down her throat. His generous emission splashed up into her pharynx at the same time that it ran down into her larynx, causing her to sputter and choke. To her credit, he noted, that her hands never left the small of her back.

After coming in her throat, he roughly took hold of both her nipples, through her blouse and bra, and, pulling them up and back, he eased himself out of her mouth. The sharp pain at her sensitive tits splashed electric colours behind her eyes, enflaming her arousal. Then, with another savage pinch and twist, he let go and instructed her to stay on her knees, while he disappeared into, presumably, his bedroom.

Debbie remained where she was, absolutely still, except for the necessary clearing of her throat, and a trembling that was not really from the cold. Even now, she couldn't quite understand why the escalating roughness resulted in a seriously weeping pussy.

When Edward returned to the parlour, he was dressed in a thick robe and slippers. "Okay," he barked, "Get naked. Quickly! Just toss your clothes onto the settee." He gestured impatiently toward the leather loveseat. "Leave on your hose and heels." He watched her strip, appraisingly, before ordering her to, "Assume 'the position'."

Debbie's questioning look, prompted him to explain what he meant. "'The position' refers to a sub's neutral pose; how you should stand when awaiting further instructions." With that he began directing her. "Stand tall in the middle of the room: feet hip-width apart; pelvis tilted forward;" he said, encouraging her with a crisp smack on the backside. "Chest out; chin up; eyes open; hands behind your head; fingers laced." Stepping back, for a moment, as if to admire his own handiwork, he concluded, "There. Perfect. Don't move."

His eyes still fixed on her, assessing, he started to saunter around her, pinching and poking, and prodding and stroking – muttering to himself as though he were evaluating a possible purchase. Then he stopped directly in front of her, and, staring directly into her eyes, he ran his finger up through her dripping furrow to swirl it around her clit. He watched her wordlessly, as a flaring arousal raged within her, flashing and sparkling behind her eyes. He kept at it mercilessly, watching as her mouth dropped open, and her breath became ragged. Finally, she could take no more. "No! No! Oh! Oh! Ooooohhhh!" she whimpered, as she fought to stay upright – to stay still. Spasms jolted her, running through her in waves, her hips thrusting forward in a vain attempt to chase Edward's retreating hand.

As she gradually recovered her equilibrium, Edward resumed circling, assessing her. Other than a soft, "Hmmmm," he made no acknowledgement of her incredible climax. As she caught her breath, Debbie flexed her fingers, interlaced behind her head, and focused her gaze straight ahead, once more. Stopping behind her, he suddenly smacked her bottom, hard enough to leave a red print, and send bright flashes glittering against the echoes of her orgasm. He, then, leaned in to whisper sensuously, "Well," – she felt his warm breath tickle her ear – "shall we arrange to meet again?"

For their second assignation, Debbie agreed to meet Edward at his apartment. She didn't need the preamble of a bar, and, besides, his apartment was now familiar – although she had only actually seen the parlour and the bathroom. "Still," she thought, however illogically, "it feels safe." The kids were with their dad for the weekend, "So," she'd informed him, rather pleased with herself, "I'll have no curfew." Which turned out to be a good thing.

Having exchanged email addresses before they'd parted, Edward emailed her direct. He instructed her to wear a flouncy skirt and button top, or a light sundress; no undergarments, either way. She should wear heels, preferably ones that would be easy to get on and off, and, should she choose to wear hose, "thigh-high stay-ups are best, as a garter may interfere with certain modes of discipline." He reiterated: no underwear.

Debbie parked on the street outside his apartment, just before nine in the evening. She noted, vaguely, the 'No Parking, 7:00 AM to 7:00 PM' sign, but dismissed it as of no import to her.

Knocking on the door, she felt nervous. After long moments of trying to ignore the fluttering in her tummy, the door swung open. Edward stood, looking imperious in the same robe and slippers she's seen him in last. "Hi," she croaked, then found herself unable to say any more.

Skipping a beat, Edward smiled, and with a welcoming sweep of his hand, purred, "Hello." As Debbie moved past him, into foyer, he added, "So glad you're here. Come on through." Entering the parlour, which felt both familiar and threatening, Debbie suddenly needed to break the ominous, hanging silence. So, she said the first thing that came to her mind. "Last time, you mentioned something about a club...?"

"Oh," Edward scoffed, with a dismissive wave of his hand, "it's far too early to even think about that." Then stepping past her he snapped, "Put your clothing there," indicating a wooden chair, "and assume 'the position'."

He circled her slowly, touching and tweaking, smacking and stroking. As he strolled around her, he asked her questions about herself, and, what she considered, her real life – her Ms Mom life – just like one might do on a first, 'getting-to-know-you' date. And he made perceptive comments, revealing little bits about himself. Standing there, on display, in the middle of the room, made the whole situation surreal.

Suddenly, he changed tact. Debbie could hear the change in his voice. "Virtual bondage is all well and good," he observed, punctuating the sentence with a sharp smack on her buttocks. "But sometimes you need something concrete to struggle against." He stopped directly in front of her, and, drilling her eyes with his, asked, "Are we good for that today?" Debbie nodded – subtly at first but with increasing emphasis.

Edward retrieved a sturdy-looking bar stool that had sat unnoticed in the corner of the room, and placed it directly in front of Debbie. Casually, and efficiently, he bent her over the padded seat, spread her feet apart, against the stool's legs, and positioned her hands below the rungs, at the bottoms of the other legs. Producing a set of lined, Velcro cuffs, he set about fastening her to the stool. He hummed tunelessly as he worked. Debbie's mind was a vortex of apprehension and anticipation. While he affixed the cuffs, checking they were secure, he chatted amiably. "I take it, as you're here,' he chuckled at his own stating-the-obvious, "that you enjoyed our introductory meeting?"

"Hmmm...," Debbie replied, as he seemed to expect a response. A wide strap, that he seemed to conjure from beneath the stool, secured her, across her lower back, firmly to the padded stool's seat. Fully immobilized, her breasts dangled off the front and her ass projected off the rear.

"I'll bet you got a lot of mileage masturbating to images of it all, eh?"

Debbie could feel a flush rush over her cheeks. "Yeah," she murmured, with a slight nod. "You don't know the half of it," she mused, but said nothing else.

They established a safe-word, after Edward had explained the rationale – a word used only to signal the absolute need, however unlikely, to stop. "Nails...," Debbie proposed, "as in tough as..."

"That's perfect," Edward agreed as he stepped behind, out of her field of vision.

"Oooomph!" The first serious smack caught her by surprise, yet the flare of pain already glowed in a halo of delight. Edward's open hand was quickly replaced by a leather-bound, perforated paddle. Debbie's ass was being, alternately, paddled and caressed, when the first of many dildoes split her glistening wet labia, plowing fully into her cunt. For a while, it was thrust in and out in counterpoint to the stinging slaps of the paddle. Debbie could already feel an orgasm rising from the depths, like a kraken from the sea. But before it could surface, Edward moved on, changing the flavor of the assault.

Opening a drawer in an unassuming cabinet Edward revealed a veritable toybox of implements. He smoothly retrieved a couple specific items, and forcefully insinuated one of them, a conical butt-plug, into her ass, following it, unhesitatingly, with a firm rubber penis that had to be twice the size of the previous invader, which he threaded into her pussy. The corporeal punishment being visited upon her buttocks changed from paddle to crop. The inflicted pain melded with the stimulation of the device in her bottom hole and the dildo sawing her twat, and exploded into unbearable arousal.

Surrendering herself to Edward's whims, Debbie went suddenly stiff, for just a moment, then limp like a rag-doll. Climaxes rose and fell within the depths of her being – sometimes unsatisfied, sometimes intense – and her arousal washed over her in waves – peaks and troughs, sometimes ecstatic, sometimes intolerable. She whimpered and mewed through the onslaught of orgasms, getting louder and louder with each.

Pausing for a moment in his ministrations, Edward reached once more into his drawer of tricks. Taking a long, thick latex cock, he fed it into her mouth, lodging it deep, with the admonishment, "Don't let it drop!" Filling her oral cavity, it was, effectively, a gag.

At some point, the paddle was replaced with a variety of whips and switches and canes, as the beatings continued. The thrashings moved around – attending, not only to her butt, but also, to her thighs, her back, even the sides of her breasts – leaving transient redness, but never actually hard enough to leave welts – except on her inflamed backside.

Finally, unable to control her shriek, Debbie let the dildo fall from her mouth, and wailed loudly – but in release, not protest.

"Enough?"

"No! Don't...! Stop...! Don't stop! Not yet!"

Pausing for a moment, Edward quickly located what he was looking for in the drawer, and calmly fitted a ball-gag into her gaping mouth, drawing the strap around her head and buckling it securely. It filled her, cushioning her teeth and pressing out firmly against her rounded lips. Satisfied, he took up his torturing implement once more.

The torment continued seemingly interminably, until Debbie's senses were overwrought. Finally, Edward sensed she was approaching stimulation overload. Laying down his instruments, he plunged his rampant prick, without any warning, into her weeping cunt and set to pounding her feverishly. He came quickly, flooding her ravaged pussy with his man-juice. Then, panting hard, he withdrew, slowly.

"I think we'll take a little break now," Edward announced, sounding more like a school teacher than a torturer. He smiled almost affectionately at Debbie, as he released her from her bindings. In a trance, she followed his suggestions, toileting herself, taking a drink and a snack, and generally catching her breath. Her gaze remained rather dazed, brows raised, still in awe. Sitting in comfortable silence – as comfortable as her glowing butt would allow – for a bit, their eyes met and held. Edward nodded, and Debbie replied with the subtlest dip of her chin.

"Okay, that's enough idleness for now." He rose to standing, and commanded, "Assume the position, slut!" He fastened her wrist cuffs, to a previously unnoticed strap he'd brought down from an inconspicuous ceiling hook, then he spread her legs and attached her ankle cuffs to discreet, recessed anchor points in the floor. Through her giddy distraction, Debbie was duly impressed with how Edward, with some sort of sleight-of-hand had turned an ordinary parlour into an upholstered dungeon.

Satisfied with her new pose, hanging, as it were, from the ceiling, Edward stepped back to admire his handiwork before gathering Debbie's full attention with a smack to her nipple, with what could only be described as a swatter for small flies. The pain was sharp and slow to fade, and, before she had time to recover, Edward had dished out the same to her other nipple. Then again and again. Very soon the sensation became all-encompassing, once more, as he paid attention to, not just her nipples, but her boobs, her armpits, her ass crack, and even her genitals – her sensitive sex. He was unrelenting.

Edward had remained rather reticent during the first phase of the evening, but in a surprising twist, he began to heap verbal abuse upon his victim, calling her names, insulting her, demeaning her. "Just look at you, you dirty little tart. You're nothing but a filthy slattern," he said, almost spitting out the words, and punctuating his statements with stinging blows from his riding crop. Moving slowly around her, he continued. "Your insipid groveling makes me sick, your worthless cunt!" Interestingly, though, the verbal assault surrounded her like a charged electrical field, augmenting the physical stimulation and energizing her arousal.

Sporadically interspersed amidst the stream of invective, Edward was occasionally patronizing, saying, more than once, "That's right, slut," or "That's perfect, slut!" and, insidiously, the moniker Perfect Slut began to stick in her mind. Her Jekyll and Hyde persona were evolving, becoming more tolerant of each other, if that made sense. And Debbie began to think of her 'Mr Hyde' alter-ego as 'Perfect Slut', rather than Miss Slut.