“Sophie.” His tone was matter of fact, as if he knew I would be there. There had never been any question in his mind. And why would there be? He owned me. At least in our mutual fantasy world he did.
It didn’t take long for me to sense MC was in a bad mood. From the moment he arrived at the party, I felt like he was searching for a reason to punish me.
“Are you ill-prepared for our session tonight?” he growled when I fumbled as I clamped my nipples and slid on the attached wristbands.
“No, sir. I’m prepared. I only dropped one, that’s all.”
“Take that elastic band and pull it down over your hips so that it pulls against your ass.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Now I want you to flick it against your ass. Hard! And I want you counting to twenty as you do it.”
“Yes, sir. One,” I said, as I plucked the band away from my skin and let it go.
Snap! Dang, that hurt more than I was expecting. I’d only done it around my waist before, but doing it this way it stung more because it was already pulled more taunt from the beginning.
“Two,” I cried, doing it again. And the stinging pain took over. This wasn’t about arousal now, this was about punishment and taking the pain of it to please him.
“Three…” I whined my way up to nineteen, occasionally moving the belt to a different part of my bottom so as not to injure myself. I wanted to be able to sit down the next morning.
“Twenty,” I whimpered.
“I’ll bet that ass is nice and striped, isn’t it?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Now straddle that cock, take it inside you. Unclamp those nipples and I want you to pull on them, twist them. Pull on them.”
“Yes, sir.” I removed the clothespins, letting them dangle from my wrists and I pinched and pulled at my nipples. The agony was exquisite, then I twisted them and I almost came right then. But we’d come far along enough in my training that I wasn’t supposed to come without MC’s permission. My orgasms belonged to him and he now wanted me to come on command. My concern was that I wouldn’t be able to.
“Now, I want you to smack that ass with your hand. Spank yourself hard, and I want to hear it.”
My butt was already screaming from the rubber bands, but I did as he asked.
Slap! Slap! Slap! Freak, it hurt. But I loved having him in control, telling me what to do. It was like a drug.
“Is the little bitch ready to come?”
“I-I don’t know…” I stammered. I had been a minute ago, but now I was focused on the pain that wracked my bottom cheeks.
“Tell me you’re a greedy girl and you need your cunt to come.”
“I’m a greedy girl and I need my cunt to come,” I repeated robotically.
“Now fuck that pussy. Fuck it hard. Stroke that clit!” His tone came across extra sharp tonight, and suddenly I wanted to cry. But I fought back my tears and did as he asked. I also yanked on one nipple because that had worked earlier.
“Yes, sir,” I managed, and I stimulated myself as best I could. But I felt pressured at the same time, and it robbed some of the fun from our session.
“Do it. I want you to come, you greedy little fucktoy. Go ahead, make that cunt come for me.”
I was almost there. Fucking, tugging, stroking myself into a frenzy. I wanted so badly to come for him, and I didn’t dare fake it. Not that he’d know, but I wouldn’t be able to withstand the dishonesty of that.
Eventually, I climaxed and I thought I heard him come as well, but our session ended awkwardly that night. I wasn’t sure if I was hormonal or getting my period, or if we were simply out of sync. That happened to all couples, right?
I reminded myself we weren’t exactly a couple, and when it came time for the recap, I told him I didn’t think he gave me as many positive reinforcements this time. Not as many "good girls." Later, I realized that he told me I did a good job after the session was over, but I didn’t recall him praising me during. I told him it helped draw me in more when he peppered the name-calling with positive reinforcement. I seemed to need both to be able to “get off” on cue. I worried that I was a high-maintenance sub and wondered if he was less than pleased with me. I had no idea whether I was being too sensitive or if I was truly a disappointment because I didn’t come on command.
That night I had trouble sleeping. If this were a normal relationship, I’d feel like I could talk this out with him. And I sort of did that in my emails, but I was frustrated beyond belief that I couldn’t just pick up that phone and check in with him.
Why couldn’t I just call and say, “Hey, tonight was weird, right? Or was it just me?”
And then he’d tell me whatever and we’d go forward from there.
But instead I was stuck in limbo. Half in a relationship. Half not. Well, not really a relationship, except my body belonged to him. But that wasn’t real, though. Or was it?
I felt like I’d fallen down Alice’s rabbit hole into a crazy mixed-up world that was beginning to drive me nuts, but that I was too addicted to leave.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The next morning, after I noticed the red stripes across my ass in the mirror, I received this message from MC:
Sophie,
You are certainly shaping into a nice little plaything. I have a decadent session planned for next time that should make your toes curl. I wonder how often we can make that cunt come? I wonder how long we can keep you in an orgasmic state? I wonder if we can get those juices forming a river between your ass cheeks?
Be a good fuck slut and keep that clit dancing by stroking, pinching, jerking, and spanking. When you read this I want you to make that cunt come. You will go into the bathroom and watch in the mirror the li’l whore fuck her cunt and play with her clit until she explodes with that sweet release.
Then tell me all about the dirty girl you watched in the mirror.
Stay wet.
MC
After reading his message, I went into my bathroom, took off my panties, and perched on the counter in front of the mirror. I spread my legs and touched myself, stroking my clit thirty times. I pinched and rolled it, then jerked it like a little cock the way MC taught me. And I felt like a filthy whore doing it. I fucked myself with my dildo, the one designed to hit my G-spot. I watched myself in the mirror, stared into my eyes as I climaxed, saw the release passing over my face. It was an interesting and revealing experience. Obviously, it wasn’t an angle I usually viewed my sexual antics from, and it fascinated me to see my pussy being played with in the mirror. It made me realize what MC would see if he and I were ever together.
I sent him a note describing my play to him and I considered sending it “as is,” but reconsidered. The way I’d felt the night before—so out of sync with him and distanced—I had the need to reconnect and learn something about him, if that was possible. So I added the following at the end:
That brings me to something else that’s been on my mind. I am getting to the point where I am curious about certain things, and I’m not sure where the boundaries are (or should be) when it comes to asking you questions about yourself or your experience with BDSM. I know that if we were doing this live, I would be more comfortable asking more questions, but because of the nature of cyber-play as well as both of our privacy issues, I don’t have a road map as to how to handle it. Normally if I was playing with someone, I would know more about them and our bond would grow the way a friendship does, but this is a unique and unusual scenario, and while the distance works for me in some ways, in other ways I think a more human connection would help deepen the process.
So I am conflicted. While I appreciate the anonymity that cyber-training provides, sometimes it also seems mechanical, almost robotic, less human. And I’m afraid that keeps me from being as immersed in a scene as I could be. One of the big downsides of cyber is that it lacks the human touch of another person, but I’m wondering if it lacks an emotional component as well.