Until quite recently, my only experience with anything even
remotely resembling D/s was an incident that happened when near the
end of my sophomore year in college – more than eight years ago. My
roommate and I got into an argument about who’s turn it was to do some
cleaning. I knew it was my turn – and so did she – but I had a date
and wanted to leave. We argued and she got mad and decided that I
needed a spanking. Since she was faster, and stronger, I got a good
spanking. She took me across her knee, flipped my skirt up, and
pulled my panties down. Then she gave me a good, hard spanking that
lasted for what seemed like hours but was, in reality, no more than
four or five minutes. But it hurt like hell and it was very
humiliating. When it was over I was sobbing like a baby and she made
it worse by slipping her hand between my legs and discovering that I
was very wet. Despite the evidence, I denied that being spanked had
turned me on. But I learned my lesson and never attempted to avoid my
share of the work.
Neither of us mentioned the incident afterward and the school year
was over a few weeks later. I roomed with someone else the following
year and only saw Jamie a few times after that. After college, I came
to New England and found a nice job in a small town on the coast. I
met a guy after a few months and we dated, decided we liked each
other, and got married. I’ve been married for almost five years now
and we have one daughter – a girl who just turned two. I thought my life
was settled and secure, that I was all set. After all, I had a loving
husband, a beautiful baby, a nice home, a good job, good neighbors –
the American dream. But I began to get restless. I had the feeling
that something was missing.
I did a lot of thinking, a lot of self-evalutation, a lot of
soul-searching. And none of it helped a bit. Then, one afternoon, a
young woman at work was talking about her weekend with her boyfriend.
She mentioned that he’d spanked her and I said something about spousal
abuse. She laughed and said, “No, it wasn’t like that! He spanked me
because I wanted him to – it turns me on.” I apologized for jumping
to conclusions and we chatted for another minute or so and then I went
back to my desk. Later, as I was driving home, I found myself
thinking about the look on her face when she talked about being
spanked. And then I remembered the incident from my college days.
And it turned me on. I realized that I wanted to try it again. Even
aftering picking Jen up at daycare and driving home I was aroused.
That night, when Jim and I were finally in bed together, I
mentioned the subject of spankings and was surprised when he showed no
interest at all. Over the next week or so I mentioned it again
several times and each time he showed zero interest. Finally, he got
mad and told me not to bring it up again. He said he wasn’t a wife
abuser and didn’t like me talking about spankings and such. So I shut
up about it and assumed that it wasn’t in the cards for me. Life went
on and, to be honest, it was pretty good. A few months passed and
then one night when I was at my aerobics class I ran into Jamie, my
old roommate from college.
Up until now I haven’t said anything about my appearance. I’m
certainly not beautiful and it’s a stretch to even call be pretty.
I’m average or maybe a little above average. My husband describes me
as ‘quietly attractive’, meaning, I suppose, that you have to look
more than once to realize that I’m not plain. I’m 5’6″, 122 pounds,
and have light brown hair and brown eyes. I have a nice figure
(34c-26-34) and very nice legs. I work hard to stay in shape. I go
to aerobics 2-3 times a week, run most mornings, and lift weights with
my husband a couple of times a week. The night I ran into Jamie was a
hot night in late July. I was wearing a crop top over a sports bra,
cotton panties, nylon jogging shorts, socks, and my favorite pair of
I was on my way into the class when I heard someone call my name.
I turned around and saw a tall blonde standing near the entrance to
the locker room. It took me a moment to realize who it was. Jamie
hadn’t changed all that much, but I hadn’t seen her in years and I
wasn’t expecting to see her ever again. She was even prettier than
she’d been in college and she’d been very pretty back then. She
smiled as I walked over and held her hand out. We shook hands and did
the usual ‘How have you been’ ritual. From the way she was dressed it
was obvious that she wasn’t at the club for the aerobics class. I
asked her how she happened to be there and she said she’d just taken
over the club and two others in nearby towns. “I’m on a tour of
inspection you might say. I’m trying to decide which club to make my
We chatted for a couple of minutes and then I went to my class. We
arranged to meet afterwards and talk. I hadn’t planned to shower at
the club that night, so I was pretty sweaty when I walked out of class
and found Jamie waiting for me. We sat down on a bench near the door
and talked, catching up on old times. After we’d been talking for a
while she smiled and asked if I remembered ‘the night’. I blushed and
whispered, “Yes, I do. Very vividly.” Then I glanced at her and
asked if she’d spanked anyone lately. She grinned and shook her head.
“No, not lately. Why? Do you know someone who needs one?”
I hesitated, nodded, then whispered, “Yes, me.”
She was silent for a moment. “Are you serious?”
“Yes, very.” I glanced away, unable to look her in the eye.
“It would be more now, much more. I’m into heavy D/s. I had to
give up my slave when I came east to buy the clubs. She couldn’t
leave California, her mother is ill. I want a replacement. Are you
willing to be a slave? What would your husband think?”
“He could never know,” I whispered, answering her questions out of
order. “But, yes, I think I’d like to be a slave. It would be nice
not to have to make decisions. Only do as I’m told.” My voice
trailed off because she was shaking her head.
“It would never work. He’d find out. And I’m talking heavy D/s.
Real slavery. Pain, humilation, discipline. I’d mark you. Change
you. Subjugate you. You’d live and work her at the club. I’d have
you pierced. Maybe branded. I don’t think you’re ready for that.
I shook my head. “No, I’m not. I don’t know if I ever would be
ready for that type of relationship.” I paused. “Will you spank me
She nodded and got to her feet. “Come with me to the office.”
I followed her into the administrative office and across it to her
private office in the back. Once inside, she locked the door and told
me remove my clothes, all except my socks. I took my shoes off and
slowly undressed. I hadn’t bargained on having to strip, but it
didn’t bother me too much. When I was finished, she looked me over
slowly and said, “You’re in great shape. You have a fine body. I
really wish I could enslave you.” Then she opened a drawer in her
desk and took out a leather strap about 20″ long and 3″ wide. She
also brought out a pair of handcuffs and a ball gag. I stared at them
in fascination. “I’m going to spank you hard, very hard, so you need
to be cuffed and gagged. Any objections?”
I shook my head, too scared to speak. I felt like crying already.
But I was also very excited. She cuffed my hands beind my back and I
opened my mouth for the gag. When it was in, she tied the leather
thongs together behind my neck. Then she had me stand in front of her
desk, pressed against it. “Bend over the desk until your upper body
is parallel to it, but make sure your nipples are not touching the top
of the desk.” I did as instructed. “I’m going to give you thirty
hard strokes. If you move I start over. Understand?” I glanced back
at her and nodded.
Then it started. I heard the ‘swisssssh’ and then the strap cut
across my buttocks. The pain was instantaneous and incredibly bad! I
screamed into the gag, tears running down my cheeks. But I didn’t
move. Not then and not later. I danced from foot to foot and
screamed my guts out, but I didn’t move. If I hadn’t been gagged I
would have begged for mercy. It was terrible. The absolute worst
experience of my life. When it was over she removed the gag, but left
me cuffed. I stood there sobbing, tears streaming down my face. She
asked me if I wanted another 20 or 30. I stared at her in horror and
said, “No, oh god no! I couldn’t take it.”
She nodded. “Are you wet?” As she spoke, she slipped her hand
between my legs and discovered the truth for herself. I was sopping.
She held her hand up so I could see her finger covered with my
secretions. “I think you want another 20 or 30. Otherwise, you’d be
down on your knees begging me to masturbate you instead.”
I immediately dropped to my knees and began to beg. “Please don’t
whip me again. Please. Will you masturbate me instead? Please,
Jamie, please masturbate me. Oh, god! I’m begging. Please don’t
whip me!” She grinned. “Down on your belly slut. Lick the tips of
my pumps and admit what you are.”
I rolled onto my left hip and eased myself down onto my belly. It
was hard with my hands cuffed behind my back, but I did it. I inched
over to her on my belly and licked the tips of her pumps. She
crouched and grabbed a handful of my hair, jerking my head up until we
were staring into each other’s eyes. “What are you?” Her voice was
harsh and demanding.
“I’m a slut,” I whispered.
She slapped me. “Yes you are, but that’s not the answer I want.”
“I’m a slave.”
Another slap. “Go on, continue.”
“I’m a nude slave. Your nude slave. Your slut. Your nude slut.”
Another hard slap. “Are you wet?” I nodded. “What does that make
I thought for a moment, groping for the answer she wanted. The
slaps hurt and I was crying again. She smiled and slapped me again.
“I like it when you cry.” Another slap. “Answer me!”
“I’m a wet cunt. I’m a nude, wet-cunt slave. A nude bitch-slut.”
I was in pain, sobbing, humiliated, and very very aroused. More
aroused than I’d ever been in my entire life.
She released my hair after giving it a good hard tug. Then she
stood up and kicked her shoes off. I struggled up to my knees and she
kicked me in the belly, driving the breath out of me. As I writhed on
the floor, gasping for breath, she unlocked the cuffs and tossed them
aside. “Get up and get out! Go home to your husband and your
daughter. You’d never make it as a slave.” The contempt in her voice
cut me like a knife. I got dressed and turned to leave. She called
my name and I turned toward her, staring at her feet. “Look at me you
sniveling bitch!” I glanced up and she spat in my face. I turned and
groped for the door knob, sobbing, totally humiliated. I found my car
somehow and drove around for almost an hour before going home.
When I got home, Jim was angry and worried because I was so late.
He realized I’d been crying and demanded to know what was going on.
He kept after me and I finally told him. “You wouldn’t spank me.
Tonight I met an old friend from college and she obliged me. And I
loved it! She wants to have me as her slave!”
Jim stared at me in silence for a long moment. “Get your fucking
clothes off. Now!”
I hesitated and he punched me in the belly. I sank to my knees and
he crouched and stripped me. When he saw the strap marks on my
buttocks he punched me again, this time between my legs. I screamed
and rolled into a tight ball. He grabbed me and dragged me to the
door. He threw me out on the steps. Then he went and got my clothes
and purse and tossed them out onto the grass. “Get your ass out of
here, cunt! Get a lawyer! Don’t ever come back or I’ll kill you!”
I got dressed as quickly as I could. When I rummaged through my
purse I found that he’d taken my car keys and my money. I hesitated
and then started walking. I walked all the way back to the club,
almost six miles. By the time I got there it was after midnight and
the club was long closed. But there was an emergency number on the
door and I called it. It took a couple of calls, but I finally got in
touch with Jamie. She was staying in a rented house a couple of miles
from the club. I told her what had happened and she drove down to
pick me up. There was no sympathy. Not then. She told me that I had
a choice to make. I could submit and become her slave or she’d loan
me some money and drive me to a hotel. She pointed across the parking
lot. “There’s a dumpster there. Either walk over there and throw
everything into it, clothes, purse, and shoes. Or go and get into my
van and I’ll take you to a hotel.”
I glanced at her and started walking toward the van. Then I veered
away and walked over to the dumpster. I heard the van start up as I
tossed my purse into the dumpster. All my identification – my
identity – went with the purse. I stripped and tossed my clothes in.
Jamie was leaning against the van when I turned away from the
dumpster. I walked over and dropped to my knees in front of her. She
crouched and we stared into each other’s eyes. “Are you sure?” I
hesitated, then nodded. She reached into her pocket and took out a
leather collar. She handed it to me and straightened up. I glanced
up and stared into her eyes as I fastened the collar around my neck.
Then she handed me a Master padlock and I locked the collar with it.
I got down on my belly and licked her shoes in submission, embarking
upon my life of slavery.