Amanda paced back and forth in the bedroom wondering how she had gotten herself into this situation in the first place. She could hear the low rumble of conversation coming from downstairs, but she couldn't understand what they were saying. She contemplated escaping, but something was holding her back. Curiosity, I'm guessing, or shock maybe.
Fifteen minutes or so passed before Clara entered and when she did, Amanda jumped back in either surprise or fear.
"What are you so surprised about?" Clara stated it more than asked.
"I..." Amanda collected herself and stared at the woman.
"Hush." Clara walked closer to where Amanda was standing.
"Can you please tell me what the hell is going on?" Amanda cried.
Clara slapped her across the face hard. "First, remember what I said about speaking in the first person. Secondly, Luke wants me to teach you a lesson on obedience."
"But what if I don't want this?"
"Then leave." Clara paused for a minute before continuing. "But you're not going to, are you? You could leave now - call 911 and tell them I've raped you."
"But..."
"But this turns you on?"
"Maybe, or not... or... I -"She paused. "This one doesn't understand this."
Clara smiled slightly at the sudden compliance. "Take off your cloths." Her tone was now assertive.
Amanda stared, but said nothing and obeyed. Slowly removing her shirt and skirt, she trembled with the humiliation of her own desire for this woman's approval and of how open she had now become.
"Arms by your side and put your head down." Clara ordered as she walked behind Amanda. A chill ran up Amanda's spine as Clara ran her cold hands down the curves of her body. "Kneel."
Amanda froze. She did not want to let herself become any more vulnerable to this woman than she already was, but at the same time she kind of wanted to do it.
She found her answer when Clara hit the back of her head hard and then grabbed her by her hair. "Or I'll just force you down. You choose."
Amanda sank to her knees as Clara walked back in front of her. As Clara examined the body in front of her, she laughed as she noticed the glistening on Amanda's inner thighs. "You always get wet when you're controlled like this?" She waited for Amanda to answer and when she didn't, Clara slapped her across the face and grabbed her by her hair again so that their faces met. "That was a question."
Amanda crawled inside herself as she faced her inevitable humiliation. "Y - Yes, Mistress." She finally answered.
"Yes... what?"
"Yes, I..." She paused.
"Say it. I want to hear you say it." Clara ordered sharply.
"I... This one gets wet w-when she is..." She paused again.
"When you are what?"
"Controlled and dominated." Amanda shut her eyes in humiliation.
"Do you, now?"
"Yes, Mistress."
"What else do you like?" Clara got a tighter grip on Amanda's hair.
"This one likes to be... punished, Mistress." Amanda opened her eyes and was glad to find that Clara appeared not to be judging her proclivities.
"Good. This will make it easier for the both of us," She let go of Amanda. "Because I intend to hurt you."
"You're going to..." Amanda flinched at these words because she knew it wasn't an exaggeration.
"Yes, Amanda." Clara cut her off. "I am a sadist and I want to hear you beg for mercy."
"Please... no..." Amanda whispered pleadingly.
"You have the power to stop me, you know. All it takes is one phone call and you'll be free of this. I'll be gone from your life forever."
Amanda started to stand up, but then after pausing for a few seconds, sank back down to her knees. "This one doesn't think she wants that..."
"You don't want to stop me?" Clara raised an eyebrow.
"This one does not want to stop this. She needs your power over her."
Clara smiled. "Good. Now, I want you to scratch your nails up your inner thighs."
Amanda opened her mouth to speak, but said nothing.
"You heard me. You're going to become my little pain slut."
Amanda stared at her in disbelief, but then decided it was best to obey. She swallowed any pride she may have had and dug her long nails into the sensitive skin of her inner thighs. She flinched as she began to move her hands up.
"If I'm not satisfied, I will make you do it again." Clara ordered. "Do it as hard as you can."
Amanda wasn't sure why she didn't just lie and do it softly, but she felt obliged to follow Clara's orders. She cried out in pain as she dragged her nails across her skin.
Clara slapped her across the face. "I told you to do it as hard as you can. Do it again; same place."
"Y-Yes, Mistress." Amanda whimpered. She screamed as she dug into the already bleeding wounds with her sharp nails.
"That's better." Clara moved closer to Amanda as she whimpered at the pain. "Did you like that?"
When she didn't reply, Clara slapped her again. "Answer me when I speak to you."
"Oh god..." She closed her eyes abruptly as Clara grabbed her under the chin and brought her face to meet hers.
"Open your eyes and say it." She dug her nails into Amanda's cheek.
Amanda opened her eyes as she began to accept her humiliation. "I... sort of... This one thinks she... did..." She spoke softly. "But she's not used to pain."
"We'll raise your pain threshold soon enough." Clara let go of Amanda and walked over to the other side of the room. Amanda watched her as she picked up a brown leather dog collar from the dresser. "During that time, you will be our little slave girl; subservient to me, Luke, and anyone else we see fit. This is your last chance to leave."
"This one does not want to leave, Mistress." Amanda replied relatively quickly. Something about the idea of being a slave excited her.
At that, Clara walked behind Amanda and put the collar around her neck, locking it with a small padlock. She then picked up rope that had been lying on the bed, tied one end to the collar, and then tied the other end to the bed.
Clara then walked towards the door. "Now, I have matters to take care of. Either Luke or I will be up in an hour. I'm locking the door, but if you free yourself you will be punished, do you understand?"
"Yes, Mistress."
Clara left the room, closed the door, and locked it.
alicetheDroog
I'mma blow your mind
(didn't write this)
How Cynthia discovered her abortion fetish
Cynthia was a 22-year old, good-looking girl with long
legs and red hair. Se had a boyfriend and a fairly
normal sex life, meaning she had sex with him usually
every day. He was boy number 5 in her life and so far
she had used the pill as contraception -
successfully. So she was not too interested in the subject of
abortion except she was pro choice but rather in a
theoretical manner. Of course, would she get pregnant she
would know where and how to obtain an abortion. It is
legal in France up to 12 weeks on demand and in
neighbouring Netherlands nobody will ask any question up to 22
weeks and in some clinics 28 weeks (not exactly legal,
but openly tolerated). So she didn't
bother.
It was on a July-weekend in London when she dropped
by in a bookshop on Piccadilly and had a look at the
"women's corner", where everything from the latest diet to
sex tips was the trade of the day. She opened a book
on sexual self-determination and somehow she took
some time to have a look at the chapter dealing with
abortion. The different techniques from suction over
dilation and curettage, dilation and evacuation or intact
extraction, saline abortion and even caesarean abortion were
laid out in graphic detail and some of the pictures
really caught her attention. Although some of the photos
of inserted forceps pulling out foetal body parts
looked pretty disturbing on first sight, a strange
fascination made Cynthia virtually stare at them. She made
sure nobody could look over her shoulders seeing what
she was reading and looking at and started to absorb
every little detail the book could provide.<br><br>She
bought it and went to her Hotel. Reading over the
chapter she came to the second chapter on abortion, the
title of which nearly stopped her breathing: "Are
abortions fun?"
She had always thought of abortion
as a necessary evil and a right that women should be
able to exercise without being questioned, but
thinking of them as something enjoyable did never come to
her mind. Nevertheless she started wondering whether
her own morbid interest in reading the stuff did not
have the same undercurrent feeling that the books
author laid out on the pages in front of her eyes. It
talked about breaking the taboo of killing the unborn
foetus and about the sexual arousal and the feeling of
helplessness women experienced lying on the abortion table
that contributed to it. It also reported many women
obtaining the procedure enjoyed the feeling of being
emptied, the contraction of the uterus in the process of
the vacuum suction and going with it a sexual arousal
that in many instances lead to climactic orgiastic
experiences for them.
Cynthia did not know how long
she had been reading the intricate and delicate
details of the descriptions dealing with abortion
experiences from 5 weeks gestation to 39, when her boyfriend
knocked at her door and wanted to come in. Nervously she
closed the book and put it into her luggage. She did not
want Jacques to see what she was reading, being afraid
he would laugh at her. When she stood up to go to
the room's door she realised her slip was soaking
wet. It was in fact so wet one could hear her pussy's
lips swamp on every step she made - or so it seemed to
her.
"I am with you in a minute, Jacques, just let me
finish my toilette please", she called out. She had to
change her slip or else... she was afraid he would hear
that wet sound from her pussy's lips and wonder why
that was the case. She jumped into the bathroom, cleaned her
dripping pussy with a paper hanky and got a fresh slip. As
she stepped into her room again he sight fell on her
bag, which contained the book, that had captured so
much of her attention this afternoon. She experienced
a slight shiver thinking of the pictures showing
the insertion of forceps, vacuum tubes, sharp bladed
curettes and dilators into other women's vaginas. She knew
she wanted to know more about this. No, she wanted to
know all about this. She would go to every little
bookshop in town and surf the web in every little corner
to learn everything about abortion and the pleasures
it provided to those knowing.
"Hi, Jacques",
"Hi, Cynthia". Their hallo was short and informal.
Cynthia was aroused from what she just had consumed and
decided she needed satisfaction immediately. "I want you
to fuck me here and now, Jacques, she moaned" and
before he knew what was happening to him she had opened
his pants, pulled them down and with hands knowing
how to handle him she made him ready in a moment. She
got off her slip, pulled up her skirt and while
laying down on the desk in front of the bed she opened
up her legs and pulled him into her soaking wet
vagina. She closed her eyes as he penetrated her deeply.
"Why does this fuckin' desk not have stirrups or
kneerests?" she wondered silently while the pumping movements
they both made raised her orgasm very fast to her
first climax. She had her eyes still closed and in her
imagination she was lying on a surgical table in a clinic.
Her legs opened and up in the air, the doctor would
enter the room, insert a large tube, penetrate her with
it and suction a foetus out of her wide opened
cavity.
The imagination of receiving an abortion heightened
her sexual feelings once more and as she came again
she could not suppress a whisper saying "suck it,
please, suck it out". Jacques was too busy with his own
orgasm to register she had said anything that didn't
make sense to him. With a loud breathing he ejaculated
into her and as they both came Cynthia's convulsively
contracting cervical muscle suctioned his warm sperm into her
uterus and up into her ovaries where they happened to
meet the result of Cynthia forgetting to take the pill
that morning...
"Ohhh, yessss, that was so good,
I just needed that right now" she said to Jacques
when he pulled out of her and a stream of liquid, a
mixture of sperm and her own wetness, flowed out of her
vagina onto the carpet next to the desk. Jacques was
puzzled: "I didn't know you were a fan of quickies, but I
have to admit, it was a nice surprise. We could to
that more often." "Yes, Jacques, I think we
should".
Back home in Paris Cynthia had a good time. Having
Sex with Jacques was still good, though she had an
adventure with another good looking student from the
medical college, whom she loved to fuck in dangerous
places. In general she had developed a sense for
"dangerous situations" and used them as a turn on. So
Jacques provided her "bread and butter" sex, and Jean was
her little in-between-excitement. But with both boys
she had used her new imagination about having an
abortion as a way to increase her orgiastic pleasure. She
had searched the web for information on it, but what
she had found so far was off pretty little value,
either in terms of information or in terms of turn
on.
It was early October when she somehow felt unease
over her current relationships with the two boys. She
was still using the pill, but recently she had felt
some sickness when getting up in the morning. Maybe
she should consult a doctor and exchange the chemical
contraceptive she was using for another one. She would go on
Friday next week.
"Young lady, I am afraid changing the
contraceptive is not exactly what I can prescribe to you right
now", her gynaecologist explained to her. "You are 16
weeks pregnant. You are not prepared for that news, are
you?"
"No, I am not", she replied, "but nowadays that should
not be a problem, should it?" "Well, here in France
you need a reason such as health grounds for an
abortion after 12 weeks, but a friend of mine, a French
gynaecologist, is running a facility in Amsterdam. They are
providing abortion services up to 22 weeks on demand, up to
36 weeks if there is a health problem whatsoever. Do
you want the address?"