Making a Masochist – Part I

As I’m walking down the steps of the college, my phone rings. Juggling my books and bag, I search my pockets, using the vibrations to locate it. Looking at the screen, I see it’s Ian. He’s in America from Wales. We met at an off-campus pub, his thick accent making my knees melt as if they were made of butter. His well-built physique and head of thick golden curls didn’t hurt, either. It’s the kind of hair you want to sink your hands into and hold tight as you ride their face. Yes, please.

After a little chatter and a game of pool, I knew I would fuck this man. And I want to, but he seems to have other ideas. He’s a Dominant. I didn’t know what that was until I met him. But Ian has opened my eyes to a world I want to explore. He’s given me so much pleasure and no small amount of pain, in every sense of the word, but has yet to fuck me.

“Hello, Sir,” I say in answer to the incoming call. His first rule is that I am always to address him as such.

“Hello, Savannah. In the boot of your car is a bag. You have one hour to do the required task. If you succeed, I’ll fuck you. If not, I bought a new cane in preparation.”

Not sure that I understand what he’s saying, I stop walking. “Sir?”

“Is there something you don’t understand?”

“Um, yes Sir. I have library study group in 45 minutes and I’m not sure what the task is.”

“Very well. You still have an hour, and the instructions are in the bag. Follow them exactly, I’ll know if you haven’t.” The line goes dead.

I look around, knowing he’s here somewhere. He’s made quite a routine of checking up on me throughout the day. To fuck me roughly with his fingers or choke me on his long, thick cock. Never a dull moment.

Hurrying to my car, I open the trunk. As he said, there is a black overnight bag, and I open the zipper to find a note placed on top. Unfolding it, my mouth gapes open as I read.

Hello, my lovely slut,

In this bag is everything you need to complete the task I have assigned. If there is anything that is unclear, I expect you to call me immediately to get clarification. If I do not hear from you, I will assume that you are doing your best to complete it. 

Using the objects in this bag, you are to:

-redden that beautiful round arse of yours, not pink, RED!

-leave marks that are not from impact on your perfect porcelain skin. They must be visible in many areas, the erogenous ones too, please. These marks need to be visible even when you are clothed

-fuck yourself until you climax, you may use your fingers, on your clit and nipples only, for extra stimulation as needed

I require photographic proof that you’ve completed it. Your phone camera will suffice.

I flip the note over. But there’s nothing else.

Quickly, I look through the items in the bag, finding only a boar bristle paddle brush and a condom. Tucked at the bottom is a small blanket. More of a throw, really. Checking my watch, I register that five minutes have passed. I now have fifty-five minutes to do my task and 40 to make it to study group. Honestly, studying seems kind of dull now. I’m more interested in my task. And being fucked later. Just the thought turns me on. My nipples hardening, my clit pulling up and craving for a touch, just a brush of a finger, even if it is mine. But Ian will not tolerate me skipping class or taking what belongs to him.

Knowing I’ll have to complete the task in the library to get to group on time, I remove the brush and condom, placing them into my backpack. I think about the blanket and decide I don’t need it, but change my mind right before slamming the lid shut, draping it over my arm.

Walking briskly, I make it to the library with no diversions. I must have a determined look on my face, as nobody stopped me to talk. Only waves and nods today. Mentally, I thank my resting bitch face. Sometimes it serves me well, just not when I’m on my knees in front of Ian.

Okay, for the first task, reddening my ass. Paddle brushes are loud when used as impact implements. I should know. Looking around the entranceway, I see a tarp draped over the far wall and hear the unmistakable tune of construction. Workers are coming and going and it doesn’t seem anyone is close to the area. Perfect.

Tugging the edge of the tarp aside, I spot the restroom behind the current construction site and dash to it. To my delight, the door is unlocked and I sneak inside, leaning against the door to collect myself, listening to my heart pound in my chest. I check the stalls and find each empty. Good.

Locking the door, I walk to the vanity mirrors and unload the brush. It’s of fine quality, brand new by the look of it. The bristles are firm, but not overly so. I rub it against my palm, getting the feel of the bristles. Not too bad. A little rough, but mostly soft.

Lifting my skirt that has become almost a uniform since that fateful day in the pub, I lower my panties and grab the brush firmly by the handle. I enjoy being spanked, but Ian had always done it previously. I never would have thought about doing it to myself. Bending my knees, I stick my ass out, swinging the brush gently. The impact is light and I know I’m going to have to hit harder to get the proper reddening that Ian requested. I aim and swing again, this time with speed and force. The brush comes back with a loud crack. The sting instantly bringing tears to my eyes, and I wonder how I’m going to do this.

Biting my lip, I try again. But as the brush connects, I know I won’t be able to. I take a deep breath and am just about to swing a third time when my phone rings anew. I know it’s him before I answer.

“Yes, Sir?”

“How will you get caught if you’re in the loo, behind a blocked off area?”

“I’m concerned about the sound of the brush, Sir. I don;t want to bring attention to myself and chance getting caught.”

“That’s the point, little girl, that you may be witnessed being a dirty slut. How’s that red arse coming?”

“Not well, Sir. It hurts more when I do it.”

“So you don’t want to be fucked then? Would you rather feel the bite of my cane? It will hurt much more than that brush.”

“No Sir, I’ll try again.”

“Good girl, you have 30 minutes left.” Click.

I stare at my phone. I have to do this, I need to feel him inside me, no matter what it takes. It’s filled my fantasies for too long. For six months, the only cock I’ve had inside my cunt was of the silicone variety. I need this.

Getting back into position, I bite my lip and strike. If I do it fast, maybe it won’t hurt to such a degree. The impact still echoes off the walls, but the slightly numbed skin from my previous swats mutes the sting. The pain is less intense, the arousal more so. I hit myself, again and again, four, five, six times. The echo in the small space louder with each swing.

Looking in the mirror, I see the red globe of my ass. On one side. Shit! I have to start again on the other. I stand and look at myself in the mirror.

“You can do this. Ian will make it worth it. He always does. Stop being such a wimp and do it!” I say in a low voice.

Holding the brush in my opposite hand, I give my ass a couple of preliminary spanks, getting the flesh ready for the sting and my arm used to the odd angle. My aim is horrible with my left hand but I get the swing of it, no pun intended, and bring the brush down in one high arching blow. The impact reverberates up my arm, which distracts me from the agonizing ache on my behind.

Bracing myself, I let it fly again, but can’t stop the gasp and sob that I release. Wiping a stray tear, I check my reflection and decide that after one last hit, my ass is sufficiently red. Taking my phone, I take a few quick shots and send them off to Ian before rubbing my bottom. The added friction changes the sting to a very familiar heat. My pussy releases moisture at the thought of Ian being pleased with and stroking my red ass.

As I’m pulling my panties back up and resettling my skirt, my phone signals his reply.

Very nice, my little slut. But no more hiding in the loo. Two parts left. Now go.

Sticking my tongue out at the screen, I hurry from my hidden refuge and make my way to the library. Checking my watch I have 20 minutes left and 5 until my study buddies arrive.

I make my way to the basement where they store the reference books, since it’s not usually a busy area. Spotting a dark corner, I make my way, setting the blanket on the floor when I arrive. I make a mental note to thank Ian when I see him, for being thoughtful enough to include it.

Sitting down gingerly, as my ass is still very much aching, I slide my panties off and slip them into my bag. No use for those for a while. Looking in my bag, I rub the bristles again with my thumb. Thinking about them brushing over my sensitive bits gives me a tingle deep in my core, and I feel moisture pool between my thighs once more. No time like the present.

Unbuttoning my blouse, I set it aside and pull my skirt up to bunch around my waist. Looking around, I find I’m alone and unclasp my bra. Sitting in the library, almost completely nude, warms my senses like nothing ever has. The chance of being found out pushing my arousal to an inferno.

Removing the brush from my bag, I spot the condom and pull that out as well. The crescent handle fits my hand snuggly, with a groove for each finger to sit. Gripping it, I place the bristles against my neck, then push lightly, pulling the brush down and across my chest and stomach in one long sweep. The bristles bite into my skin, but tickle as well. I repeat the action on the other side.

Looking down, I notice it’s pink from the ministrations, but the marks are superficial and will fade fairly fast. I try again, pressing the brush harder into my flesh. This time the bristles bite through, leaving long red scratches. They’ll fade over time, but they’ll last longer. The feeling of my nerve endings coming to life is exquisite.

I run the brush over all of my exposed skin, up and down my legs, deep into my thighs, enjoying the feeling of the bite. When my skin is alive and warm from the excessive rubbing, I place the brush on one nipple and drag it down over it, digging the fibers into my areola. The sting is intoxicating, and I clamp my tongue between my teeth before a moan escapes.

I take my time, rubbing each cherry red tip until they are hard and standing at attention. Then I continue, feeling each pass in my center. My pussy is dripping by the time I stop. Knowing I’ll have to show Ian, I grab my phone. Placing the brush over my mons, I rub the brush into my bare mound, passing it between my legs, front to back, hard and then soft. As the brush passes over my clit, I gasp at the unexpectedly pleasant sensation.

Arousal at an all-time high, I know I can’t take anymore. I roll the condom over the brush handle. I’ve never used anything that wasn’t made for sex to fuck myself before, but at the moment, I would fuck a porcupine if it meant I’d get a release. Lining the brush up at my entrance, I spread my lips with my other hand. Inserting the handle slowly, I push it to the hilt, then grab my phone and take a selfie, a seductive smile on my face. I hope.

The response is immediate.

Record yourself. I want to see you come. 10 minutes left.

Changing my phone to the video setting, I set it in front of me and press record. I know it won’t take long. My body is primed and ready for my climax.

Relaxing into the corner, I fuck myself with the handle. Each plunge presses the handholds against all the best spots, pushing me further and further toward the peak. I’m almost at the top of the plateau when I sense movement out of the corner of my eye. Startled, I’m about to stop when Ian steps into view, his cock in hand, his hand sliding effortlessly up and down.

“Keep going, dirty slut. Come for me.”

Having him find me like this, mostly naked, skin covered in welts, my ass bright red. The brush stuffed between my opened legs, his cock in his hand, watching me, is all it takes. My climax rushes forward, and I release with a moan and a gush of fluid between my legs.

“Say my name. Loud, Savannah. I want the entire library to know you’re mine.”

As my climax reaches the height of its summit, I scream out his name in a course, carnal cry.

“Turn over, hands and knees, now.” He declares triumphantly.

I turn in record time, pushing my ass towards him, tipping my hips to give him full access. He kneels behind me and enters my channel in one quick thrust. His glans hits my cervix, and I gasp at the intrusion, before I finally release the moan I’ve been holding.

“Brace yourself, I will not hold back,” is all he says before he pummels into me.

I’m ready to come again within minutes. His cock hits all the right places. Ian has one hand fisted in my hair, the other holding my hips in place. His hips smack against my still tender bottom, each thrust ringing throughout the archive lined walls.

I know I’m close and I ask, “May I come, Sir?”

“Whenever you’re ready.” And he slaps my ass, rubbing in the already spreading heat.

He pushes into me one more time, and I feel my cunt clamp around his hard shaft, my release following. My eyes lose focus and I hear my long keening wail as it tears from my lips. He stills, letting out a grunt to keep from voicing his climax. As my vision returns, I see Lisa, my study buddy, standing in the opposite corner, her eyes wide, one hand covering her mouth, the other between her legs.

To be continued…

To see more Mmm’s, lick the lips.

Want to see what happens next? Making a Masochist-Part II can be read now!

For more sexy stories, see Fiction by MrsK. For kinky inspiration see, Photography.