First Date - Part One?

Short story of a fledgling sub and her first experience in exploring her sexuality.
Told (mostly) from her perspective. Pretty tame, as you'd expect from a first experience.
----------------------------------------
-----------------------

Although you've been curious for a while, this was going to be your first 'real' experience as a sub. You've been messaging a guy on a D/s website for a while now... a dom, obviously. You've exchanged fetishes, discussed boundaries and expressed clearly what it was that you each were looking for. To be blunt, he'd managed to get you to agree to taking part in a attacker/captive encounter. You'd both arranged to meet for drinks and do the obligatory 'meet & greet' first, before heading back to your place for some depraved fun.

Your stomach was turning knots, nerves wracking your entire body, but you somehow manage to muster the courage to arrive at the designated meeting place. A quiet bar, merely a five minute walk from your house. Taking a seat at an empty booth, you order a drink and nervously wait for your 'date' to arrive. You couldn't help but wonder why you'd agreed to such a indecent sexual encounter, on your first date-- but something about the way he explained it, and the thoughts it provoked in your mind and body, compelled you to go with it.

He's late. 5 minutes... 10... 20. Did he blow you off? When the half hour mark passes, you pick up your phone, head to his profile page and type out a rather irritated message. "Standing me up... really?? Have you got any idea how difficult it was for me to even agree to this!? ...I guess you're all talk." ---- annnnd, SEND. That'll teach him, you think. He talked big about how easily he'd have you in his clutches, even going so far as to boast that you'd be his obedient little 'pet' before the night was through. That was one of the reasons you'd agreed to meet so soon, to prove him wrong. The talk of it excited you, but that kind of thing doesn't happen in real life. Certainly not with you.

You pay for your drinks and grab your coat, flustered with both yourself and with him. Checking your phone several times on the way home, you spend most of the five minute walk in distraction. Far too distracted to notice the large figure which had been following behind you ever since you left the bar, anyway. Returning home, you reach in to your purse and locate your keys. It looks like an evening of Netflix and a date with your vibrator was the best you were going to get tonight--- or so you thought.

"Mmmffphh!!??" you cry, a large hand covering your mouth as you're grabbed from behind. Your attacker has you muscled inside your house before you even know what's happening, closing the front door behind your both. Flailing your limbs, you succeed in knocking a vase to the ground and a picture off the wall. The man keeps his hand firmly over your mouth, easily removing your coat and ushering your forward in to your living room. You can't see him, but it's obvious by how easily he handled you, that he was far stronger than you were.

Protesting into his palm-gag, the man pushes you down over your sofa, face first. His hand is redrawn as he places it on the back of your head, pushing your nose and mouth deep into the cushioned surface below. Your hands are moving randomly in panic, an act which is soon dealt with as he grabs one of your wrists, twisting your arm painfully behind your back. "Fucking quit it!" he hisses, his voice deep and oozing authority. Your arm hurts and you instantly find yourself obliging his demand. "Good girl," he soothes, an almost mocking tone in his voice, pushing your face further into your sofa for good measure.

"Is that you?" you ask, on your knees and attempting to comprehend what was going on. You hear him rummaging through a bag; his, no doubt. "Mmmgh...?" you breathe into the cushion, feeling your sore wrist being ensnared by what felt like rope. The man pulls his knot tight, securing your first wrist before swiftly pulling your second behind your back to join it. Your face pressed into your couch, you now have both of your arms restrained behind your back. "Isn't that better?" he asks, ensuring his bindings were sufficient. They were-- there was almost no give, and your limbs were going nowhere.

"Thirty minutes... is that really all you were willing to wait for?" he asks.
Clearly, he'd never intended on sitting down for small-talk before putting you through your paces. You reply by attempting to defend yourself, stating you had been there on time, but you're swiftly shushed, your face pushed down against the sofa again. "This is what you wanted, right?" he asks, keeping your head lowered. "If you're sure, then your safe word is 'mistletoe'." He releases his grip, allowing you to breathe and give your decision.

"...I want it...," you admit, the minute amount of roughness you'd already begun to experience, driving something inside yourself that cried for more. Unsatisfied with the softness of your reply, he tells you to answer clearly, or he'll end it now and leave. Part of you took his words as a challenge, wanting to prove you had what it took to be a sub, you weren't just playing around and wasting his time. "...I want it!" you plead, almost surprised by the sound of desperation coming from your own words. In the moments that followed, he explained the rules you were to follow and that there'd be 'punishments' for disobeying. The first rule was simple-- you were to do what you were told. The second rule, was to keep your mouth shut unless you were instructed otherwise. No talking, no unauthorized movement and no cuddles.

You were on your knees, bent before this unknown male. If you hadn't been aware of your position before, the feeling of a hand on your upturned ass was more than enough to make you notice. Without thinking, you unintentionally let out a sharp inhale of breath. Though it was involuntary on your part, the hand on your ass immediately became a smack. A sudden jolt of pain radiated through your body as a second spank lands squarely on your rump, his palm connecting perfectly with your denim covered cheek.

"Pretty sure I told you to keep quiet," he warned, delivering a third, equally firm spank across your behind. You frown into the cushion, whimpering pathetically as you're hit with a fourth. "You gonna behave and keep your mouth shut?" he asks, ignoring your whimpers. When the fifth strike lands on your backside, you yelp, your only option available being to nod, as your words were useless. Relieved that number six didn't appear to be on the way, you're instead treated to the feeling of cloth being drawn across your face. Your arms behind your back, you clench your hands into fists. The man covers your eyes with a hefty blindfold, tying it securely around your head--- a little too tight for comfort.

Frightened yet excited, you feel his palms reclaim your ass. He was using both hands now, squeezing your rump like some kind of inspection agent. Fingers curled, squeezed and twisted against your still covered rear, the flesh like putty in his hands. Having claimed victory in subduing you, he was now free to explore and enjoy it. He was no longer holding your face down against the sofa, but you kept your head buried in the cushion all the same. Half out of fear, half because he hadn't given you permission to move.

The hands on your ass cease their indecent groping, your cheeks a little sore as you feel the large male reaching beneath you in search of your belt buckle. You obediently refrain from moving or speaking, your hands instead twisting against your bindings in inexplainable frustration. He was knelt directly behind you, one arm either side of your waist, and you could swear you felt his crotch pressing against your spanked rear. The hands around your hips unfastened your belt, pulling it apart before doing the same to the button of your jeans. The softest of whimpers escapes your lips as he slowly and purposefully lowered your zip, soft enough that your sounds were cancelled out entirely by the sofa.

Grabbing you by the hair, you're pulled into a kneeling position and turned around to face your attacker. Blindfolded as you are, you're unable to see what's happening, but you can instinctively feel his eyes upon you. You think about breaking the silence, but quickly think better of it. There's no telling what he'd do after already warning you twice. "...not bad!" he breathed, his breath slightly ragged from the rough, physical assault. If you'd been able to see how his eyes were undressing you, though, you'd have realised it was more-so to do with his rising arousal than any sort of fatigue.

Your jeans were undone, but still pulled up to your waist. With the zipper all the way down, your black lace underwear was now visible. The thought of that made your cheeks flush red, but there was little you could do about it. The man knelt before you, his breathing a little louder due to the closed distance. Just when you think you could actually 'feel' his breath upon your face, his hands begin unbuttoning your blouse. You gasp again, your body twisting is mild defiance, but it does little to dissuade him. Two buttons, three... four... your mind raced. You could feel the cold air on your chest and knew the black lace of your bra was more than visible to him now. Your breasts heaved inside their laced confines, your heart racing as the final button of your blouse was gone. Gripping either side, the man pulled your blouse open, helping himself to the view.

Heart beating fast, the silence is almost maddening. He releases your blouse, pulling it down over your shoulders, keeping you exposed. You hear his feet moving on your living room floor, tossing his bag of 'fun' aside. Your sight taken away, all you can do is listen and wait. The sofa creaks behind you, your attacker taking a seat directly behind your kneeling form. "...ah!?" you yelp, the strong male pulling you back, your shoulders landing between his open thighs. Attempting to move away, he grabs your hair and pulls you back again, wrapping his other hand around your throat. "Keep your ass where it is," he instructs in frustration, the hand on your throat guiding your blindfolded visage upwards to face him. The hand in your hair strokes your cheek, his grip on your throat ensuring you cooperate. "Got it?" he asks. "If you can't follow simple rules, I have no interest in you." You nod, your heart pounding in your chest. You've never been handled in such a way, by anyone. You didn't have time to think about it, but the roughness of what was happening had already begun to resonate.

"I can't hear you," he snapped, slapping your cheek lightly, yet hard enough to get your attention. "Answer my questions," he added. "Other than that, you speak when you're spoken to."
You speak, having to wet your lips briefly due to how dry they'd become. "I... understand...," you breathe, subconsciously biting your lip following the exchange. You could almost hear his smug, approving grin-- the rough male calling you a 'good girl' for the second time.

One hand on your throat, his slid his other slowly down from your shoulder, his fingers tracing against your skin. You swallow, his fingertips already stroking across the swell of your breasts. When his hand slid inside the laced cup of your bra, you can do little but focus on your situation. His fingers curled around your entire orb, his palm squeezing around the ample tit-flesh which now filled it. Your hardened nipple slid against him, obscenely pert and waiting. Twisting it between his fingers, he spent a decent minute enjoying himself before removing his hand and moving it to your other boob. Your face was kept angled upward, allowing him to gauge your subtle responses-- and when he removed his hand from your throat, you subconciously kept it that way, allowing him to fondle both of your mounds at the same time.

Keeping one hand full with your left breast, your attacker slides his right hand down your body and in to your knickers. The lace of your underwear bulges, now stuffed full of his large, masculine paw. He strokes your pubic hair, his lips close enough to your ear that you can hear his breathing deepen. Two fingers slide down between the lips of your pussy, spreading them with lewd authority. You were warm, moist and ready. There was no hiding it, and the way his fingers cruelly rubbed through the entire length of your aching cunt, you knew he was revelling in that fact. Circling your clit, he breathes whispered comments in your ear, adding to the humiliation, but also to your rising state of arousal. Comments of how wet you are, how sweet your pussy feels, the indecent amount of titflesh he was squeezing and the way your body reacted... the sounds of your soft whimpers, and the furrowing of your brow. Things which didn't need to be said, he was saying them all-- with a smug, imperious tone.

Minutes pass, his fingers on your pussy stroking and playing, yet never stopping. He worked your clitoris, massaged your mons and spread your labia, savouring the warm, sticky feel against his fingertips. He occasionally switched which tit he fondled, but the attention on your honeypot never wavered. Sweet nectar coated his digits, and as the minutes passed, you became less and less able to stifle your growing reactions. Moans, whimpers and hitched breathing were becoming near-constant. Soft at first, but increasingly more intense as he fingered you with expert like dexterity. Your mouth hung open, your body leant back fully against your attacker. You were going to climax... he was going to make you climax on his fingers, tied up and blindfolded in your own living room. ---You wanted to. Needed to.

"Al... almost..." you breathe, all but giving yourself to the moment at this point. Your jeans which had started at your waist, now laid in a heap down at your knees.
"You ready to squirt right here?" he asks, his breath hot against your ear, his words teasing you almost as much as his fingers. However, before you're granted the sweet release his fingers had promised, they suddenly stopped moving-- your attacker removing his hands from your body.
"...eh? Why...I...?" you pant, confusion, humiliation and arousal wracking your entire body.
"Pretty sure I made it clear that you were only to speak when told," he stated cruelly. "Seems you still need to be taught a lesson."

Hands on your shoulders instruct your kneeling body to turn 180 degrees until you're knelt, facing your attacker.
"Let's get that mouth working on what it's 'actually' good for," he states. It was clear what he intended, but that didn't stop him from smacking you across the lips with his already-erect cock. You instinctively pull away, but a familiar hand in your hair guides you back, pulling your head fully against his groin. "Do it properly and I'll think about cutting your hands loose so you can tend to yourself while you work," he grins.

Still flustered by your own stolen climax, you allow him to hold your face against his crotch, his masculine scent filling your nose and assaulting your senses. Three words are all it takes for your body to move.

"Get sucking. Now."

• Add Comment
• View Blog