Over the next few weeks with The Conqueror we begin a formal D/s relationship. It starts one afternoon kissing on my sofa and me grinding out an orgasm in his lap through my soaking wet knickers while he remains fully clothed. Each time we meet I set new limits. He can restrain me. He can use toys on me. He can make me perform for him. He can punish me. Each time I trust him more and more until we get to the stage where we type up and sign our own D/s contract. Writing it is so hot. The list of rules, the list of punishments. This is my first real experience of this formality and I crave that certainty. If I behave in a particular way he disapproves of I will get spanked, lashed with his belt, caned, tortured, or denied climax. The rules are fun. I am always late so I have a list of minor, serious, and major depending on my lateness. I have to send him a photo in my underwear or naked every morning. I have to refer to myself as s in writing not S (which sometimes happens with predictive text!). I am not allowed to climax without permission. I have to share climaxes apart with him by recording audio or video. I set out my hard and soft limits for him: free to use, soft limit, hard limit. He accepts them all unquestioningly. I start a conversation about them and we talk about the ones he would like to change when I am ready. He would like to pierce me or brand me in some way. The thought makes my knees weak.

Our next session together is out of this world. Five hours or more of me bound to my dining room table. Spread eagled or hog-tied as he chooses. He rewards me with wine dribbled into my mouth from his. He punishes me with spanks, lashes, and caning until my arse is red raw. I ejaculate for the first time as he beats me. I feel it squirt out and onto my leg. I don’t tell him until afterwards and then he makes me lick the table clean. He fucks me everywhere with everything he has at his disposal. Dildos, vibes, plugs, his foot, his fist, his cock. He tortures my nipples and makes me come hard as he does. He alternates between making me taste my wet knickers shoved deep into my mouth, making me beg to climax, or having my mouth filled with his hard cock all the way to the back of my throat. He videos it on my phone as agreed and I watch it afterwards loving the sound of gagging as I take all his length again and again. He comes all over my face and photographs it. He photographs my beaten arse. He videos my cunt being fucked. My arse too.

Our sessions carry on for the next few months. He designs a website to book them through. We call them therapy. We fuck everywhere. We share every fantasy. One of my favourite fantasies is coming home and being grabbed and fucked. Call it a rape fantasy if you will although I have to say I dislike that term. I want a man to lie in wait for me and when I arrive home drag me to the ground. I want him to rip my knickers off and shove them deep into my mouth before fucking my desperate body till I am sore. The Conqueror would add to the fantasy by saying he would wear a mask to cover his face. He would use a knife against my throat. He would come all over my whore body and leave me there on my living room floor completely used. I have a similar fantasy to be acted out in a car park late at night. We talked about how to make them a reality for me. I would quiver with pleasure at only the thought.

It all sounds wonderful except the Conqueror is very married. He’s done this before with other women and we have an illusion clause in our contract. We also have a fidelity one. I am not allowed to fuck anyone else. He’s not allowed to apart from his marital duties. Slowly over our many therapy sessions, the cracks in our trust start to show. My fantasies that seemed so possible with him start to drift back into my imagination. I cannot give him my all because he does not have his to give in return. We break it off once. We break it off twice. Now we are staring at the third time and I know this will be it. No more fucking. No more training, punishing, loving, and using. And my heart is happy because she never liked this from the start. And my mind is content because it is starting to damage me and the progress I have made in my own mental wellbeing. But my body is angry. She wants fucking, punishing, using. And her urges are so very very strong. It’s going to take everything my heart and mind have to keep her under control …

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