A Wild Ride

Chapter One-1

Chapter One

My iPod was playing in the background, as I surfed the net. I had been checking out a few porn sites and came across one dedicated entirely to Femdom stories, videos and pictures. They peaked my interest a little. No, actually they excited me quite a lot. By the time I finished reading one about a young college guy who was tightly strapped over a bondage horse and having his ass brutally whipped, my c**k was as hard as a fireplace poker and steadily dripped drops of per-c*m. I read on, as he endured a savage beating from a beautiful woman clad in sexy black leather lingerie.

I pushed my jeans and underwear down to my knees and stroked my d**k while I continued with the story. She used a long, thick leather strap to redden his ass and leave dozens of dark purple welts crisscrossing his butt. He screamed and yelled from the intense pain, but his c**k was as hard as mine. As the intense whipping continued, he fought and struggled against his bonds, trying to escape the agonizing pain, yet wanting more. I imagined that it was me who was locked helplessly over that padded bench. I wanted to feel every stroke of her whip across my ass. I would have changed places with that guy in a heartbeat. My hand rubbed harder and faster, as the tawse painfully bruised and blistered his tender flesh over and over again. As his Mistress finished his brutal torture, my balls rumbled and roared, releasing their load. Gobs of steaming sperm shot from my hard c**k. Long ribbons of creamy c*m streamed from my long, throbbing shaft. The immense pleasure of my orgasm raged through me. It was far more intense than ever before. At that moment a profound lust for s****l pain and submission was permanently etched within my brain. I finally leaned back in my chair and caught my breath.

“Holy s**t… I wonder where I can find a woman like that,” I asked myself.

After putting that story site into my favorites, I came across some pictures of a beautiful dominatrix who was looking for a slave to serve her. She wore a black leather bra and a tiny little thong. Her fishnet stockings were held up by a matching garter belt, and she wore really tall, stiletto-heeled boots. In her gloved hands was a cat o’ nine tails with vicious looking knots along each of its long, braided strands.

I eagerly studied every inch of that picture over and over. My God, she was magnificent. Finally, I printed it out and hung it on the wall next to my bed. She was my Goddess. I was in love. Something came alive in me that night. I reread that story dozens of times and went to bed every night mesmerized by the picture of my perfect Mistress. I fantasized about being totally naked at her feet and feeling the agonizing, but pleasurable pain of her whip. I jerked off to her image and longed for what she had to offer. I wanted her. I dreamed of serving her. I would be her slave forever.

Hour after hour and day after day I read those stories and was drawn in ever deeper. I couldn’t get those thoughts and desires out of my mind. God, it seemed like I was living with a perpetual hard-on. Even dreams at night contained scenes of bondage and torture, and yet I wanted more.

Those thoughts filled my life, but it was going nowhere fast. Mornings were no better than my evenings. I had flunked out of college and was renting an older, furnished studio apartment by the month in downtown Albany. It wasn’t much, but it would do. I didn’t have a job, but I was eagerly looking for one. There was enough money left from my college loans to last for a few months if I was careful.

Every day I picked up the previous day’s newspaper from the convenience store down the street. The manager there saved it for me, so I could check the classifieds and look for a job. He told me he would give me some part time work as soon as a spot opened up.

During the day I went from store to store looking for work. I went to job fairs but never seemed to get a call. I remember someone once said that you should spend as much time looking for a job as you would working at one. I did. Looking for something was my job every day. After all, there was no way I wanted to go home and live off my parents. I couldn’t anyway. We didn’t get along and hadn’t spoken in months. It was constant. I filled out applications and checked on them every few days. I couldn’t understand it. Nothing seemed to work. I realized I had no experience and couldn’t even put together a decent resume. I was going nowhere fast.

I got some part time work at the McDonalds down the street. The manager knew I needed the job and didn’t have any money, so he let me eat some of the stuff that had been sitting around too long. They were going to throw it out anyway. Sometimes I ate well, and other times it was a little slim.

Nights I stayed home and read on my laptop. I didn’t have the money to do anything else. Luckily I was able to get free Wi-Fi from someone in the building.

One night an older woman, who lived on the first floor, stopped me when I came in. She needed some help. She had dropped some clothes over the back of her washer and couldn’t get them out. Of course, I helped her, and she treated me to some homemade chocolate chip cookies and milk. As I ate, she noticed that my clothes were a little dirty and suggested I bring them down so she could wash them for me. I didn’t want to put her out, but she insisted. She knew I was desperate. I went upstairs and got them, and she put in my light colors. We talked for a while, as I emptied the plate of cookies. I was hungry, and I guess she was lonely. The first load was finished, so she threw my darks into the washer. It was a rather pleasant evening, and I had clean clothes without having to go to the laundromat. That costs a lot on money. A few days later I put on a clean pair of jeans and found a twenty dollar bill neatly tucked in the pocket. I knew where it came from. Mrs. Hansen became my guardian angel.

One afternoon I asked a cute little blond who worked at McDonalds with me if she wanted to go to the movies. I told her it wasn’t really a date, because I could only afford the movie. She laughed at me and walked away. That night I sat at my computer, read some more stories and later jerked off.

That month my cell phone was turned off and things just got worse. Now they couldn’t even call me for an interview. Finally, Bob at the convenience store had me work on Saturday nights from four to eleven. It wasn’t much, but it helped.

There was a small television running in the office at the Stewart’s Shop. Between customers I saw a small segment here and there. I caught just the last bit of some controversy about people who advertise in the personal section on Craig’s List. I went back to the register and sold a guy a pack of Marlboros. He looked eighteen. Hell, he looked thirty, so I didn’t bother to check his age. Someone in the main office just happened to see me not check his ID on their surveillance camera. I lost my job over that one the next day. Bob was unhappy about it, but he didn’t have a choice. I wasn’t mad. It was my own damn fault.

A couple of nights later I decided to see what all the excitement was on Craig’s List. I clicked on the Personal Ads for Albany, NY.

There were dozens of ads for men looking for women, but very few where women were searching for a guy. Actually most of them were guys looking for guys. Then a different ad seemed to jump right out and grab me.

“Woman seeks young submissive male for fun with ropes, whips and paddles. I’m in my early 30’s - tall and slender and love to show off my sexy body in leather lingerie. No long term commitments, just an evening of exploring your limits. Call me at 518-445-6170. No $. Let’s talk.”

I read it over several times and looked at the picture that I had previously hung on my wall. Then I reached down and adjusted my jeans, as my c**k began to grow.

“f**k! I wish my phone worked.”

After writing down the number, I went back to reading stories and looking at pictures. I suddenly looked at the clock. It was 9:15. I had time. It only took me about ten minutes to walk to the convenience store. I figured I could borrow a phone for a couple of minutes if Jeff was working.

I smiled as I walked in, because he was there.

“Hey, Jeff, can I use your cell phone for a minute? Mine got shut off.”

“Sure, bud.”

“Mind if I use it outside?”

“No, go ahead.”

I stepped outside and pushed the number. On the third ring she answered.

“Ah… ah… I just read your personal ad on Craig’s List.”

“Yes, are you interested?” she said in a real sexy voice.

“I think so.”

“You call me about being tied up and whipped, and you only think so? How old are you?”

“Nineteen.”

“So what makes you think you can handle this kind of stuff? Do you like pain?”

“I’m not sure, but when I read stories about kneeling at a woman’s feet and being brutally whipped, I get… ah… ah… I get really hard.”

She laughed.

“Why not get a girlfriend and try some normal s*x or just jerk off, if you’re that horny?”

“I have, but that’s not what I want. I need something else.”

“What do you want?”

“I want to… ah…. Look. I’m on a buddy’s cell phone. Mine was shut off. I flunked out of college and rent a small studio apartment off Henry Street. Can I email you or talk to you on webcam?”

“Sure. What’s your first name?”

“Nick.”

“Do you have Skype?”

We exchange information. She said we’d talk around ten thirty.

I gave Jeff back his phone and thanked him.

“You get a job?” he asked.

“No… better.”

Later I was in my meager, one room place when my computer beeped and started doing its thing. Suddenly she was there. I was mesmerized, as I saw her. She was beautiful. I could see her full breasts and her long blond hair. Yea, I’m a normal, well almost a normal male… I noticed her round, full, upturned breasts before anything else.

“Wow,” she said. “I don’t know why you aren’t out f*****g some hot young babe tonight instead of waiting for me.”

“Thank you, Mistress, but you have something to offer that those young girls don’t have.”

“What’s that?”

“Ah… whips and ropes and that kind of stuff.”

She chuckled. “Are you ready for what I have waiting for you?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Have you ever had a whip laid across your ass and felt that kind of pain?”

“No, but if you do it, I will gladly accept it.”

She laughed. “Once I start, there will be no escape.”

“I know. That’s the way I want it.”

“You’ve probably heard the expression, ‘Be careful what you wish for’. I think Eminem and maybe even Daughtry did a song with those lyrics. They sang, ‘Be careful what you wish for – ‘cause you might get it all’. Are you ready for all of it?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Remember, there is always the possibility of unforeseen and unpleasant consequences. Are you ready for those as well?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Let me warn you one more time – be careful what you wish for.”

“I will, Mistress.”

“Then tell me everything that I should know about you.”

“Well, I’m nineteen years old and have no future. I drank, drugged and screwed my way out of college.”

“No future? Everyone has a future. You just don’t know what it is yet.”

“Yea… well things aren’t going too well for me right now. I can’t find a job, and I’ve pretty much exhausted any money I have.”

“Things could always be worse,” she reminded me.

“I doubt it.”

“Well in spite of all that – describe yourself physically for me.”

“Ah… well I’ve got dirty blond hair and dark green eyes as you can see. I’m five foot ten and weigh about 150 pounds. I have always worked out, so I’m in really good shape, and I have a… ah… ah…,” I explained as I looked down.