This is a print version of story The Beginning by voyuerinburgh from

The Beginning

Upon all the meetings, there was always anticipation. A slight worry of possible disappointment. There was nothing to do to really prepare for the meetings, unless there was special instruction. But the typical, was always arrive with no panties on.

That alone, the authority of being told what to do was excitement all in its own. Preying on the ones with authority, or at least authority when I was alone with him. I don't know what he was like in his daily life, I could only assume that he maybe more of a middle man in a working class field, depended on for some things, but mostly reporting to someone else.

This was just as much of a release for him, than it was for me. I found the whole meeting peaceful a way to get a hold of my dominant side, by witnessing the submissive side of it all.

Understanding the role, the actions, the reactions. Being told to crawl to him on my hands and knees,once I undressed nude upon entering the hotel room. The crawling alone on the rough hotel carpet, the harsh touch on my knees, while anticipating the crawl to him, cowering between his legs, between his feet.

The way to a dominants soul and is heart takes place in many areas, his feet, that is where it all begins. Undressing his feet as if they were as delicate as his dress shirt. Untying the shoes with my teeth, being careful not to drool over the tops of his shoes. Slowly sliding them off, then taking his socks off, my hands lightly caressing the top of his feet...then it begins, the kissing, sucking of every toe, the licking up the sides of his ankles. Running my hands up his legs, all while cleaning each and every toe, sucking on it like it was a sign of my oral gratification to come.

The feel of his hand on the top of my head while I steady clean his feet after a long hard day, smelling the scent of overworked. And what of my hard day, what would come of it?

Pulled up and over his knee, I feel my day unfold with every stroke of his hand across my bare bottom. The sting of his ringed fingers, across my taunt butt. Over and over again, feeling the sting, the itch and then burn of the strength of his swats.

Heat rushed over me; even more so when he reached between my legs and felt my damp pussy. Not just a touch, a scooping motion, collecting my excitement into his hand, then him rubbing it all over my face telling me to clean up my own messes.

My mess was only just beginning. What started off as a playful turned into fear induced play, f***ed up against the wall, legs spread, face pushed into the wall, the unclean wall was the least of my problems, the tool inwhich he waved in his hand was the threat I focused on.

A long, hard piece of rubber, in comparison, I would say as close to tire rubber as you can get. He slid it up and down my waist, to my buttock, tickling the already welted area. In his other hand he held a jar, the scent was familiar, a jar of tea tree oil. It only made the sting of each swat even more intense, and so did the smearing of it on my clit. Which was now engorged, throbbing and hot. Pulsating over and over again...Again I dripped down my thigh.

He came in close from behind me, after a nice whipped session came to an end, slightly out of breath he came to my neck, breathing heavy...grabbing my tits hard with one hand and pulling my hair with his other "good little slut, but you have yet to please me"

My abuse taking was only the begging of my humiliating relationship with him. In the end I would leave refreshed and feeling relieved of daily stress. What was to come next before I could leave a happy woman would be another hour of torture, pain and humiliation...I awaited every aching moment of it.

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