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The perfect dirty little sissy girl...that would be me.


"Where is he?" I asked.

"Six feet under," He answered. He then grabbed knife and fork and sliced through the sandwich. Neat, clean, and fast, he destroys his panini in minutes when I'm on my last three bites.

"Let's talk about the tools."

He leads me to his room. With a flick of the switch, I'm introduced to Eros himself. The wallpaper is a rich maroon hue, illuminated by the glow of the soft lamps. Dark mahogany furniture stands out against the red like black outlines. His black curtains are drawn, giving me no idea if it's night or day. His bed is of black silk sheets and a simple red comforter set with plush-looking pillows. What caught my eye was the headboard: iron enforced with vertical bars that have large spacing. The glint of something silver hanging on one of the gaps peaks my curiosity.

Gale walks into his closet and pulls out a large black toolbox. A few twists of the combination lock and the box is popped open. He pulls out everything and lays them out in single file.

"This is a flogger," he says, holding up this whip-like thing that reminded me of Caligula. "This is used for stimulation of the senses, for punishing, and for pleasuring. However, you must not hit someone on their stomach. The stomach is one of the most sensitive places to be hit at."

Without warning, he hits me on the arm with the flogger.

"Ouch! What the hell, man!" I yelp at him.

"I want you to get a taste of what you'll be using. You're getting paid to try out all of these tools so you'll have a better understanding of how to use them."

"Try them out as in...you're using them on me?"

"Well, I'm clearly the one with more experience in this."

"I don't see why. You're younger than me."

"I'm 19, not 12. And how old are you?"

"...Shut up and test these things out on me."

For the next three hours, I've been introduced to floggers, whips, paddles, O-rings, and wax-play galore. I now know how to take good care of handcuffs, where the right places are to pour hot wax, and even how to bind someone with rope. I lie on his couch, panting, sweaty, and strangely satisfied as the wax cools on my tits and inner thighs. He stands over me, his fingers slowly peeling off the wax from one of my nipples.

"How you feel?" he asks, but his voice is so far away. I'm coming down from my sexual high; everything around me is white noise. I just want to lie back and enjoy it, until I feel a hand grab my locs and yank them so hard my neck snaps up. Gale's eyes are boring into mine; his once chill greens are now piercing blues.

"I think you've forgotten that for the next three days, I'm your Dom. And what is the main rule we went over when you agreed to this?"

"Answer when spoken to," My lips say, but my voice is so foreign. It sounds airy, docile, and complacent; it scares me.

"Very good," he purrs. His hands slide down to cup my sex.

"Tell me what your punishment is for disobeying that simple rule."

"Twelve whacks to the pussy."

"Are you going to count them for me?"


"Yes what?"

"Yes, sir."

"Spread your legs for me."

I do; I doubt they could spread any further than they are now. Gale stares at my pussy like he's inspecting it; those eyes and fingers rubbing and prodding make me feel I'm visiting the gynecologist all over again. Not. Sexy. At all.

I jump when he blows hot air on it, his lips brushing against the freshly grown hairs. I feel myself getting hot and bothered when he kisses it gently, his nose nuzzling against me. I bite my lip to hold back my moan; I won't fall for that trick again.

He gets up and rummages through his trunk of doom, fishing out the flogger.

"Ready to start counting, whore?"

"Yes, sir."

Whack. The first hit graced over my mound.

"One," I yelp.

He hits me again, this time catching the right lip.


His blows become calculated and timed; he knew when, where, and how hard to hit.

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