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Dancing Into Power [bdsm, champagne, power, pain,
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
Dancing Into Power
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She was breathtaking. Michael had watched her go by his window
almost every day. If a young woman could be described simply by
saying she looked like trouble and heartbreak, this beautiful young
lady was it. He had lived there for a year; when he first moved in
she was almost always seen in the company of a silver-haired
distinguished looking man, and she always appeared to be completely
smitten with him. Michael hadn't seen him around for quite awhile,
and had only a nodding acquaintance with this beautiful upstairs
neighbor, so he had never questioned her about it. She always
looked sad now, and slightly lost. He knew she was a dancer, and
that her name was Juliana; he could always hear her music, hear her
dancing, but had managed thus far to avoid any further involvement
in spite of his attraction. Looking at her reminded him of the old
song lyrics, "some women leave you counting stars in the night".
Tonight Michael was celebrating. It was after midnight, and he
had signed a long-awaited book contract earlier in the afternoon.
He carried a bottle of champagne home with him from the
celebration. First he had toasted success with his agent, then he
had toasted the future with his friends at dinner. Later at the bar
he had toasted women , but now he was home, and toasting
loneliness. He was considered a very handsome and charming and
talented man, and he always knew he could find a dozen women to
entertain himself with a minimal effort. But he wanted more in
life. He had desires that ran deep, and he often despaired of
finding the right woman who could possibly understand and respond
to those needs.
As he sat on the steps inside the apartment building,
contemplating the merits of good champagne, Juliana came bounding
in the door downstairs and headed up the stairs to her apartment.
She was a vision in white. She had obviously just come from a
dance performance, and she was wearing fuzzy white leg warmers, a
white leotard covered by a tiny white dance skirt, and a long white
loose-knit sweater pulled over it. Her long dark brown hair was
mostly loose and flowing, with just the top of it pulled back with
a white satin ribbon. Her body could stop men in their tracks.
She was not as rail thin as a ballerina, but had a strong powerful
muscled look beneath her graceful small frame. She looked soft and
vulnerable, yet powerfully strong, and she often looked like about
16 years old, in spite of the fact that she was closer to 30. Her
face and hair reminded him of an older version of Brooke Shields.
She had an air about her that made a man want to take care of her,
to fuck her madly, then hold her forever. She came in carrying her
dance bag, a bouquet of red roses from the performance, and a
bottle of champagne.
She nodded politely to Michael coming up the stairs, but their
eyes caught the matching champagne bottles in their hands, and they
laughed. He had never heard her laugh before, it was like the
gentle wind chimes on a summer day. They'd never done anything but
nod and mention the weather, now, suddenly, he knew he had to know
her, trouble be damned.
He stood up in front of her as she reached his step.
"Sit and talk with me," he commanded her. He had no idea why he
spoke to her that way, it simply seemed appropriate. And she
did. She joined him on the step, sitting opposite him, with her
white clad gorgeous legs propped out toward his. They toasted
their success - he spoke of his writing, and she spoke of her
ovations at the jazz dance festival earlier in the evening.
They passed his champagne bottle back and forth, and the talk
loosened. "Tell me about the silver-haired man," he commanded her
again. Her big brown eyes flashed, and finally she said. "He died
in a motorcycle accident 3 months ago. He was my life. He taught
me everything about myself, and he owned me."
The words lay between them. Owned her? He knew well of owning,
and was dumbfounded to think she might be speaking of the same.
She was direct with him, and he loved that trait in women. She
looked him straight in the eye and said, "He was my Master. He
owned me body and soul. I existed to serve him."
"I understand," Michael said softly, holding her hand. "And I'm
so sorry to know of his death. Tell me about him."
The moonlight shone in through the skylight and reflected on
his face as she watched him, debating whether to go farther,
wondering whether to open up to this handsome man, wondering if he
could ever understand the things she would tell him. His eyes
showed such depth. "Please come with me up to my place, and I'll
tell you the story. I've never told a soul any of this."
They entered her apartment, and he stopped in amazement. The
main room was extraordinary. The carpeting was plush and white,
and all of the furniture was white, with red accents of pillows and
other decorations. One entire wall was covered by mirrors, with a
dance barre attached to it. The room looked like pure sex. He sat
down in an overstuffed white leather armchair. She sat gracefully
at his feet, her legs curled beneath her.
"What would you like to know? Where should I start?"
"Lets start with your champagne bottle," he responded. He
opened the bottle, then reached over to her, tilting her head
backwards and pouring a long drink into her mouth.
"Now, tell me everything. Tell me about being owned."
"Well, it was all about sex and sensuality and power and
control and dominance. I needed everything he did to me, the way
he treated me, the way that he hurt me so beautifully."
He reached down toward her toes and pulled her feet up toward
his lap. "Lay back, Juliana," he said, "and relax. Your feet must
always be sore and tired from dancing so much." He gently massaged
her graceful feet, and she stretched back like a cat, with her bare
feet propped up on his leg.
"I needed the pain, I needed him to hurt me. Most of all I
needed the control, the complete and total dominance, the absolute
knowing that I was his personal sex slave."
"Tell me the things that you did."
"Are you sure you really want to hear this, Michael?"
"Oh yes, sweet Juliana, yes. There is nothing more in the world
I want to know than your story."
"Ok, I'll tell you of sex and control. This is how it was. He
trained me so beautifully. He only had to look at me, and I would
know his desire. He had 3 favorite poses, or commands, for me.
He called me 'kitten'. The first command was 'get your legs
spread, kitten.' This meant I was to strip completely, and lie
flat on the floor or the bed wherever we were, and be prepared to
be fucked or used in any way he chose."
She looked up at Michael to see his reaction. He was
entranced. "The second command was ' get your ass up, kitten',
andI was to bend over whatever was nearest, lift my skirt, and
spreadmy cheeks for him, prepared for anything and everything he
wantedto fuck my ass with. The third was 'worship me, kitten', and
I was to kneel, and to always unbutton my blouse to make my nipples
available for him, and open my mouth wide and hold it open, with my
mouth available for inspection and anything he wanted to put down
my throat; then I would close my eyes and place my hands behind my
neck. Sometimes he would have me hold these poses for minutes,
sometimes for an hour, sometimes he would leave the room and expect
me to stay, and sometimes he would call on the phone and command me
into position. It was perfect training for dance. And perfect
training for submission . "
Michael thought that description was worth a caseload of
champagne for this beautiful woman, and he gave the bottle over to
her for her pleasure. He looked carefully at her as she spoke.
She sounded like a complete slut, but here she sat in front of him
looking pure and virginal and young and innocent. It was an
incredible contrast. She was slightly tipsy from the champagne,
but not enough to not be aware of what she was saying.
"Tell me more," he said firmly. "Tell me something you think
might shock me."
She smiled shyly at him, and took another drink for courage.
"I'll tell you of humiliation. Often in front of the mirrors, he
would completely humiliate me. Once he had me posed ass up over a
chair with the cheval mirror set up so I had to watch my ass,as I
spread it." She stood up and posed for him casually, showing him
how she was draped over the chair with the mirror behind her. "I
was forced to watch my asshole as he slowly tried out several
dildoes in it, leaving one deeply strapped in, and then had to
watch as he crisscrossed my thighs and buttocks with red marks from
the whip, making me ask every single time to be hit hard, begging,
'please Master, hurt me'. "
"He always talked to me as he tortured my body, it was part of
the pleasure." Michael watched her intently, alternating his eyes
from her beautiful face to the gorgeous ass that was now up in the
air. " He would say, 'kitten, this is going to hurt. Put this
dildo in your mouth first and get it wet. Now, feel how big it is.
Think you can take something that up your ass? Here, put it deeper
down your throat, open wide, ah, that's it, good girl. you love
when I gag you, don't you kitten. now let's try it straight up
your ass. Ready?' It didn't matter if I was ready , of course,
for my body was never ready for some of the things he did to me.
But my mind was always ready, from the minute he walked in the
door, I lived to serve him. He would tease my asshole as I held it
wide open for him, and I would never know how far the tease would
go, if he would be gentle and slow and tease me for 20 minutes
before he put it in, or if he would grab my hair and just slam it
into my ass, loving my pain, loving my screams, owning me
completely."
Juliana stood up and stretched, removing her long white sweater
as she did so. She turned on the soft, haunting music of Van
Morrison, and started to pace quietly in front of him, overflowing
with words now that she had the chance to tell all of this to
someone who might understand. She paced with such grace, such
fineness, such total unawareness of her body, that even her walking
looked like a dance. The words of Van singing, ' I forgot that
love existed' flowed over Michael, and he knew them completely.
"Tell me more, Juliana. Sit back down here at my feet."
"Oh, he made my feel and know my body, always. And my
nipples. My nipples were his favorite toy in the world. He owned
them.. I still don't feel like they're mine. I've never worn a bra
in my life, and never even wore restrictive clothing across my
breasts when I was with him, except for leotards like this. He
would reach over to me in public and twist one of my nipples just
as easily as he would pat my hair. It was my job to confine my
gasps and my pain to the surroundings. I became an expert at it.
Except that anytime my nipples are touched, my cunt becomes soaking
wet and I want to bend over and get fucked in the ass. I was
trained perfectly. I would often have resounding orgasms from his
abuse of my nipples and breasts." She paused to consider what
she's feeling talking to him, how amazing it is to once again feel
this sensuality.
" Would you like to see my nipples, Michael?"
He doesn't know if it's the champagne kicking in or the hour of
the night, but he can only say, "God, yes."
She lowers the leotard below her breasts, propping them up for
his inspection. "I've always had fairly small breasts, but
something about their 'perkiness' and my large long nipples always
drove him crazy. " He looks at her bared breasts, and they too are
perfect, champagne glass sized, with very hard long nipples, easily
a half inch long.
"You would think that they would be desensitized after all the
things he did to them, but just the opposite is true. Sometimes
when I'm alone at night, I roll over in bed and feel the sheet
against my nipples , and I grind them into the bed rather than my
pussy until I come. They're not pierced, he never wanted that, he
always said piercing got in the way of good pain."
She reaches over and brings out a small black leather box from
beneath a table. "These were his favorite toys, and never a day
went by when my nipples weren't clamped in some way." She opens
the box to show him, and there are a dozen styles of clamps, some
looking small and pretty, some looking like medieval torture
devices.
"One of his favorite things to do was to clamp my nipples, clamp
my labia, insert a couple of clamps deep in my pussy, roll me over
flat on the carpeting, lay his full 200 pounds on top of me, and
let me scream as the clamps on my nipples ground into my flesh, and
slam his cock into my ass, biting my neck, pulling my hair, fucking
my ass, riding me and fucking me like an animal in heat, until I
screamed and I cried and I came, over and over again, and then
begged him for more."
Her voice is so soft, her words so harsh and sexual, her face so
open and vulnerable. Her directness is enchanting. He can detect
a slight blush on her cheeks, as she looks to him for approval.
"May I place these clamps on you, sweet angel?" he asks her
quietly. She notices he has picked out the smallest of them, the
ones that look harmless but hurt the most.
"Oh my, I haven't been clamped in so long, I found I couldn't
do it to myself after he was gone." She looks him up and down,
wondering how much he knows about this stuff.
"Yes, you may, Michael."
He lifts one breast gently, stroking it, stroking the nipple,
opening the clamp, watching her face, deciding whether to surprise
her with a snap or a slow gentle release. He holds the clamp in
place over the nipple,looks directly into her eyes, and commands
her, "Say, please let it snap closed, Master.". She looks at him
in astonishment, at his knowledge, at his firmness.
"Snap it closed, please, Master", she whispers.
And he does, letting it go, hearing her scream, the scream of
pleasure and pain, the scream of surprise at his beautiful
dominance. He strokes her face, and her tears.
"One more," he says. He poses the clamp, and commands her,
"Say, Master, hurt me."
She takes a breath. "Master. please hurt me."
The clamps are in place and he sits back again to watch her
adjust to the sensation. "Go on with the story", he says. "Tell me
about the pain."
"The pain. I never in my life thought I would let a man hit me,
or whip me. Oh, but I did. And I learned to crave it. His
favorite was to whip me while I was still partially clothed, to
whip me so long that the piece of clothing would turn to shreds and
fall from my body. Again, he would always talk to me, telling me,
"kitten, this whip is your lover. it caresses your body with love.
It owns you, and you will make love to it. He had a collection of
different kinds of whips, would you like to see them?"
"Maybe later, my love," he says with a smile, reaching down and
pinching the tiny nipple clamps.
"He would never mark my arms or my upper back, because of my
dance clothes. The whippings were always a surprise, sometimes
weeks would go by without, sometimes every day for a week,
sometimes he would wake me up at 3 in the morning and tie me up on
the bedposts with the need to hurt me, and sometimes I would be
talking on the phone with a friend, and he would prepare to whip
me. Once I was talking with my mother and he came over and lifted
my skirt, bent me over this armchair, lubricated his cock, and slid
it hard and fast up my ass, holding me there. He told me not to
hang up, but rather I chatted mindlessly while his perfect cock
drove me wild, slowly in to the depths of my ass, and then out
until just the tip was caressing my asshole, then driving it back
in with a force that made me come. I came twice while talking on
the phone, and he loved it. He then laid me face down on the floor
spread eagle, propping the phone against my chin, and proceeded to
tie my wrists and ankles to the chair legs. He knew I often talked
with her for an hour or so, and he ordered me not to cut it short.
He played with my body the whole time I was talking, inserting
different toys into my pussy and my ass, lovingly massaging my body
with lotion, stopping now and then to smack my ass sharply with the
riding crop, whispering in my ear, telling me what he was going to
do next. 'kitten, i'm going to examine your ass and your cunt, but
don't let me bother you". And I could feel his fingers sliding in
me, two fingers forcing their way into my ass, the other three
driving into my cunt, and then rocking back and forth with strength
and with power. "
"I was always at his service, nothing in life took priority over
him. He respected my individuality, and never made me miss any
appointments or performances, and he always made sure I was gently
and perfectly loved before my performances, leaving me with a high
that makes people wonder how I dance just that way. Other dancers
take speed, I take sex and submission for my high and my energy."
Michael sits and watches this angel in white, feeling his cock
strain against the fabric of his jeans He thinks it is one of the
most delicious feelings in the world, when all a man wants to do is
strip and fuck. But there was so much more at stake here. He was
reeling with the knowledge of how submissive she was, and with the
thought of what a perfect match they could be. Tears were rolling
down her cheeks as she spoke of her lost lover, and he wipes them
away softly. He was right, he thinks, she is not only trouble, she
is perfection. What to do with a woman like this? He knows what
she needs, what she's been avoiding - she needs a powerful Master
to fulfill her sexually and emotionally, and to help her forget the
past.
"Come here Juliana, and kneel between my legs. You are an
angel."
She obeys, looking up at him through her tears, with eyes of
innocence and desire and just a little champagne. He caresses her
face, and runs his hands down over her breasts to the clamps,
pinching them and twisting them, watching her face contort in
pleasure and in pain. They stay that way for a long time, with no
words, but only power being exchanged and the realization sinking
into her that her loneliness and need may be coming to an end. He
reaches up and removes the white satin ribbon from her dark hair,
letting it fall softly around her face.
"Take me to the bedroom, angel. And tell me more about your old
life."
"Yes, the bedroom," she sighs. " I was never allowed to be
anything but a 16 year old in the bedroom."
They enter it, and it looks like the room of a 16 year old.
The four-poster bed is covered in white quilts and red pillows,
with a white fluffy canopy. The room is filled with red candles,
of all shapes and sizes. Beautiful red velvet restraints are
attached to each corner of the bed.
"Lie down, angel." She shivers at this new name, and his deeply
sensual voice makes her feel like she is on fire.
He slips her slim ankles into the velvet restraints and
tightens them, spreading her legs wide. She lays back on the bed
in anticipation and a slight fear. He takes a swig of champagne
into his own mouth, and then leans over and kisses her deeply,
letting the drink flow from him to her.
"Watch me, angel."
Michael removes all of his clothes, letting her quietly admire
his body. He moves around the room, lighting candles slowly, as
she watches him in anticipation.
"Unsnap your leotard and remove it over your head." He
positions himself on the bed between her legs as she follows his
orders. She unsnaps the leotard and reveals her beautiful pussy,
which is perfectly shaven. She wears a solid gold delicate filigree
chain that runs around her waist and down through her pussy and
back up her ass.
"I haven't removed the chain in 3 months," she whispers. " Only
he could place it on me and remove it." She pulls the leotard off
over her head.
Michael sits back in awe against the footboard, admiring this
perfect woman. Her feet are strapped up on either side of him,
with the fuzzy leg warmers accenting her legs. She wears the
intense small nipple clamps on her perfect nipples as though they
were a minor decoration. And she presents him with the most
beautiful pussy he has ever seen, shaven and chained and soaking
wet. He wonders, if he continues this, if his heart will ever
recover. But he has no way not to go on, for he is already
captured. She is all that he needs.
"Tell me more, angel," he says softly, as his hands start
slowly up her thighs. "Tell me the bad parts."
"Oh god, yes, there were bad parts. He often told me not to
talk, at all. and that was difficult, for I need to be able to
express myself, through dance and through words." She pauses and
shudders. " But the worst is that he liked to share me with his
friends, which I hated." She gasps as Michael's hands reach her
pussy, gently prying the lips apart, examining, looking, feeling,
caressing. "He would invite 5 friends over for poker and just tell
them, 'kitten is serving tonight'. He wouldn't let them actually
fuck me, but I had to obey all of them, and their hands were all
over me, teasing me and torturing me, and I had to let them fuck my
mouth if they wanted to, and they always did. One time he left the
room on purpose, and I had three of his friends on me at the same
time, rubbing against me, fucking my mouth, twisting my nipples,
finger fucking me, pulling my hair, slapping my breasts. I hated
it. I am a slave at heart, but for only one Master."
Michael slides three fingers hard up into her cunt, and pulls
himself up on top of her to look hard into her eyes. "angel, I
promise you, I will never share you with another man. You are too
precious. You are going to belong to me, my angel, and I will wipe
all the bad memories from your mind and replace the good ones with
even better ones. I am going to fuck you and love you and hurt you
and whip you and laugh with you and pleasure you until we know
nothing but each other and our exchange of power and love. Do you
understand, angel? Will you agree to submit to me completely and
willingly?"
She is breathless at his knowing and control of her. "Yes, my
Master."
"Take the last sip of champagne, angel."
She drinks quickly, never taking her eyes off of his.
"Now, hold the bottle upright between your breasts." He
unfastens the chain she has worn so long around her pussy, and
drops it into the bottle. "That is the end, angel. The old life
is gone, and the new will be far better." He positions himself
back between her restrained legs and lifts her ass in the air,
posing his cock at the edge of her asshole. "I need to claim you,
angel, and to open you up for me. i'm going to fuck your ass with
my hard cock, and then i'm going to open up your pussy for my
loving. Are you ready for this?"
"oh god, yes."
"Yes, what?"
"Yes, my Master, I am ready for you," she whispers.
He lubricates his cock with her wetness, and slowly,
exquisitely, slides it into her ass, inch by inch. Then he stops,
holding her there, impaled on his cock." Oh yes, my angel, you are
a perfect fit." Her head is back, eyes closed. "angel, I want you
to watch this. Open your eyes. Hand me the champagne bottle."
She hands him the bottle, hearing the old chain clink inside of
it. "I'm going to fuck you slowly with this bottle, my love, until
the neck of the bottle reaches completely inside of you. I'll go
slow, but if it takes us all night, we'll do it. I need you ready
for my hand and for my fist, angel, because it will be up inside of
you often. You will always obey me. And, angel, I am going to
hurt you every morning, in some way. Some days I will spank you,
others I will only fuck you hard with no preparation, some days
will be meant for whipping. Sometimes I will let you choose your
pleasure and your pain. You will always feel me on you, and know
that I am with you, protecting you, loving you, keeping you safe
from the world. And you will dance for me, my angel, oh yes, you
will dance for me."
His cock slides almost out of her ass, and then hard back in,
and she writhes on the bed. "We're going to fuck all night tonight,
my love, and we're going to talk all night. You're going to tell
me all the secrets of your soul, and your dreams and your fears,
and I will tell you of mine. This is about so much more than sex,
angel, this is about our hearts and our souls and our minds and our
bodies, and will be about our complete intimacy of each other
before long."
She looks up at him in complete trust and desire.
"Take the clamps off of both nipples at the same time, angel."
Juliana gasps as she obeys and removes the clamps, feeling the
pain surge back through her nerve endings, and as she arches her
back into the pain, Michael inserts the neck of the champagne
bottle into her cunt, twisting slowly as he drives his cock into
her ass once again, until she can't tell where the sensations are
coming from. She grabs the bedposts with her hands to brace
herself; and then she lets herself go, loving and flowing into him,
fucking the bottle and the man and his cock; and they talk and
they love and they fuck through the night, toasting each other,
toasting to sex, to power, to pain, to sensuality, and most of all,
to love.
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