BDS&M Mini Series Pt1: Meeting Mr J #kookv

I knew there was a part of me that was different from most, if not all, of my friends.

Sure, we all want to fall crazy-in-love with a cool, fun, smart, sexy, successful guy. But there was something a little different happening in my head.

Late at night, in the private darkness of my bedroom, my fingers would wander, along with my thoughts. My imagination's storyline wasn't rooted in romance.

The more the guys catered to me, the less interested I became. Don't get me wrong, I like sweet attentive men – as friends, maybe. But guys like that just don't excite me.

To find one's way into my late-night fantasies, my suitor required an entirely different style.

I would envision myself strung up from the ceiling, hanging by my wrists, body covered in sweat, tears falling on my chest, while some man I cherished stood behind me with a whip.

I craved a strong unforgiving dominant that would put me in my place.

~~~

Meeting Mr J

In our discreet and underground BDSM network, my clients whip me for a price, so I'm paid well.

For my part, I'm severely whipped on various areas of my body, or possibly on all of it, then almost always thoroughly fucked, or used sexually in one way or another.

The terms of my contract with each client were discussed over an interview. These interviews ensured that they had my consent.

Clients have never and would never take on a submissive without their genuine consent.

So here I found myself standing completely without clothing in front of a man ten years my senior.

The room itself was remarkably large, this was one of the most expensive loft suites in the city. It wasn't cold, but I was trembling a little, more from nervousness than the temperature. 

Once inside the suite, there was very little small talk before I'd been told to remove my clothing as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

Indeed, this guy had money and the word was it was all self-made. His real name is Jeon Jungkook, the head of a financial securities company. 

Everyone simply called him - Mr J.

He was fully dressed and barely acknowledged my naked form.

I stood in the classic submissive pose, hands clasped together fingers intertwined, wrists behind my back and unbound, my feet were planted about a foot or two apart.

The man looked me over and I couldn't help but wonder how many others had endured his stare.

"I take it you've been whipped before?" Mr J asked with indifference in his voice.

"Yes."

We talked about my past, my ex-boyfriends, early experiments with bondage, my first spanking, my first experience, the first time I sucked two cocks in one night.

The truth was, I was not nearly as experienced as I tried to let on and Mr J saw through that pretty quick.

Nevertheless, he knew I had potential. He could sense I had a high pain tolerance, with a naïve willingness to let practically anyone do almost anything to my body.

"So.. basically you're nothing but a dirty little bitch in heat, aren't you?"

"Yes, Sir," I answered, my eyes lowered.

"A total slut, willing to be whipped like a common whore, is that what you are?"

He wanted me to spell it out.

The humiliation of having to explain myself, reinforcing my true consent.

"Yes, Sir. I must be. I'm sorry for what I am. It's true. I am a slut. And yes, I enjoy being whipped."

"Deep down you have no idea if you have what it takes to be a true whipping-bitch, isn't that right?"

Oh fuck.

How would I answer that? 

He was right. 

Sure, an ex gave my ass a taste of the cane once and one of my friends had taken a belt to my body but could I endure a real whipping?

Who knew?

All I knew was I wanted to try.

"Sir, I can promise you I will do my best to endure anything done to me."

He finally said, "I'll send you for a test whipping. And we'll go from there."

I had successfully passed my first interview.

~~~

All had gone well, I was given a good report. I endured my first real whipping like a champ.

It hurt like hell and it was worse than I imagined it would be.

At times, I was convinced I would yell my safeword at any second, but I didn't cave in. I was willing myself to hold on for just one more strike, then one more, and another, I did not break.

In the end, I was a 'whipped' whore.

A week later, I stood before Mr J for the second time, fully naked again, my hands in the same position. He quietly examined the fading marks on my body. He had experimented with a variety of instruments, but most of the evidence was gone.

"Spread your legs a little further apart."

Mr J stood directly before me as I did what I was told.

"Can you smell something?"

I blushed. 

I was hoping he wouldn't pay any notice.

I was hard and leaking. 

Displaying myself in front of him, in this manner, was spontaneously arousing me.

"I… I'm sorry Sir…I-It's me."

What else could I say?

"Pathetic. You should be ashamed."

I was.

I was ashamed.

Especially when he made me spread my legs further apart, so he could run his fingers along my sides.

It was the first time Mr J touched me with his fingers, he expertly avoided my cock, or else I'm sure I would have cum right on the spot.

Instead, he swiped a stream of leaking precum and then brought his wet finger up to my mouth.

"Lick your stench from my fingers, you dirty whore."

I did as I was told, my tongue extended and I lapped at the digit that was presented to me.

I tasted myself.

That familiar taste.

I sucked his finger into my mouth, thoroughly cleaning any remaining trace of my essence.

"How did you feel the week before the whipping?"

At first, I tried to get away with giving a vague answer, but he was having none of that.

Mr J was highly intelligent and very intuitive – I realized at that moment that fooling him would never work. He demanded my full and unfiltered honesty. And made it very clear that if I wasn't willing to trust him, disclosing my innermost feelings, our relationship was doomed to fail.

He repeated the question, "How did you feel the week before the whipping?"

"I was on edge all week. I was nervous. At times of weakness, I worried I wouldn't have the courage to go through with it. Then, a few minutes later, I'd be wildly excited by the prospect of being whipped."

"How did you react, during this emotional roller coaster?"

"I was highly aroused. My cock was almost always leaking. I would masturbate at the mere thought of what was going to happen. Then a few hours later, I was horny again, I could barely keep my fingers away from my cock."

"You were masturbating in anticipation of being whipped?"

"Yes, Sir. I would cum, just thinking that soon someone will be whipping my body."

Mr J smiled. 

He tried to hide it but I noticed his eyes smiling.

My answers were music to his ears. 

He was pleased.

But I also knew that, as I disclosed more about my masochistic nature, I was giving Mr J a green light to push my limits further.

"What's your safe word, doll?"

"Green for more. Yellow to slow down. Red to stop."

"Good, nice and simple," his finger continued stroking my palm, "During your retraining, we will explore your pain kink. I promise you that I will never take away your ability to speak," he smiled.

~~~

Mr J started by inserting the widest butt plug, and when I adjusted he started whipping me from my shoulders with a rawhide Russian knout. The way he transitioned smoothly between a forehand and backhand swing alerted me to how skilled he was with a whip. Each strike was delivered with power and finesse.

My entire upper back was in agony in no time at all. But a few minutes in, he commented warming up before the event begins. The rawhide knout was nothing more than a prelude.

The real whipping was yet to begin. 

Mr J was just warming up, like an athlete before a game.

The knout laid into my shoulders without compromise, and the worst was yet to come, by far. He moved through a variety of wicked instruments and enjoyed the reaction of my skin to each one.

This went on for some time and occasionally he stopped to sip his wine or feel my cock.

"Your body was betraying you, doll."

I nod, "As it always does, Sir."

The pain was almost unbearable at times. But for the better part of two hours, Mr J simply punished my body.

He used many things, at least three different floggers, a soft deerskin one, and one which felt like fake synthetic leather. A bunch of belts, thin, wide, heavy. He used a crop, horsewhip, on my nipples which drove me insane with agony. He then switched to using a cane on the back of my thighs, but thankfully he went easier with the cane. Lastly, he used his hands to spank me.

I wished for it to stop, I wished for him to stop. I secretly hoped he would release me, so we could make love, or at least so I could pleasure him.

At one point, Mr J paused to scan my entire body with his eyes. I was pink and welted in many places. The skin puffy or swollen in a few spots, he seemed satisfied.

I was practically hanging by my wrists at that point, and he knew I was thoroughly beaten not only physically, but also emotionally.

After the whipping, he released my ankles, and then my wrists. I all but collapsed to the floor but he took me from behind, doggie style. He plunged deep into me and started to fuck me hard, pulling on my hair for leverage.

Every time Mr J plunged into me, I could hear him grunt and moan. I knew that I served my purpose, stimulating me further until I came and he prompted me to follow, he cum inside me.

"Filthy fucking bitch."

He then called me his little fuck-toy, and with that he made me lay on my back, on the floor, and I felt a sense of inner peace.

My body was still stinging from the whipping, yet I felt content that I was able to bring sexual pleasure to Mr J.

I was happy simply that he seemed happy.

At that very moment, I remember feeling proud. I didn't dare speak, I just wanted to be at his disposal.

After that we cleaned up then he led me by hand to the couch, we cuddled under a big comforter, played music in the background, we kissed and made small talk. 

Mr J fell asleep with both his arms and a leg wrapped around me. I was careful not to stir, after an hour later he awakened. 

Mr J pushed my shoulders lower and I understood his command. 

"Colour."

"Green, Sir."

He plunged deep and rode me hard and fast, after we came together we went back to the room and he used a long riding crop

One lash wasn't delivered properly, and the end of the whip curled underneath my armpit, with the very tip cutting into the underside of my right nipple.

"Colour."

After that we exhausted ourselves and after he performed aftercare and we ended up cuddling on his bed.

~~~fin

#kookv #kookvau #oneshots #bdsm #miniseries