This is the story of how I discovered that I am a Pain Slut.
My name is Chloe, and I had been dating Chris for about six months since the beginning of our freshman year of college. He was a great guy, and we did all the typical things that young couples do - we went out on dates, hung out with friends, etc. I had sex with him after we had been dating for a few weeks, mainly because it was what was expected. He wasn't my first, but I hadn't been with many boys. Sex was okay, but it just didn't seem like a big deal to me.
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The summer before, I had dated an older guy in his mid-twenties, Keith. It was a short-lived affair, but something happened one night that I couldn't get out of my mind. We were at his place, watching a movie and playing around on the couch. I was interested in the movie, so I was mildly rejecting his advances. All of a sudden, Keith got serious with me. "Turn off the movie. I want to fuck you now."
The change in his tone was stark, and I immediately lost my focus on the movie and turned to look at him. His expression did not seem playful; in fact, it was deadly serious. I suddenly felt myself getting very wet, but I didn't understand why. I wasn't really sure how to react, so I just looked him at him, saying nothing. He stared at me malevolently for a few moments, and I finally replied, feeling like I was giving into his force of will, “Okay Keith.”
With a sudden movement, he grabbed me and pulled me over his lap onto my tummy, pulled down my leggings and panties, and swatted my ass five times on each cheek, extremely hard. It hurt, but I realized that the pain was welcome and also brought a wave of pleasure. Keith had never done anything like this before, and I was so taken off guard that it took me a moment to realize how turned on I was by what he was doing.
My instinct was to struggle, but I did so with the full desire for him to overcome me. I knew implicitly that struggling would make him hurt me more, and that’s what I wanted. He was much bigger than me and easily held me down and kept me from moving. "Stop fucking squirming!" he shouted, and then he swatted my ass another five times on each cheek.
"What the fuck are you doing?!?" I yelled, but only as a means of pushing him to do more of what I wanted. This got me another five swats per cheek. I briefly considered saying something bratty to incite him further, but I chickened out and just relaxed on his lap and heard myself say calmly, "I'm sorry, Keith."
He tugged my leggings and panties the rest of the way off. He pushed me off his lap onto the couch, stood up and took down his pants, and mounted me from behind like I was a bitch. My pussy was absolutely drenched as he shoved his cock into me. It only took him seven or eight hard, fast thrusts before he came in my pussy.
While I didn't have an orgasm, my body was in a state of arousal that I could never recall having experienced before. There was a kind of euphoria that followed the intense pain and my submission to him. It was a warm feeling of satisfaction, of being useful. That moment of submission was like an orgasm of the mind.
We broke up not long after that for reasons unrelated to what happened that night, but I could not stop thinking about that feeling at that moment when I gave in to him, and I knew that I wanted to find a way to feel that again.
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Chris and I met not long after that, and we started dating. He checked all the conventional boxes - he was about my age, good-looking, intelligent, with good prospects for the future. But our intimacy was mediocre for me, and I would just run through the paces. Meanwhile, I couldn't shake the memory of that night with Keith. It wasn't as much about Keith in particular, but instead, it was much more about that euphoric feeling of submission.
Chris's father, Mr. Collins, was in his mid-forties, divorced, and very attractive. He was a serial entrepreneur who had made his money selling three companies he had started over the previous ten years. Chris told me that after his parents got divorced, his father had been "playing the field" for the past two years. He smirked when he told me this, as though he took great pride in his father's conquests.
Mr. Collins was always very cordial to me when I was at their house. He would smile and make small talk. I could never put my finger on it, but something about his demeanor made me feel like he was...appraising me somehow, as though he was taking careful mental notes about my appearance, mannerisms, how I talked, etc. It was the oddest feeling, as though he was slowly taking hold of me in some subtle way through the sheer force of his will.
One afternoon, I had planned to meet Chris at his house. When I arrived, however, he was not yet back from his class at the local university we both attended. Mr. Collins invited me in to wait for him. He offered me a drink, which I gratefully accepted. He poured me some chilled white wine, which was welcome because it was a hot day.
We talked for a while, and when I finished my first glass of wine, he offered me a second, which I accepted. We were talking and laughing about something, when I felt a little dizzy. Mr. Collins saw I was about to fall and reached out to catch me. I suddenly felt myself being held tightly in his strong arms. I regained my balance, but he kept one big hand clamped around the back of my neck.
"Are you okay, Chloe? Are you drunk?" he asked.
"Oh, no, I'm fine, I'm not drunk at all; I just felt a little dizzy there for a moment."
He continued to grasp my neck firmly. We suddenly seemed to run out of words, and I found myself just looking into his eyes. He had a smirk on his face like he knew something I didn't know.
"Why don't we go over to the couch," he said.
He guided me toward the couch, his hand still on my neck. I assumed we would sit next to each other on the couch, but suddenly, he sat down and pulled me over his lap onto my tummy. I was in utter shock that my boyfriend's father was doing this to me, but I was also immediately reminded of my experience with Keith. He put one arm across the back of my legs while he continued to hold the back of my neck with his other hand.
"Just relax, Chloe," he said in a calm, soothing voice.
I still had no idea why he was doing this, but I knew that I liked it. I felt my pussy get wet, even though he had so far done nothing overtly sexual.
"Mr. Collins, what are you doing?"
"I think you know exactly what I'm doing, Chloe. Do you want me to stop?"
I thought about this for a long moment before answering. "No."
"Good. Now, Chloe, you look to me like a girl in desperate need of something. Am I right?"
"Yes, Mr. Collins."
"And what is it that you need, Chloe?"
"I need a man to tell me what to do, to make me do it," I said before I even knew I was thinking it.
"Make you do what?"
"Anything. Everything. Whatever he wants."
"Whatever, who wants?"
"You, Mr. Collins. Make me do whatever you want. Please."
"Get on the floor in front of me on your knees."
I did as he asked, kneeling in front of him and looking up at him.
"Take off all your clothes."
I froze in utter disbelief that this was happening. My boyfriend's father was ordering me to strip naked in front of him.
"Chloe, we can stop this anytime you want. But once you stop, it's over. You'll never get another chance with me."
I looked up at him with longing. I wanted that feeling again so badly. And my instincts were telling me that Mr. Collins knew a lot about how to give it to me. After a few moments, I began to undress. He watched me calmly the entire time as I stripped my clothes off until I was kneeling in front of him once again, but this time completely naked.
"Chloe, do you want me to hurt you?"
A thrill went through me as he asked me this question. He had hit the nail on the head. I had not realized until that moment how much I wanted him to hurt me.
"Y-yes, Mr. Collins."
"'Sir.' You will address me as 'Sir.'"
"Yes, Sir, Mr. Collins. Please hurt me, Sir."
"Get back up on my lap, on your tummy."
I did as he instructed and stretched out my naked body over his lap, still unable to believe that this was really happening. I was embarrassed because I knew I must be getting his pants very wet from my gushing pussy. Without warning, he began to spank my ass. He would raise his cupped hand high in the air and bring it down with violent force. Each time he struck me, it made a loud POP sound. He spanked me five times on my left ass cheek and then five times on my right. I gasped, and my eyes got big and started to water as I absorbed each blow. The pain was intense and stinging, but I did not move. I felt helpless, but I also felt that sense of euphoria beginning in my belly, and I could feel my bare, exposed pussy getting wetter. After spanking me five times on each side, he stopped.
"Well?" he said.
I panicked for a moment, trying to figure out what he was waiting for. Then, it came to me.
"Thank you. Thank you, Sir, for hurting me."
"Good girl. Now go get cleaned up and put your clothes back on. Chris will be home soon."
I slid off his lap and gathered up my clothes. He left the room without another word.
About fifteen minutes later, Chris arrived. I was completely dressed, and there was no outward sign of what had happened with his father. My ass was stinging underneath my clothes, however. The throbbing pain felt wonderful, and I found myself wishing that he hadn't stopped at five spanks per side. I also wondered if Chris and I would end up having sex later in the evening and if he would notice the redness of the skin on my ass. This caused me to feel fear, but it also gave me a cheap thrill to have this secret with Mr. Collins.
During the following week, I couldn't get Mr. Collins off my mind. The way he had so effortlessly commanded me and how I had been so quick to obey. It felt so natural to submit to him, and thinking about doing it again made me feel lightheaded and also caused my pussy to get wet.
Then, one day, I got a text message from Mr. Collins: "Chloe, you will come to my house at lunchtime tomorrow." I wasn't sure how to react. Was I going to let this happen again? Right under my boyfriend's nose? It only took me a few minutes of contemplation to conclude that, yes, I was going to do it. I felt like I would risk almost anything to have him hurt me again.
The next day, I arrived at his house at lunchtime, wondering what he had planned for me. I rang the doorbell, and a few moments later, he came to the door. He opened it and immediately turned around and walked towards the kitchen.
"Get inside and close the door. Go upstairs to my bedroom and into my master closet. Take off your clothes."
As if in a trance, I followed his directions. I walked inside, closed the door, and walked up the stairs. I had never been in his bedroom before. It was neatly organized, with a king-sized bed and a large walk-in master closet with plenty of room to stand. One side of the closet had no clothes hanging from the wooden rod that ran all along the length of the closet. That side seemed oddly empty, but then I noticed something leather hanging over the rod. A closer inspection revealed that it was a pair of leather wrist restraints. This realization sent a thrill through me.
I stepped into the closet, and I did as I had been commanded. I stripped off all my clothes and stood there waiting, completely naked. I must have been in there for at least twenty minutes. Several times, I started to call to him, but then I thought better of it. Mr. Collins seemed very deliberate, and if he had me waiting, he was doing it on purpose.