S & M III -Vol I Page 3

  Scott blamed his sensitivity. He was always super sensitive to what other people thought and felt about him. He tried extra hard to make friends and impress people. He wanted to be everyone’s friend. He wanted to be the guy that everyone liked. His father blamed it on his female-dominant upbringing; Scott simply thought it was just God giving him a little extra in the emotional department.

  He was used to being The Friend, a place no warm-blooded male in his right mind would want in a group of attractive women. He was the Nice Guy. He opened doors, brought flowers and candy. He even went shopping for feminine products when it was a woman’s monthly. And just when Scott thought it was time to make his move, then came the inevitable speech:

  Scott, thank you for being such a great friend.

  The speech varied from time to time but the gist of it was always the same. Scott was not about to go beyond just friendship with any woman, no matter how much he thought about her while masturbating.

  Scott looked through his closet one more time and loudly sighed. If he tried hard, he just might make it to the mall just before closing.

  ****

  Caprina was fascinated. Just absolutely fascinated. BDSM – Bondage, Discipline/Dominance, Submission/Sadism, Masochism – appealed to every one of her senses. Everything about it turned her on. The discipline. The punishment. The mental sex. The power.

  Definitely the power.

  “That’s pretty much it,” Mistress Rea instructed. She was a petite Asian woman with green streaks in her ebony hair. Her face was plain and unassuming. She had short fingernails that were chipped with black nail polish and wore a simple outfit of jeans and a tank top. Caprina couldn’t believe the woman before her dominated anyone. “Did you have any questions?”

  Caprina had plenty of questions, all right. But time was running out and she still needed to prepare for her date with Scott later that night. She was going to turn the poor soul out. “How do I get to know more people in the lifestyle?” Caprina asked.

  “We have meetings twice a month and every other month, we have what we like to call The Gallery. It is where the Dommes bring in their subs for tea time. We all gather at Mistress Sanora’s home and converse.”

  “How does one become this Domme?” Caprina asked.

  “Do you like people telling you what to do?” The mistress asked.

  Caprina thought about Dimitri’s demands. Keep the kitty contained. “Of course not.”

  “Does inflicting punishment give you a sense of pleasure?”Mistress Rea asked.

  “A little.”

  “Then you’re on your way to being a Domme.” Mistress Rea smiled. She leaned over the counter and picked up a business card. She handed it to Caprina. “Here is the information for the monthly meetings. At one of those meetings, we usually announce the date for the tea time. We ask you don’t be late and bring your sub if you have one.”

  “My sub?” Caprina asked.

  “Your submissive or slave,” Mistress Rea clarified. She briefly wondered if she had to repeat what she just said a few minutes prior.

  “Sounds like a party,” Caprina got up and shook the Mistress’s hand. “I look forward to seeing you next month.” She walked out of the back room.

  Another woman stepped behind Mistress Rea and approached her. “Who was that?”

  “Some newbie interested in the lifestyle,” Mistress Rea commented.

  “Really?” the other woman wasn’t impressed. She had seen many people come and go in the lifestyle. People’s pop culture perceptions of the lifestyle twisted their thinking into it was all about whips and chains. Little did what most people know that they incorporate BDSM in their everyday lives; they just didn’t realize it. “And what did she want to know?”

  “How to become a Domme.” Mistress Rea shrugged. She wasn’t impressed either.

  “She’ll be a Domme, alright,” The other woman folded her arms and leaned against the doorway, “but we’ll see how long she’ll last.”

  Mistress Rea turned around. “You’re not very confident, Mistress.”

  “Here’s something I learned a long time ago: people in love with power or the thought of power are usually soulless individuals,” the woman nodded, “I already feel sorry for the poor soul she has contact with.”

  “So she’s a CHDW?” Mistress Rea laughed. It was pronounced chud-wah.

  “Of course she is,” The woman’s full lips snarled upwards, “a Clueless Horny Domme Wannabe.”

  Chapter Four

  Scott arrived at Caprina’s hotel early, too early. Their date was at seven o’clock and he was there at six. He cared more than he was comfortable with about making a good impression on Caprina. For all he knew, it was a fling and something to brag about to his grandkids when he was old and grey. Caprina probably had other guys she did the exact same protocol with. Scott was no different from the others.

  He ordered a drink as he waited. He was inexplicably nervous. Why should I be? She’s already seen me naked.

  “Are you nervous?” Caprina purred.

  Scott was startled to see her. She had been watching him from afar. “How long had you been waiting?”

  “Not very long.” Caprina smiled. She rubbed his shoulders. “Relax, Scotty.”

  Her voice was soothing like hot tea. Scott already fell in love and didn’t know if Caprina preferred coffee or tea. “I’m fine,” he stated.

  “Good,” Caprina walked in front of him. She wore a slinky black dress that was cut high to reveal a lot of leg. If Caprina made the wrong movement, the whole world would see her bikini wax. “Now let’s eat.”

  The dinner was superb and dessert was heavenly. Scott was surprisingly quiet during dinner. He had always been quiet during his dates. He learned early on from his youth that it was better for a man to just listen when a woman talks, despite if he was bored by her or thought anything she said was absolutely ridiculous. It wasn’t his job to be insulting. It was his job to be a man, no matter how emasculating it was.

  Caprina carefully watched her new toy chew his food. He seemed sweet and kind and wasn’t too bad in bed. He was handsome enough, someone she could parade on her arm and not embarrass her on the red carpet. But he was whipped already. He was too kind and too sweet. He was the perfect candidate to be her whipping boy. Oh, the things I’m going to do to you.

  “Are you enjoying yourself, Scotty?” Caprina purred.

  “It’s a lovely meal, yes,” Scott took a sip of his wine, “how are you? Are you enjoying yourself?”

  “Very,” she answered. Her voice was smooth and languid. “So tell me more about yourself?”

  “Well, what do you want to know?”

  Caprina cocked her head to the side. “Tell me your life story in five minutes or less.”

  “Well, I was born and raised in Georgia, moved here after high school to go to college. I work at McCormick & Sheppard as a creative director for the brand strategy department. All those fancy ads you see in magazines and what have you, I do those. In the meantime, I like to work out, just bought my first house so I’m refurbishing it, and I entertain the world’s sexist woman when she lets me.” Scott smiled.

  Caprina was flattered. Scott was seriously trying to impress her with his charm and didn’t have to pull out his bank account receipts to prove a point. “I like.”

  “So what about you? What’s your life story?”

  “I grew up in Philly to an absent father and a barely-there mother. My foster mother raised me.” Caprina paused as she remembered her past. Caprina Waters was born Ricci Jenkins. Her father abandoned her and her mother, Colette, when she was still a baby. Throughout her young age, she was used to her mother’s revolving door of men. Her mother, once a young, thin, and a ripe beauty had progressively aged due to drinking and partying. She had gained a considerable amount of weight and was a figment of her old self. She was still popular with men due to her bedroom skills. She was a vixen in bed.

  One of Colette’s suitors was a man by the nam
e of Rodrigo. He was burly and often smelled like a mixture of wood, musk, and beer. He and Colette would make love throughout the night, often keeping Ricci awake with their moans. One day when Colette went to work, she left Ricci in the care of Rodrigo. Ricci was in the living room doing her homework when Rodrigo approached her.

  “You don’t have to tell me the rest of the story,” Scott already knew what she was about to say before a word was muttered.

  “Not telling it won’t make the memory go away,” Caprina shrugged. She recounted when Rodrigo raped her several times that day, taking away her virginity. When Colette came home and Caprina cried to her mother about what had transpired, Colette immediately confronted Rodrigo. Rodrigo lied and claimed Ricci came on to him. The last thing Ricci remembered was her mother striking her and she fell to the floor. She passed out from the beating.

  “What happened next?” Scott asked.

  “I woke up in a hospital. I had all these bruises on my body and my face was unrecognizable,” Caprina shook her head, “I had to get stitches just about everywhere and some reconstructive surgery.”

  “And what about your mother? What happened to her?”

  “She told the cops Rodrigo beat on me and he only did three years. When I was let out of the hospital, my mother took off. I went into the foster care system and was placed with this older White woman. She looked like a movie siren from the 40s and 50s. Akira Lakes was her name. I never saw her without makeup or her hair done. She was just the epitome of class through and through. She had some connections in the modeling industry and encouraged me to pursue it.” Akira did more than encourage Ricci to pursue modeling.

  Akira took Ricci everywhere with her from the various fashion weeks in Paris, New York and Los Angeles to modeling shoots. Every afternoon after school, Akira would teach Ricci how to walk. “Move with your hips, then your legs,” she ordered as she watched Ricci walk back and forth in the living room. “Think about those other hussies who want your spot and trust me, there are a ton of them who do.”

  Akira bought Ricci the finest designer clothing and the young girl was dressing in labels such as Gucci, DKNY, and Prada. She couldn’t pronounce half of the names and some of them looked ridiculously tacky. But Ricci did as she was told. Akira was her saving grace and there wasn’t a moment she didn’t forget it.

  “We need to dress you for your body type. You often see these ridiculous girls wearing things too tight for them and their muffin tops spill out. And then you see these other girls wearing these ridiculous sweats and muumuus like they’re about to go out of style,” Akira eyed Ricci up and down, “you have a boyish figure and all legs. Always dress accordingly. I don’t want to hear you becoming some hussy like I see at the street corners downtown.”

  Once Ricci had her walk down and her attire was changed, the last important thing was her look. She had typical African-American features with a wide nose and full lips. Akira didn’t have a problem with the full lips; that would be one of Ricci’s outstanding features next to her legs. The wide nose was an issue. It was time for expert hands. “Straighten and streamline her nose,” Akira told the plastic surgeon, “anything to get rid of that honker on her face.”

  After her nose healed, Ricci met with Akira one last time before her first modeling shoot. Her walk changed, her clothing became designer, and her attitude got a fresh start. The last change was the name. “We can’t have you out there sounding all ghetto like those other ones or you’ll never get hired,” Akira once told her, “from here on out, you’re Caprina…Caprina Waters. It sounds like a river in Lake Cuomo or an expensive wine, doesn’t it? You’ll be my chocolate mini-me.”

  “I went on my first shoot when I was 12 and that’s all she wrote.“Caprina finally smiled.“As far as my birth mother is concerned, the last time I saw her was 11 years ago and she was some crackhead prostituting to the highest bidder. She bugs me whenever she needs money and I give her a few coins here and there. But I really don’t hear from her and that’s perfectly fine by me.”

  Scott instantly felt closer to Caprina. She shared something so personal and profound. He felt he won her trust. “You know, Caprina,” Scott grabbed her hand, “I might be out of bounds by saying this but I really do love spending time with you, even though we have known each other for a very short time.”

  Caprina reciprocated the gesture. It was the first time she felt completely comfortable with a man. “I do, too.”

  Scott beckoned for the check. “So what would you want to do tonight?”

  Caprina’s eyes lit up. She was waiting for him to ask that question. “Have you ever been spanked?”

  Scot blinked fast twice. What did she just asked him? “What?”

  “You heard me,” she sinuously smiled, “have you ever been spanked?”

  Scott slightly shrugged and shook his head. “I’ve done a bit of ass slapping…does that count?”

  “That’s part of it, yes.”

  “But I never had anyone spank me.” Scott thought back to his rebellious childhood. “Well, not for pleasure.”

  Caprina tightly grabbed his hand. “I have a paddle upstairs and I want to use it on you. Let’s fuck.”

  ****

  Well, this is different.

  Scott slightly twisted his head to look at the contraption his arms were in. They were bound to the headboard with rope. Caprina told Scott she was practicing shibari on him and he had to remain steady and patient. He didn’t know what shibari was and was probably sure it wasn’t supposed to hurt as the rope rubbed against his wrists the wrong way. But he wanted to please Caprina. It was something he would be longing to do for as long they were together.

  Caprina climbed on top of Scott and straddled his waist.“Now, I’m going to slip this on you,” she slid an eye mask on Scott. “Do you feel comfortable?”

  Scott really wasn’t. The things I do for pussy. I feel like I’m starring in my own version of Booty Call. “Yes, honey.”

  “No, that’s not my name. You will address me as Ma’am.” Caprina demanded.

  “Yes, Ma’am.” Scott complied.

  “Good. Very good.” Caprina took a candle from the room and lightly poured it on top of Scott’s bare chest. He twisted his body as the wax hardened into this skin. “How does that feel?”

  It fucking hurts. “It feels good, Ma’am.”

  “That’s what I thought,” Caprina poured more wax on Scott’s body and smoothed her hands over the wax drips. She adjusted her position and sat down on his cock. She began to rock her body slowly back and forth as she continued to pour more wax on him. “How do you like it, Scotty?”

  The pleasure of Caprina being tightly wrapped around his cock combined with the pain of the candle wax was messing with Scott’s mind. She touched on all of his senses and he didn’t know what to feel one moment to the next. “I love it,” he moaned.

  “Good. Very good.” She rocked her body faster, bouncing on his cock. She steadied her hands on his chest as she adjusted her position to a squatting one. “I want to taste your cum, Scotty. Can I taste your cum, baby?”

  “Oh fuck, oh fuck…” Scott felt his cock ready to explode. Caprina stopped riding him and began to jack him off, his cock coated with her juices. Shortly after, he did explode, his seed shooting over his body and everywhere else. Once he was done, his body collapsed back to the bed. He was spent and breathless. It was the most intense lovemaking he had ever experienced. He was officially hooked on Caprina.

  Caprina removed the rope from Scott’s wrists and the mask from his face.“Get on all fours.” She demanded.

  Scott looked at her strangely for a moment and wondered if she fell off her rocker. He decided to comply with her. He got into a doggystyle position. The supermodel, it turned out, had an inner freak inside of her.

  Caprina kneeled behind Scott and rubbed his smooth, bare ass. It was perfect. Not flabby, not too soft but just right. She raised her right hand and crushed it against his ass. “Tell me when to stop.”


  Scott wasn’t sure when that would be exactly; the stinging pain was turning him on and turning him out. “Yes.”

  “Yes, what?” Caprina slapped his ass again.

  “Yes…” Scott paused. “Ma’am.”

  “Ah, very good.” The power of ordering Scott around was more delightful than Caprina imagined. When she was a child, she always took pleasure in being the leader, never the follower. She got a sick pleasure making her childhood fantasies come to life. “Kneel,” she ordered.

  Scott had this overwhelming urge to please Her but he didn’t feel like he was anyone’s bitch. Instead, he felt strangely empowered by it.