1. G's Story


    Date: 4/20/2017, Categories: BDSM, Author: gushkinbanda, Rating: 1, Source: LushStories

    She walked along quickly beside him, thinking that the heels on these boots were ridiculous and constantly feeling like she should be pulling down her skirt. It wasn't THAT short, she supposed, her actual butt wasn't actually sticking out, but it sure felt like it was about to, especially without panties on (Rule #8 – No underwear, period.). How the heck was she going to sit down? Wait, was there a rule about that? Dammit, there were so many rules to remember that she was sure she'd mess up a hundred times before the night was over. And he had said something about punishment being severe and immediate. He had given her a chance to get out of it, even a chance to renegotiate the rules and punishments, but she had declined. This, strict and rigid discipline, was exactly what she wanted. More than that, it was exactly what she had needed for so very long. But was she really ready for it? He had shown her that she could be a perfect little slut in private, shown that to her beyond her wildest fantasies. And he had assured her that he wouldn't have offered to take her out in public in this role if he wasn't absolutely sure she could do it. Still, she wondered. Her head swam with all the new rules, and she felt like everyone, absolutely everyone, was looking at her. Yes, she was dressed kind of slutty (Rule #3 – Dress exactly as instructed.) but no more than some of the other women out tonight. She felt a little trashy compared to him in his jeans (that fit him Oh So Well ), white ...
    oxford shirt, and dark sport coat but he had prepared her for that. Then she thought, maybe it was actually him that was causing all of the people to look at her. She hated that. She didn't care that he was older than her, why should they? Okay, so the way he held her hand (Rule #6 – Always walk on his left side. Rule #12 – Never let go of his hand unless and until he tells me to.), always held her hand, and how he kissed her forehead whenever they stopped at a crosswalk (Rule #4 – Say thank you for any display of affection.) left no question as to their relationship. But he wasn't that much older. Not like her dad or anything. Well, not quite anyway. And she was particularly glad he was with her and holding her hand now. This was not a nice part of town. Not that it was exactly dangerous but you heard stories. Stories, she thought; it was stories that had gotten her into this situation in the first place. She had always been a little uncomfortable with how much she thought about sex, and the kinds of sex she thought about. She had met some people online that had helped her get over most of the shame and the guilt but, once in a while, she still felt like a bit of a freak. Then she met him. He made her feel okay - actually, more than okay, good - about being a freak, about being what and who she was. Then he made her feel safe, protected, and secure, right before he terrified her in exactly the way she'd always wanted to be. And she was terrified now. He glanced over at her. ...
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