by Nicola Diaz
BDSM for the First Time
(3 Book Dark Fantasy Boxed Set Anthology)
+ FREE BONUS STORY
All Right Reserved © Nicola Diaz 2015
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
Individuals on the cover are models and are used for illustrative purposes only.
Authors note: All character in this story are 18 years of age and older. This is a work of fiction, any resemblance to real live name or events are purely coincidental.
Be aware: This story is written for, and should only be enjoyed by, ADULTS. It includes explicit descriptions of intense sexual activity between consenting adults. Said activities include, but are not limited to FIRST TIME BDSM, submitting to Male Domination, Blindfold, Suspension, Fireplay and more …….
Note that this work of fiction resembles a fantasy world, all events taking place are a result of a role play amongst all parties and all parties are fully consenting adults.
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Included in this bundle
Exploit Me!
Relax I whisper to myself
The wax drips on my bare chest as he tightens the clamps.
I hold in my pain.
It’s all about the money I tell myself
Eyes around the room glued to my stripped and naked wet body.
There must be dozens of eyes, mind-f*cking me right now, not including the thousands watching me over the Internet.
I tighten my muscles as I know what he is about to do to me.
I thought this would be easy, I would this would be quick money.
I brace myself as he plans on making me earn my money the hard way……
Ok, take deep breaths now…….
Punish Me!
He stands in front me, his eyes show no signs of mercy.
Laid bare, strapped and tied down, I don’t know where he has taken me.
One minute I’m living my normal life, the next, the dark and overpowering masked stranger is staring down at me as I try and struggle free.
He has trapped me and wants information.
My heart is racing, I know he will sexually interrogate me to get what he wants from me.
Who is he and why does he want it.
Moreover, I don’t have the information to give him.
He starts to tighten the straps, lifts me into suspension and lights his fire wand.
As he brushes the flame against my thigh, I close my eyes and clench my fists.
My time is fast running out……..
Violate Me!
My name is Karly and I thought I knew him.
He has stolen my sight, restricted my movement and left me dangling helplessly in mid-air.
I cannot see him, yet I know he wants to sexually torture me.
As I float in the air, every part of me is fully exposed, inviting him to take me..
I used to love him, before he changed.
My body betrays me as he sees it dripping with excitment.
As his breathing grows louder, my body screams for him to punish me , I smell the flame from the torch he hovers between my thighs.
Whatever he has become, I hold my breath as my body begs for him to Violate Me!
PLUS FREE BONUS STORY!
TAKEN BY THE HIGHLANDER
Before you start this selection of stories, you may also enjoy
Ambush Me!
(Dark Fantasy, Medieval, BDSM, Menage)
A BDSM Dark Fantasy Story
My name is Laura and I have heard all the rumours.
The sexual torture, the interrogation and the breaking of a woman’s will.
The Kingdom’s Prince, I want him to take me, hurt me, abuse me and introduce me to his dark and evil world.
I will do anything to lay bare for his punishment.
My set up is complete, the guards are coming to take me away.
My emotions mixed but my body begs for the pain…..
I want it, I want it all, I want the Prince and his guards to Ambush Me!
Click here to read Ambush Me!
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Suspend Me!
(Dark Fantasy, Medieval, BDSM, Suspension)
A BDSM Dark Fantasy Story
My name is Sophie and sometimes I question my decisions.
Strapped and secured.I have no where to go.
I swing back and forward naked in the suspension.
Awaiting the three knocks on the door.
Awaiting my master to take me.
Fully exposed and at his mercy, I take what I have asked for.
Even if I changed my mind, my hands and feet are roped up in mid-air, my body swinging in its unprotected state.
I hold my breath in anticipation.
Knock.....Knock.....Knock..................
Click here to read Suspend Me!
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Exploit Me!
(First Time BDSM, Student, Voyeur, Video Taping)
There I was, standing in front of an eager audience, wearing only my fish-net stockings, a thong, and a pair of black high heels. I knew what these guys wanted, and I knew how to make it worth their while. I started with my sultry cat-walk, and then I approached one of them with a quick flick of my hair and a turn on my heel. I knew that they liked to watch me walk up and down the platform runway, and that they only wanted to keep enjoying their drinks while watching me get my show going.
As it got later into the night, my actions became more deliberate, more enticing, and more mysterious. It was hard to believe that only two months ago, I was still carrying trays with sloppy Italian food and cheap drinks through a stinky restaurant on Mechandless Boulevard. Now that I had a steady income once again, it was hard to imagine ever going back to that kind of work. The BDSM lifestyle was incredibly more unpredictable, and it sure paid a lot better. Still, it was hard not to reflect on where I came from, and what I did before all of this started.
Ronnie’s Italian Restaurant of Santa Monica was always packed on the weekends. I didn’t necessarily mind the work, but I found that it was becoming increasingly more difficult putting up with picky customers every night. I did my best to make sure that they had whatever they needed, but sometimes it felt like I just couldn’t do enough to make everyone happy. One night, I even thought about quitting, but my boss was one step ahead of me.
“Kelly, I need to talk to you as soon as you get drinks out to table eight,” he said with a gruff look on his face. Bill Peters was my boss, and he wasn’t the friendliest guy I ever worked for. I tried to keep my distance from him, but on the weekends it was inevitable because Bill often circulated the restaurant, making sure that everything was in place, and that all of his customers were being served adequately.
I rolled my eyes, wondering what Bill would nag me about this time. I wanted to find a better job, maybe working in an office, or even helpi
ng with gardening work, but for right now this was all I could find, so I tried to be as accommodating to Bill’s demands as possible. I dropped off the drinks at table eight, and then followed Bill into the kitchen. “This should be fun,” I said to myself as I trailed reluctantly behind him. He didn’t look pleased.
I looked around and noticed that all of the other waitresses and waiters looked stressed. Even the cooks looked tired and grumpy. I felt like it would be a blessing if Bill just fired me, and that’s exactly what he did. “Kelly, I’m letting you go. I’ve had too many complaints in just one week, and they all are about you,” he said. “It’s either the food is wrong, or the drinks get messed up, or the bill is totaled wrong,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, but we can’t afford to keep losing money because of you, and I have too many unsatisfied customers. It’s bad for business,” he said.
With that, I untied my apron, slapped it on the counter, and then emptied out its contents. I counted out my money, which wasn’t much, cashed out the rest of my open checks, and then said goodbye to Rhonda, my one friend that had worked there almost as long as I had. “Catch you on the flip side,” I said, and then she walked out of Ronnie’s with my money in her pocket, and my head held high.
The first week away from Ronnie’s was enjoyable. I caught up with my friends, and went out a few times to the clubs in Santa Monica. I liked having the freedom way from work, but reality set in quickly when my landlord, a grumpy middle-aged guy, left a note under my door Monday morning, advising me that my rent was late last month, and was now late this month, as well. I got nervous, and a sense of overwhelming anxiety crept in.
I knew that school would start back up in less than three months, and that I needed to get money quickly, or not only would I lose my apartment, but I’d also lose my roster at the college and have to drop out of my enrolled classes. In a panic, I called my friend, Melissa. “I am in hot water,” I said over the phone. “I need money fast,” I said, pacing my tiny apartment and running my hands through my hair.
“I guess we shouldn’t have spent so much on drinks the other night,” said Melissa in an attempt to keep it light-hearted.
“Melissa, this is serious. I have nothing left in my savings account. I used what I had to pay for next year’s tuition, and now I have nothing for rent. If Bill hadn’t fired me with such short notice, I’d be okay. But now I’m late on rent, and you know that Gino will evict me if I don’t have it up front by the end of the week,” I said with a sigh. “When it rains, it really does pour,” I added.
“Well don’t go jumping off any bridges just yet,” said Melissa. “If I were you, I’d go down to the Steaming Bean and see what kind of job postings are hanging up on the bulletin board. They always have a bunch of stuff posted,” she said. For a second, I felt relieved. Melissa was right. I could come up with something. With that, I hung up with her and got changed. It was getting warmer in Santa Monica as mid-summer hit, so I put on my jean shorts and a tank-top, then headed downtown.
The Steaming Bean was usually packed during the summer with college students, tourists, and locals. Melissa was right. The bulletin board was loaded up with all kinds of ads and flyers. I poked around but didn’t see much in the way of job advertisements. Feeling a little discouraged, I decided that I might as well get a drink before I left, so I got in line and ordered a soy latte with vanilla, one of my favorite drinks.
I sat down by the window and watched people scuttle across the street, or walk their dogs. Then I picked up a few magazines that were lying on the table next to me. One was a kids’ rag, so I put that back, and the other one was a seedy women’s publication, with lots of revealing images inside. I was actually surprised that they had something like this laying around a public coffee shop, but figured it was California, after all, so anything was possible.
I flipped through and couldn’t help but giggle at some of the pictures. There were women tied up with twine sitting on chairs, looking sultry and sensual, wearing fish-net stockings, and high heels. Clearly, this was a magazine for those with particular fetishes. The longer I gazed at the pictures, however, the more intrigued I became with what it all represented. I wondered if the women in the magazine actually liked being hired for this kind of work, or if they just did it for the money. Then I flipped to the back of the magazine, and was surprised to see an ad for BDSM shoots, right here in Santa Monica.
I finished what was left of my drink and then tore out the ad. When I got home, I called up Melissa, and read her the details over the phone. “What do you think?” I asked her with an eager tone. “I think I could do this, easily,” I said.
“Well, you’re no prude, so you’ve got that going for you. But BDSM is pretty hardcore. You think you’d make it in that industry?” she asked. “You know that it’s all just a show, I mean, those women get paid and then they go home. It’s not like…the kind of thing that they really enjoy,” she said, already sounding like she didn’t approve of it totally.
“Well, I don’t care what the other women do, or whether they like it or not. I just know that if I don’t come up with at least eight hundred dollars in the next two weeks, my ass is going to be out on the street,” I said. Melissa told me to give it a try, to at least see if I could handle the work, and then take it from there. And that’s exactly what I did. I called the number in the ad, got scheduled for an interview the next day, and then started work the following week. It was truly nothing like I had expected.
First of all, I had only read a little about BDSM in a few books that I got used online. Even though they went into a lot of detail, they didn’t really explain what it felt like from anyone firsthand. I had been hoping to actually talk with someone who did this for real, and who could tell me what to expect. But all I got from the books was a broad sense of what it was like to give and receive torture, how to set up a kinky scene, and why some people engaged in this kind of lifestyle.
When I stepped into Frankie’s BDSM Room, or “The Groove Room,” as he liked to call it, my whole world changed from that point on. First of all, Frankie was a really gross guy. He was about thirty pounds overweight, and he was always talking to me with a cigarette dangling out of his mouth with ashes hanging off the side. He liked to call all of the females who worked for him his “little flowers,” so when he called me he’d say “Hey, Little Flower Kelly,” or if he wanted to talk to Fiona, it was “Little Flower Fiona.” It got to be really annoying.
On one of the first shoots that Frankie had me do, I was asked to stand in front of an audience and wear my black leather bodice, with a pair of black heels, and a small, lace thong. Frankie asked me if I knew anything about nipple torture, and I told him that I only knew what I’d read about in a few books. He told me I’d figure it out soon, and told me to just watch what Katrina did first. Katrina was one of the women who had been hired just a few weeks before me, and who had an incredible body and a natural flair for the BDSM world.
“So, Kelly, you just have to go from soft torture to hard torture, and don’t try and do too much all at once or you might hurt yourself,” she said with a little laugh. I watched some of the men from the audience came up and stroked Katrina’s nipples. Then he flicked them softly with his fingers. That didn’t seem so unusual to me. But then he started to flick them harder, and Katrina called out. It seemed like she was in pain, but that she was enjoying it at the same time.
Frankie filmed all of it, and I stood back, waiting with a mixture of anxiety and excitement for my turn at the camera. I knew how to handle myself in front of an audience. I know waitressing is far from BDSM photo shooting, but I still think that all of my experience with talking and walking in front of a full restaurant with platters of hot food above my head set me up for success in this new, wild world. I watched as the men continued to flick Katrina’s nipples, and then stood back astounded at what they did next.
One of the men took a metal bar out of a box of ice. It reminded me of a ruler, except it had no numbers on it. H
e slapped it against Katrina’s nipples and she yelled out. Her expression looked seductive, and even though she was tied up to the chair, something in her eyes said that she could devour anyone who got in her path if she wanted to. I watched as the man continued to flick her nipples with the icy cold ruler, and I tried to imagine what it felt like. Then I looked over at Frankie who was smiling and smoking a cigarette the whole time that the camera rolled.
“You’re up next Little Flower Kelly,” he laughed and flicked his ashes all over the sticky concrete floor. I smiled and then sashayed up to the end of the walk. Frankie had a set of black vinyl chairs and a few old couches set up on the stage. Sometimes he liked to mix it up with other odd props, like the wooden treasure chest in the storage closet, or the dirty velvet ottoman that he liked to prop his feet on. He always told us to use whatever got us in the mood.
