Author's Note: This story is mainly true, probably exaggerated, and definitely amateurish. Feel free to comment on ways for me to improve, I love constructive criticism.


As I sat in front of the mirror looking at my body covered in bruises all I could do was be happy that I was okay. I kept telling myself that I wanted this. I wanted all of it. He was nice a courteous on the street but behind closed doors he was controlling, dominant and aggressive, but I loved it.

At about six feet tall he made me feel tiny. With a nice body and a very large cock I was happy to be fucking him. He made me feel special in a way only a man could. Even when I was tied to the bed lying on my stomach being belted from my back to my ass to my legs I felt wanted. I felt special that he had chosen me to fuck, to punish, and to have. Our first sexual encounter on a couch really started the complicated and toxic relationship that was about to unfold.

Bent over his knee, the threat he'd made was finally coming true, I was being spanked, and hard. I couldn't believe it, this is what I'd wanted, I'd provoked him to do this and I knew what I was doing. We'd been laughing and joking when I referred to him as "Master" and things took a turn for the best/worst. He spanked me until I yelled out what I wanted him to call me: "slave". That's where it all began. On that couch, shorts pulled down, ass out, up and exposed through my skimpy thong. I wanted this to happen, and the wet stain on my panties didn't prove otherwise.

He came over everyday after that. He even stayed until almost 5 a.m. and I didn't let him sleep with me. He was so respectful; we were both so new at this. I wanted him to be my Master and I wanted to be his slave so badly. He made me cum like no other man. He told me when to cum and I came for him every time. My ass was marked red for weeks and looking at the marks made me happy. Not everything was so rough though.

I awoke suddenly and violently from a nightmare I'd just had. My past continued to haunt me and terrify me. But there he was, next to me and suddenly I was in his arms and he was telling me that he was there and that everything was alright. He called me his and held me until I was asleep again. I remember that night like it was yesterday. I'd never felt so cared for in my whole life. It was after that night that things began to get toxic.

He was walking out the door over a stupid fight over a dog. He was really going to leave. I couldn't handle that. I shoved him against the door and kissed him, hard. I told him he couldn't just leave like that. I felt myself being shoved against the fridge and pushed toward the bedroom. He half dragged, half pushed me there. I remember being thrown on the bed and having my shorts shoved down and being held down and spanked. I screamed and cried and tried apologizing. I know I could've said the one word to make him stop but I was terrified that if I did he'd never come near me again.

My bright red ass struggled to get away from him. I was squirming and struggling so much that as he tried to hold me down and get me to stop moving I banged my head on the edge of the bed. Something about this made him stop. It woke him up out of the Master state he was in. He was caring again. He felt terrible and everything stopped. We talked for hours after that. I cried because it terrified me to lose him, and we laughed like friends. Everything with us was such a rollercoaster.

That summer was amazing, he came over as often as he could and I waited for him the way a slave should. I tied myself to the bed, face down, blindfolded and with headphones in. I couldn't see or hear a thing and my ass was open for him. As he walked in I could only imagine what he was thinking seeing me in nothing but a thong and black thigh highs open and ready for whatever he wanted. He always let me know he was there with a swift slap to my ass. (Have I mentioned he loved my ass? Even though I'm not the curviest girl I did have a nice ass. What I didn't have in tits I made up for with my ass.) He would then tighten my bonds to make sure I couldn't escape and then add a gag. Finally he would take out my headphones and ask "What's up slave?" Those three words made me wetter than anyone could imagine. After that he would make some kind of snapping noise with his belt that scared me. Then he would hit me with it, I'd let out a squeal or moan and eventually it would turn into screams. I can handle a lot of pain and he would always give it. He promised that one day he'd make me bleed if he had the chance. I guess you could say he was a bit sadistic, but I was a masochist so it worked.

The last day before he went to college was special. I was bent over the bed, legs tied apart, heels on, thigh highs up lifting my ass, no panties, wrists fastened to the edge, blindfolded, gagged, with headphones in, just waiting for him. This had been my idea though; I wanted him to fuck me from behind and reach around and twist my nipples while he fucked me. I wanted him to spank my ass red until I screamed and begged for him to let me cum. He said no a few times and then finally when he let me cum he slammed into me with one huge thrust. I screamed out as he kept fucking me, unable to hold it in anymore. Finally untied and on my back I did the one thing I could do that I knew he loved. I ran my nails down his chest and abs leaving bright red marks. Marks that would remind him of me. I ran them down his back too, almost drawing blood.

But that was all last summer, and I as I sat looking at the bruising he'd left I wondered if it'd be the same. I knew it wouldn't. He waltzed in thinking we could just hop back into being Master and slave again. I wasn't ready for that. He unbuttoned my pants and slid his hand up to my neck pushing my face towards him. I didn't want to kiss him. I shook my head no, but no wasn't an answer that he took. I felt my pants slide off, I didn't really want this but I was letting it happen. It was then I noticed the windows, I didn't want the neighbors to see or hear this. He picked me up like I was nothing, I opened the bedroom door, and he got right to it, throwing me on the bed, spanking me like always. But I closed my legs, I didn't want this. Did he remember the word we used to make it stop? I did. He didn't. I reminded him and that encouraged him more. Even as he held me down, choking me until I coughed and began to open my legs I didn't say the word. I tried to keep my legs shut, I didn't want him in there but the lack of air made me weak and I was more focused on surviving than being fucked. He took advantage of that. As my legs were pried open I felt defeated and let it happen. He called me his slave and asked if I liked it. He wouldn't stop until I answered him.

"Yes Sir, I like it very much sir."

And as I gazed into the mirror slightly proud of the bruises I realized that was it. That was all he needed to affirm that I was his again, even if I wasn't.