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My Introduction To BDSM

submissive whore LeahMost people in the lifestyle choose to enter into it.
Safe words are put in place, limits are established, boundaries are respected.
My first taste of the lifestyle wasn’t exactly that, a taste.
It was more like a force feeding…
Shortly after the spanking incident I was walking home from the bar. I stupidly declined my friend’s offer to go with me, so that’s exactly why the men in the black van were able to grab me off of the street.
One minute I’m getting jump tackled and knocked out, then I wake up in a creepy warehouse with the lights off.
I’m tied up, but still in my dress. My panties are missing, but I feel fine. My arms and legs are trussed up like a thanksgiving turkey and I have no hope of moving by myself.
The lights go on, and to my left I see a group of women wearing latex body suits all tied to support beams. Various parts are naked and on display, so vulnerable looking..
A large group of men walk in, carrying an array of whips, paddles, knives, and…. candles?
They walk past me to the bound women, untying each one and throwing them to the floor.
They unzip their pants and piss all over the women, jeering at them and letting them know that this is all they’re good for.
Then they drag the women to a set of metal tables I hadn’t noticed before, shackling them to the tables and cutting open the suits in certain places.
One of them grabbed me and threw me onto a chair, leaving the gag on my mouth but taping my eyelids open.
They start on the women with the riding crops, slowly whipping their tits until their nipples begin to swell and bleed before moving south to their pussy lips.
Surprisingly, the screams aren’t really screams…
They use the thin twine to string up their breasts, pulling until the skin begins to go near blue.
The candles are lit and the wax is used to burn trails of pain down already abused flesh.
So that’s what they were for…
moans and sighs fill the air, confusing the hell out of me, but even I can’t deny how fucking turned on I am by the show.
The knives carve pretty patterns into creamy skin, slicing through latex. Red on black set on a pale canvas, such beautiful artwork.
The men all look at me, apparently it’s my turn….


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