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New To Submission

by on Feb.13, 2009, under BDSM

Julie was very horny. Sitting next to her on the plane was a most attractive medical-school senior named Brad who kept stealing glances at her chest. Six times he had brought up the idea of their getting together in Cancun, and he kept trying to get her hotel address. Julie, whose last boyfriend had thighs the size of Brad’s forearms, was having the worst time keeping her accommodations a secret. She just kept reminding herself that she was going to Cancun for something better than sex with a handsome graduate student.

“I’ll be right back. I need to use the ladies’ room,” she said, getting out of her seat.

Brad grinned. “Need a partner for the Mile-High Club?”

Julie paused and looked at him. Brad kept grinning, most likely because he had to look up past her D-cup breasts to make eye contact.

“No, thanks, I’m going to try to join the club solo.”

The shocked look on Brad’s face made Julie giggle. Three steps later, though, she was blushing. What on earth had made her say that to him? She wasn’t even in Cancun yet, and she was feeling like a completely different person. The old Julie, the one who dated nerds like herself, would never have said such a thing to a boyfriend, much less a handsome stranger. The old Julie had had a hard time admitting to her girlfriends that she masturbated, and here she was bragging about it. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that she really was going to the ladies’ room to masturbate.

The bathroom was tiny. She barely had room to turn around, especially with her rather round ass. The toilet seat looked clean, but because she was sharing a toilet with a plane full of other college students on their way to spring break, Julie decided to clean it a few times with the flimsy toilet paper. She debated leaving her pants on while she masturbated, but that felt like cheating. If Julie was going to masturbate in a public restroom, she was going to do it right.

She pulled her pants down to her ankles, along with the bright-red thong that had come in the mail. She sat down and spread her thighs as much as the cramped quarters would allow. Two fingers in her cunt, two fingers on her clit, Julie began stroking.

“Oh, God,” she moaned. She was startled by the volume of her own voice. Her cunt was wetter than any time she could remember. For a moment, she worried that the people in the plane could hear her, but then she relaxed as she realized that the sounds 100 college students hitting on one another would drown out any noise she could make.

Her fingers kept stroking, and Julie purred at the way her body was reacting. This whole trip was such a crazy idea, but she couldn’t deny how much her body loved it. Her nipples were hard, straining against her bra and T-shirt. Inside her shoes, her toes were curling, and when a strand of blond hair fell across her mouth, Julie bit down on the lock just to have something in her mouth. It was as if her entire body had been rewired into a machine designed only for orgasms.

Why shouldn’t her body be this way? She had been craving this trip ever since she’d seen a copy of “The Claiming of Sleeping Beauty,” by Anne Rice, at the bookstore. Julie had timidly bought the book after spending an hour reading it in a corner of the store. In those flowery pages was her first glimpse of the world of submission and dominance. It also had sex, so much dirty, naughty, wonderful sex mingled with pain, denial and cruelty. Julie had spent her life up to that point reading her mother’s romance novels, and she’d always felt as if there were something missing from them. With her first BDSM book, she finally felt as though she had found what her heart, mind and pussy had been craving.

That first book also gave her her first taste of carpal tunnel from masturbating. Now, in the bathroom, her technique was much better. Short, rapid thrusts into her cunt were something she’d picked up from a story online. Stroking her clit was something she’d read about in a Black Lace novel about a dominatrix music teacher.

In the few short years since she’d first read “Beauty,” Julie had learned an immense amount about masturbating and fantasies but damn little about real-life BDSM. As easy as it was to imagine being a willing submissive slut, it seemed almost impossible for Julie to bring it up with her boyfriends. They were all sweet guys who thought rough sex was when you made the girl sleep in the wet spot. Julie could never bring herself to tell these “Buffy the Vampire Slayer” fans that what she really wanted in bed was to be slapped till tears ran down her face. Instead, they licked her cunt while she imagined being held down by unforgiving leather straps.
 
Oh, God, I hope he has leather, Julie thought with a moan. Her fingers worked faster as her mind drifted to the ad that had led her to spend her savings on a trip she could barely afford. This semester, she had decided to skip having a boyfriend and focus on getting spanked before 2007 was over. She haunted kinky dating Web sites, read Usenet groups and bought six BDSM dating books as she worked up the courage to somehow put herself out there on the Internet in the hope of finding a pervert like herself. Julie had not quite been able to bring herself to actually place a personal ad. Unable to admit her interest to boyfriends and friends, she found it twice as hard to put herself out in the Internet where the anonymous world could see.

Then she saw it. A simple advertisement from a dom looking for newbie submissives to share a beach house during spring break. Room and board were provided on one condition   obedience.

It was a reckless ad. Everything Julie had read about safe, sane and consensual screamed that this kind of an offer was wrong. Going to a foreign country to serve a man she had never met? It was crazy. It was ludicrous. That sort of thing turned out well only in erotica, never in real life.

But it was a chance to explore her submissive side with a man she had never met and might never meet again. Julie had responded to the ad, filled out the questionnaire he sent to her and then put on the red thong that came with a small handwritten note: “Masturbate to climax while on the plane.”

And here she was, masturbating in the plane’s restroom on her way to spring break. Her parents, who’d searched her bedroom once a month during high school for drugs and cigarettes, didn’t blink when she told them she was going to Cancun. Her friends, who’d refused to watch “Bound” with her, encouraged her to get laid a dozen times. It was as if spring break were some magical free pass to misbehave; why not use that free pass to do something she really wanted to do?

She kept stroking her cunt as she pictured what she wanted. She wanted to be blindfolded and bent over. She wanted to be spanked till she could take no more and then spanked a whole lot more.  She wanted to whimper like O, moan like Beauty, scream like Mr. Grey’s secretary and climax like Amaya. As her fingers worked her cunt, Julie imagined taking each of their places over and over again.

The climax bloomed inside her. She thought of the dom who had ordered her to do this, and it sent her over the edge. Julie’s body shook, and she jammed her fingers into her cunt as harshly as she could.

“Yes, yes, yes, yes,” she whimpered. Masturbating at someone else’s command so much better than doing it by herself.

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