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Disclaimer 1: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, merchandise, companies, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. All characters are 18 years or older when in sexual situations.
Disclaimer 2: Keep in mind that this is just a story. Never attempt to do this in real life as it could lead to very dangerous situations.
It’s been a while that I have been toying with the idea of writing the story of my first time. It would seem an easy task but whenever I would try, the feelings and excitement of it all would overwhelm me so much I couldn’t focus on the actual writing. It really has been on my mind a lot and now, after many months, I believe I’m finally calm enough to do so properly.
Believe it or not, even though looking back at the events now I shudder at the thought of what all could have gone wrong, and how dangerous it all was, I think that if I could go back in time I’d have done it all over again. There’s no doubt that my sexual desires are really messed up in some way, but I was and still am a teenager. And I keep hearing that teenagers are entitled to do stupid things. Why should I be an exception and deprive myself of the things I wanted so much.
Anyway, I ramble. I’ll try to keep the story to the point or else I’ll be the only one reading it… and getting off to it again.
My name is Katiana. I turned 19 just a few weeks ago but still feel just as immature in my decisions as when I was 18 and experiencing the very events in this story. I would say a few words about my appearance but I believe it doesn’t matter that much. I’ve been called “pretty” quite a few times, most often in combination with “shy”. And even though my boobs are barely of any decent size at all, I think I would be called more things if I showed my body a bit more. As it happened, however, I would most often resort to comfortable clothes that hid most of my skin, unless I had an ulterior motive.
Ever since I had first begun exploring my sexual desires (in the safety of my bedroom), I could feel I didn’t want the same things that other girls did. I’ve never been too social but I did have some friends to talk to and whenever we would talk about guys, their words would almost turn me off.
They would talk about how they wanted to be treated like princesses, given flowers at a first date, wanted the guy to hold the door for them and so on. And those are just the non-sexual things. When it came to the action, they wanted candles, a soft bed, kissing and stroking, a nice hard dick and a great orgasm, and honestly, I just wanted to change the subject. As I tried to think about what was so contrasting in their words to my ideas, I realised it was the very fact that they wanted stuff instead of relishing in the thought of… being used.
To me, the stuff that took place in the sex didn’t actually matter as much as the fact that it had to be someone else’s desires while I was, regardless of whether I wanted to or not, completely at their mercy of fulfilling them.
And here goes my messed up sexuality. If this disturbed you, you probably shouldn’t read on.
Anyhow, suffice it to say, it didn’t take me long to realise how submissive I was when it came to anything sexual. I began reading about it, watching it on the internet and soon it was the only thing I could think about. It became an obsession for me.
I can’t recall how many sweaty nights I spent fantasizing about being tied up and used by some guy for his sole pleasure, and then being thrown aside like used goods. I would take my fantasies into realms that bordered on horrendous things, I was imagining filthy pirates fucking the hell out of me and then throwing me into a cold cell next to rats. Every time I would come I would try to get into the helpless feeling of having been fucked senseless and thrown aside all naked and hurt. It made me feel guilty that I was finding pleasure in such horrible scenarios but at the same time, it all felt so damn good. I would keep pleasuring myself to such thoughts until my pussy was so sore I couldn’t even walk.
Nevertheless, eventually, I had to face reality and come out of my obsessive thoughts after all. I felt like real life had to take precedence over sexual fantasies and after a few months of trying to cut down on my filthy hobby, I eventually dared out of my comfort zone and started dating. Like a normal person, I thought.
Just a few months before the events of my first time, I had been dating a guy and while there wasn’t anything special about him, there was no reason why not to take things further. I was ready to go all the way and finally have real sex for the first time. I was doing my best to get excited about it but I just couldn’t get into it. Everyone around me kept telling me how important the first time was and screwing it up could haunt me for years. But at the same time they were saying all those other “prince charming” things that I couldn’t relate to at all, so what did they really know?
Soon the sultanbeyli escort fateful date came around and through flowers and dinner it had progressed to his bedroom. We started making out and he was unbuttoning my shirt but before he could finish it, I just had to pull away. I felt terrible. He was nice and respectful, but it just wasn’t what I wanted so much for such a long time. He got angry when I told him it wasn’t meant to be and I don’t blame him, but I just couldn’t go along with the pretence anymore. I felt like I needed to explore what my body desired and I really wanted that to be how I lose my virginity.
Of course, looking back on the events now, I don’t think this would have been a traumatizing first time at all. If anything, what I actually did could have turned out so much worse than sex with any other guy I knew at the time. But I was stupid. And horny.
After I had arrived home and locked myself in my bedroom, I began my big plan. If I was really going to try to make my first time play out based on how I felt, there was much work to do. And so, like any other stupid teenager, I turned to the internet.
I had lost no time in registering on all kinds of shady websites and forums, which at the time of course seemed very friendly and harmless to me. After lurking for a few days and reading what other people posted, I began taking part in conversations and asking for advice. Strangely enough, I found some people were able to relate to my situation but their advice didn’t really go beyond “hang in there”.
Another few days had passed when I noticed a user who called himself “Mr V” posting “an opening” for an online submissive. According to his profile, he was from the same city as me and even though I didn’t know much about what being an online submissive entailed, I figured there could be no harm in trying, and so I applied. I still have my message saved, so let me just paste it here:
My name is Katiana and I would like to apply for the position of an online submissive for you. I don’t know much about the position and would appreciate it if you could elaborate on what it covers. I believe I’m qualified for it because my primary sexual desire is to be used and have no say in what happens.
Again, I can’t help but look back on it and shudder. I had no idea who I was sending the message to, but here I am, writing this story with a smile on my face. I guess I was lucky.
It didn’t take long for Mr V to reply:
I do not follow any general guidelines so the following will only apply to me. The role of an online submissive is to be tested and if successful, become a real-life submissive for me to use as I see fit. Essentially, all that is required on your part is to follow my orders to the letter and find pleasure and satisfaction in that alone. If you feel like you need more, then you are not meant for this and should look elsewhere. If you accept and at any point disobey, you cease to be my submissive and we never meet/talk again. Based on the last line you wrote, I have reason to believe you could be suitable but I can’t make any promises yet. Actions will tell, not words.
At this point you could fill in the blanks of what happened after I’d read his response. I stroked myself until I almost blacked out orgasming. It’s good that my parents weren’t home.
So it was finally happening. I may have actually found someone who would help me experience my fantasies for real. My first thought was to reply that I was ready to meet and fulfill whatever order he had for me (my mind was going through my usual fantasies again), but then I slapped my horny self and thought better of it. After all, he had been very clear that testing was necessary and I knew that I had to prove myself. And that was actually the part that turned me on even more, my mind was racing with ideas of how he would test me. And how I wanted to be tested, but that was not up to me.
I wanted him to be surprised at how well I could follow his orders. I could not afford to mess this up, I was determined to prove myself and obey to the letter, no matter what.
After I had calmed down, I mustered up my wits and came up with a reply:
“Dear Mr V,
Thank you for your willingness to accept me into testing. I’m ready to begin whenever you wish. I will do exactly as you order.
I wasn’t sure if my reply was submissive enough but there really was not much to say. I had one task only and in that moment, I just knew that I was ready to do anything that would be in his next reply. The thought of it lingered in my head and actually scared me for a bit. I was so determined to do what he would order that I felt like I had no control over it. Even more than fear though, the thought of it produced arousal. As I started touching myself again despite my sore pussy’s protests, another message arrived:
I accept. Your first task is to speak to nobody about our conversation. More orders will follow tomorrow.
I admit, this first tuzla escort order was indeed underwhelming but the night that followed, full of dreams about what the next day would bring, certainly wasn’t.
I woke up the next day but found no messages and so I rushed off to high school as I normally would, wearing one of my usual baggy outfits. Not much happened until 10:12 a.m., when a message from Mr V arrived on my phone.
You have exactly ten minutes to send me a photo of you, fully nude. Note that your whole body must be in the frame. No exceptions.
My heart started racing, I was in a class with twenty or so other students and even if I took a taxi, it would be at least 20 minutes before I’d get home. But I was determined to do as he ordered, he must have known that I would not be able to get the perfect conditions in such a short time. He was testing me, and I was not going to fail. I excused myself and went to the bathroom, much to my teacher’s disapproval. I kept track of the time, 10:14. I lost two minutes getting to the bathroom! There was no room for error now.
To my misfortune, there were two other girls in there, powdering their noses. No doubt were they here to stay. I considered using the cubicle but I only had my phone and I couldn’t fit my entire body into the frame if I tried a selfie.
10:15. Screw them. I darted out of there and raced up the staircase to the bathrooms on the second floor. Thank goodness, nobody was there. It was 10:16 now, I couldn’t lock the main door so I just had to hope for the best. I put the phone on the sink and began undressing, I could actually hear my heart beating as I took off my bra and panties. Seconds later, I was fully naked in the bathroom. I snatched the phone and went for the timer. That’s when the phone decided to freeze.
Stupid apps! I had no time for this, I could hear footsteps outside of the door, I thought I would pass out from the dread but then the footsteps went on, evidently just passing by the bathrooms.
I almost smashed my phone against the sink in frustration but then it finally unfroze and I got to the timer. It was 10:17 now. I started the timer and began positioning it on the sink using my clothes so that most of the room would be in view. That way I could be sure I was in the frame. It kept falling and the first picture was just a blurry mess. I started the timer again. 10:18 now. The phone finally stayed in position, I raced to my spot and tried to present myself as best as I could, spreading my legs a little and trying to look confident but submissive at the same time. The phone took the shot and I breathed a sigh of relief.
I made for the phone and even though it could have turned out better (lighting, posture, focus), I sent it in a quick reply:
“Dear Mr V,
Here is the photo.
It was 10:20 when I sent it. As I made sure my phone wasn’t screwing around again and actually delivered it, I began putting my clothes back on. I made it just before a bunch of girls entered, laughing and being generally loud. Like I said, I kept lucking out quite a bit.
As the day went on and my pulse returned to normal, I was a bit sad that Mr V didn’t reply anymore. I made sure several times that the message had sent and the picture was indeed attached. As I kept looking at it, I actually quite liked it. The way it was rushed resulted in my expression exuding fake confidence with raw fear underneath. I had a feeling he would find it to his liking.
The school day came to an end and I headed straight home and into the privacy of my bedroom again. I was about to start recalling the events of the day with some filthy intentions in mind when a new message finally arrived.
You did well on your first task. What will follow now is going to be far more challenging, however. If you are having doubts after today, I encourage you to rethink your next reply. Otherwise, I expect you to be ready.
Without even thinking for a second I typed in my reply:
“Dear Mr V,
I’m ready to follow your next command, whatever it is.
As I sent it, I felt instant regret at replying so fast. In the excited rush to prove to him how ready I was, I forgot to thank him as I did in the previous messages. I wondered whether he would now think I was too cocky and would want to teach me a lesson. I admit that thought turned me on but at the same time, it was not for me to try to influence what the next task was going to be. I didn’t want to play that part, I only followed orders.
The day went on without any further message from him. I could only hope that he was not disappointed in me for replying so defensively. Maybe he just wanted to give me some time to think over my position, or he was indeed considering making the next task harder. Anyway, it didn’t matter. I was ready for anything.
The next day, shortly after I came back from school, I was sitting at my computer, when a new message arrived. I opened it instantly and its contents made my heart race once again.
In ümraniye escort a deposit box 5741 in Marc Square, there is a package for you. The code is 194. The package contains clothes, the only clothes you will wear for the rest of today. When you pick up the package, you will have ten minutes to change and put whatever you were wearing back into the deposit box.
After that, you will walk to TenCats club in the Southern district and get a drink of your choice. Tell the bartender your name, he will give you a letter with my next message for you. The drink will be on the house.
If at any point anybody makes a pass at you, you are to decline it with the excuse that you cannot accept any offers until you have been thoroughly used by your master.
I reread the message several times, getting more aroused with each round, but I forced myself against spending more time just fantazising and getting off to it. I had an order to follow and I would follow it to the letter. It was time to get ready.
I decided to put on just simple pants and a sweater and ditch all underwear since I would not get to keep it anyway. Pants, sweater, shoes. That’s all I would take. Deep inside I was hoping that there would be something at least half-respectable in that deposit box but the idea of something on the opposite side both terrified me and turned me on. There could be anything in there and I would have to follow the command. It’s even possible that there would be nothing in there. Would I chicken out? I said I would follow every order, I even dared him as to how ready I was, I couldn’t back off.
Before my thoughts could scare me out of my skin, I compelled myself to finish getting ready and finally leave the house and set off. Marc Square wasn’t too far, maybe 15 minutes of casual walking. But I was feeling far from casual. I couldn’t calm down. The thought of what kind of “clothes” could be in that box terrified me. I knew I still had the power within myself to just say no, walk away entirely, forget the whole thing. And that is the part that terrified me the most, I was afraid of myself chickening out. I didn’t want to fail, I couldn’t. I had to brace myself for it. I needed to get myself mentally ready to put on whatever I would find in that box without a second’s hesitation, no matter what it would be. I would only have ten minutes after all.
I got to the hall with the deposit boxes and located the one with number “5741” on it. Before I would open it, I would need to plan where to change. The nearest toilet was good three minutes away, two if I ran. I walked back and forth, made sure there was a cubicle I could use, and tried to calm my nerves. There were quite a few people around and the next time I would walk here, all of their eyes would probably be on me. I wasn’t sure if I was ready for that, but it wasn’t up to me.
I approached the box and got ready. I had my plan. I would grab the contents, run to the bathroom and without a thought put on whatever I would find. The order was that simple. I just needed to not think.
I stood there for what seemed like endless minutes, but it was just seconds. When I felt I had at least a bit of a grip on myself, I checked the time, which was 4:14 p.m., and put in the numbers. 194. The door opened, I grabbed a small package inside, closed the door and ran.
I slammed the cubicle door in the bathroom so hard I might have raised attention before it even started. I began undressing and since I only had a sweater and pants, I was naked in seconds. I opened the package and pulled out what looked like a thin black scarf cut in two short pieces, about two feet each. Underneath there were some of the shortest black shorts I’ve ever seen and a pair of small black canvas shoes. I put on the shorts and zipped them up, then followed with the shoes. Both fit quite well and even though the shorts covered barely anything, I was too preoccupied with the rest of the outfit to care. The scarf pieces were strange and even though I was terrified, I was one hundred percent ready to wear them. Except I didn’t know how. It was 4:19 p.m.. I had two minutes to figure it out, or walk outside topless. The two pieces weren’t long enough to tie around my chest, at least not intuitively. Maybe if I had more time. But I had one minute! Amidst my panic, I luckily noticed something else in the box that I had missed before. A black collar. It had a small metal ring at the front. I could perhaps tie the scarf to it.
I put on the collar as fast as I could and instantly felt it a bit tighter than I would like but I didn’t care. I then tied the end of each scarf piece to the collar ring and led them down to my shorts, just about covering my boobs but of course leaving the rest of my upper body completely nude. I considered just tucking the other ends of the scarf pieces into the shorts when I noticed the same metal ring was attached onto the back of my shorts, where they met my spine. I quickly tied the other ends of the scarf pieces to it. Now each of them led from the front of my neck, across each boob over the side and to the small of my back, where it attached to my shorts. The scarf pieces were only about three inches wide but it was enough to give me hope that I wasn’t completely topless. Not that I was feeling my outfit was respectable in any way, but none of this was up to me. I needed to focus on my role only, and my role was to follow orders to the letter.
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