Hurt Me


Author’s Note:

Mistress Pepper and Sophie are “anonymized” versions of me and my slave-girl. The real me. All of my stories are (or should I say will be) my memories of a session with a sub. Thus, they are true stories. Only in this version details have been changed to protect the sub. I do live in Mobile about 10 months of the year (the remaining two I spend in Nizhny Novgorod, Russia, where my father is from and lives), and almost all of my subs live in Mobile or a bordering county. I’m originally from Baldwin County, next door to Mobile. I moved across the bay to attend USA. As is/did Mistress Pepper. But I’m not a blond. And you’ll most definitely have to guess at my bra size!

And remember, the names and such have been changed in this version to protect the slutty. Only Princess Lilly appears as herself. But she truly has no concept of shame.

Session Date:

08 September, 2020

This Story Released:

26 October, 2020

Hurt Me


In case this is the first of my stories you’ve read, there are a few things I’ve skipped over in this story since there are several other stories I’ve written about this same sub. I tend to write a story after almost all of my sessions with my toys. But I publish very few of them online.

My name is Pepper Rodgers. I’m a 19-year-old Domme, living downtown Mobile, Alabama. I have a decently well-stocked playroom in the second bedroom of my fourth-floor apartment (most of my neighbors are corporate types who aren’t always around, giving me a lot of privacy, even in the halls and elevators). I also have a decently stocked toybox. I prefer my toys to be older than I am, around 30-42 years old. I prefer men for myself, however not for my toybox. When it comes to toys, I find women and couples to be far more amusing. Single men tend to be needier, and often too clingy. But that doesn’t mean I don’t have a few of them in my toybox. I do. They just don’t have the same chances of getting there as couples and single women do.

I’m petite. Actually more “tiny” that petite. I’m 5′ 1.75″ and 91 pounds. I’m not bony, though, I’ve curvy, like a small-sized woman. I have blond hair down to my shoulders and blue eyes. Oh, and my chest is the only place I’m not small. I’m a 32-D, and I’m very pert. Which makes me popular with the boys.

I’m also slightly bisexual. I’m attracted to men, not women. I would never choose a female partner for even a date, let alone for sex. But I’m not opposed to masturbating with a female toy. Sophie happens to be my favorite sex toy to pleasure myself with. Her tongue has two big advantages over my vibrator: one, it’s very delicate and tender. Two, no matter how much I use it, its batteries never die at the worst possible moment! It’s better than fresh bunny batteries, it just keeps going until I want it to stop. And I don’t even have to hold it in place!

When I want sex I never use one of my toys. I never allow a toy touch, or even see, all of me. And I never bring a toy to my bedroom. Nor do I chose a woman. I pick a man, usually one I find in a club or cafe, or wherever. I flirt, dance dirty a little and if he meets my standards, I ask if he’s interested in a one-time-only, no-names-exchanged, hook-up. I’ve never been turned down.

I have a few standards for my hook-ups. I never pick a guy I know or even just see around. And I insist on a cock between 7 and 9″ long and 1.5″ across, plus or minus a small bit. I won’t touch a guy who isn’t circumcised, either. I hate the way the foreskin feels inside me. I want to feel that fat head. The dirty dancing gives me plenty of time to tease a guy hard and feel for myself what he’s got. It’s the only way not to be disappointed. Guys always lie about their equipment!

Sophie is my 19-year-old live-in slave-girl. She’s slightly petite at 5’4″ and 119 pounds. She’s pretty, too, with long honey-blond hair, green eyes, and a 34-B chest. Sophie is extremely devoted to me. So devoted, and so happy as my slave, that despite not being attracted to women, she’s a virgin with men. She serves and pleasures only me, and those I give her to. And while I use her, even with my male toys, I won’t allow any man to touch her pussy or penetrate her bottom. Those are mine. Only mine. I’ve owned her since she graduated high school, but I’ve known her longer. Since about two months after her 18th birthday, which was also about two months before she finished high school.

I have three BFFs, (Isabelle, Reagan, and Ellie) none of whom are into my little games. But all of whom occasionally creep into my stories. After all, they are my BFFs so they tend to be around. Luckily they’re not offended by anything they happen to see. They’re just not eager for me to put on a show on their account.

I also have a circle of five other women friends, all of whom are Dommes as well. Andrea (26), Janelle (35), Colette (39), Diane (43), and Olive (44). we usually get together every couple of weeks for coffee and a little chat about who’s doing what to whom lately. We sometimes share, or loan, our toys to each bebek escort other, but not that often. Sometimes we do a favor for each other, such as providing something different for a toy. Mostly we do what girls do: we gossip.

Chapter 01: The Bitch

Put simply, Christine is a bitch. That’s how everyone around her sees her. She’s short with them. She’s fairly aloof, even snobbish to some extent. She comes across as cold and demanding. She tends to show little sympathy. And she doesn’t put up with anything. It’s her way or no way.

Despite her attitude, she does have a boyfriend. Their relationship is pure vanilla. And I have no doubt that Christine is the boss in their lives. And would be in their home, if their relationship had progressed to the point where they shared a home. I guess he likes it that way. They’ve been together, or at least dating, for about a year now. Then again, after a year together, a lot of couples would be sharing that house.

But what Christine truly craves is to be on her knees. Light-to-moderate pain arouses her. Seriously arouses her. It seems as if the more uncomfortable she is, the hotter she gets. At least to the point of the pain getting too intense, but that’s a line I prefer not to cross either, so who knows how it affects Christine. I won’t do anything that might injure a sub. And I doubt that she wants to go that far either.

Only one thing seems to arouse Christine faster, and further than pain. Humiliation. I don’t mean the “porno clip” kinds of humiliation. I mean true humiliation. The more degrading, the more disgusting, the more repulsive of things she’s made to do, the quicker she gets so aroused she can’t stand it. And if those things are done in an especially embarrassing way, or better yet publicly where strangers can see her shame… It takes handcuffs to stop her from touching herself right there. She gets that hot.

The main impediment to Christine’s satisfaction is her attitude. Her “inner bitch” doesn’t need to come out. It’s already out. And it firmly resists any attempts to demean the proud woman. Or to make her do anything else that a respectable and proud woman shouldn’t do. To me, it’s as if a sub lives deep inside a fairly prim, stuck-up, bossy woman.

It’s my place to knock that bitch out of the way and drag that inner sub out. Christine wants me to, even though she’ll never admit it to anyone. Seriously. If she didn’t, she would keep visiting me, would she? She knows what arouses her. Pretty much every woman knows what excites her. Just as Christine knows she’ll never willingly do any of those things.

Her attitude serves her well at work. She’s a parole officer. It’s a badly paid job I’d never want. But I’m sure I’d be good at it. I can be bossy. And I can so be a bitch! I’m confident those traits serve her well with her parolees. I’ve heard, through my friend Olive who is a court clerk, that Christine has a reputation as the PO that no one wants to get. And thus, they tend to give her the parolees that they want. The ones they want to put back in prison that is. Apparently, that’s how the system works in Alabama. They might have to parole some felon, but that doesn’t mean his new PO can’t ride his butt for a few weeks until she catches him being a bad felon and send him right back. Southern Justice. It’s pretty good if you’re not a criminal. Otherwise… I’d move. Far away. Quickly.

She came to me about six months ago, obliquely through my friend and fellow Domme, Janelle. Janelle is a sheriff’s deputy in the next county. She told me that a friend of hers had a friend who had a friend that wanted to meet someone but wasn’t going to admit it. She asked if I’d talk to Christine’s friend, and she asked nothing more than that. As a favor to Janelle, I met with the woman for coffee.

She told me that she was absolutely certain Christine wanted to play. And just as certain that Christine would never admit it. She’d known Christine for over a decade now, and too many of the little things she’s said over the years add up to only one thing. Then, a couple of months ago, the pair of them had accidentally stumbled on a porn clip while surfing YouTube for videos. It was a clip of a woman being paddled. Harshly. Christine didn’t turn it off very quickly. And when she did, she excused herself and came back a few minutes later, looking as if she’d just cum. Tammy, Christine’s friend, had no doubts about what Christine had gone and done. Couldn’t wait to go do.

Tammy mentioned that her friend had a friend who was into that sort of thing. Christine told her it was disgusting. But since, Christine had taken every opportunity, and invented many more, to ask about Janelle, and what kind of play she might have gotten up to recently. Tammy offered to introduce Christine to Janelle, but Christine steadfastly refused.

Now Tammy has tired of Christine nagging her for little tidbits she’s picked up. She asked, directly, if I’d meet Christine. She didn’t ask if I’d play with her. Just meet her. Maybe, Tammy said, she might mecidiyeköy escort be wrong about her friend.

I agreed, and Tammy brought Christine for coffee. I immediately picked up that Christine hadn’t been told anything. Didn’t expect to meet with anyone but Tammy. I didn’t tell Christine that I’m a Domme. I could sense that if I did, she’d close down quickly. I just chatted with her. And I told her that I knew Janelle as well. I think Christine thought I was the friend between Tammy and Janelle, and I didn’t dispel that idea. Neither did Tammy. It took her about twenty minutes to get around to asking me what Janelle had been up to lately.

I started telling her a story. A true story I’d picked up at my last Domme-gossip-fest with Janelle. In vivid detail. In a couple of minutes, I could see Christine fidgeting in her seat. It wasn’t an uncomfortable kind of fidget. It was more of a grinding her pussy against the chair kind of fidget. She listened closely. She balked at the story, and everything in it, telling us how disgusting it was that someone would let someone else do anything like that. Which she never would. But we both could see Christine eating up the details.

I kept the story vivid. Ten minutes later the moment of truth came. Christine excused herself, saying she had to pee. We were in a coffee shop, so the ladies’ room was really the only place she had to get even some privacy. I just looked her directly in her eyes as she started to rise up. “No. You must think I’m blind and stupid, and I am neither. Do you think I haven’t seen you sitting there rubbing that slutty pussy of yours against the chair? You are not going to run off to the ladies’ room and masturbate. You are going to sit there and behave your slutty self, bitch. I am not asking. You are going to. Or else… there is a very noticeable wet spot in the crotch of those jeans. You do not want to make me punish you here. Now sit and behave, bitch.”

Christine froze, her bottom maybe two inches off her seat. She stared at me for several seconds. Then I saw the faint hint of a blush bloom in her cheeks. A couple of seconds later, she sat back down. Then she glared at Tammy with the coldest glare I’ve ever seen.

Then I pretended nothing had happened and went on with the vivid story. Christine heard every word of it. Despite the angry glare on her face. Too bad she was so busy pretending that she hated it. She didn’t notice me. Under the table, I slipped my phone out and pointed it at Christine. Then I just let it record some video.

I embellished the story, adding some extra details to make it even more “disgusting” for Christine. And I told them very graphically. It went on for about ten minutes. Then I set my phone on the table and replayed the video.

It took Christine about two seconds to turn green. She didn’t have a clue the camera had been pointed at her. I said nothing. It happened three minutes into the video. Christine’s hand went to the crotch of her jeans. Her finger tried rubbing her pussy. Then, maybe two minutes later, (about the time of the juiciest part of my story) Christine’s hand slipped into the waistband of her jeans. All the way to the wrist.

Tammy smirked, but she couldn’t hide the surprise on her face. She hadn’t a clue what Christine had been doing. I did. I could see it on her face. Then again, I’ve seen something I doubt Tammy ever has: a woman masturbating. I know that look.

“Christine. It seems you’ve been very slutty and naughty. And apparently, you have no shame, since we all can see that you’ve been diddling your pussy while you sit here in a coffee shop. Just imagine if all these people weren’t so blind. You’d have been the slut show!

“You will be punished for your skanky sluttiness. You have your choice.” I slid a napkin with my address on it over to Christine. “You may come to my place tonight at seven. If you’re not there at 7:01, I will post this video on my rather popular YouTube channel, along with your name. How does this sound for a title: Slut Caught Masturbating In Coffee Shop. I’m sure that would be awesome clickbait!

“And before you go getting all cop on me, think about the law. I made a recording – in public. Just like those TV news crews do. I didn’t hide a camera in the ladies’ room. I sat here, in a dining room, having coffee and my camera recorded what it recorded. So legal! And since I made it, I have every right to post it. You should really be more careful where you diddle yourself, slut. Face it, I have all the power here. You have none. You may come and maybe convince me to delete my prized video, or not. But if I’m not convinced, it’s posted. You are shamed. I’ll bet the very first parolee you go to hassle will have watched it! If I were him, I’d have it playing on my TV when you came in. And so begins your life, slut.

“Now, go to the ladies’ room and diddle that sloppy thing, slut.”

Christine glared at me, the coldest, angriest glare. After a few seconds, she slowly rose and headed for the ladies’ room. By the time she got there, she was practically florya escort jogging. Tammy and I giggled. We both knew she wasn’t going in there to pee. When Christine returned, both Tammy and I were gone. My message was delivered.

Christine came over that evening. I let her think I deleted the video. By then, at the end of her evening in my apartment, I had much better videos of her. Including one of her sitting naked, clamps on her nipples, beside my desk. And beside the little sign that warns everyone, there are “security cameras” in all areas of my apartment, anything may be recorded, and all videos are my sole property. I doubt she was paying any attention to the sign, but the law says if there is a sign, she read it and accepted it, whether she bothered to read it or not. With the sign in the frame, she won’t be convincing any court it wasn’t there.

And so began Christine’s very reluctant, and even more satisfying, sessions with me. It’s gotten to the point where she’ll willingly come, but once she’s here, she’ll resist me. I expect she always will. She’s the type who wants to be forced to submit. And she couldn’t be forced if she was willing, could she? Besides, I think being forced allows her to live with contradictions between the prim bitch she is, and the fucktoy her pussy is.

Since that first night, I haven’t directly blackmailed Christine to come. But there will always be an unspoken element of blackmail for Christine. I know her secret. I could even prove it. No one else does, not even Tammy. I’ve kept myself “mysterious” enough to keep Christine uncertain. I haven’t told her anything about me. She hasn’t a clue what I might do should she refuse to come. In truth, I’d just exile her and wash my hands of her. I don’t want a sub who doesn’t want to be here. But I don’t care if the sub needs that element of “personal risk” to get past her modesty and show up. And I wouldn’t tell a sub much about myself anyway. It’s none of the sub’s business. I own her, and that’s all she (or he) needs to know.

I never made any threats tonight. Never mentioned any consequences to Christine if she didn’t show. I never do. I actually detest threatening a sub. I prefer not even to mention consequences. I like to tell them what they will do, and nothing more. It leaves them to wonder what punishment they might endure if they displease me before they finally end up submitting and pleasing me anyway. An hour ago I simply sent Christine a text telling her that she was to “present herself” at my apartment at 5:30. Just that, a plain summons with no hint of consequences or what I might wish her for.

In her second session here, Christine asserted a measure of control by appearing five minutes late. Her bottom paid dearly for her tardiness, as did her pussy later. Tonight, as she has been since, Christine is exactly on time. As I’ve told her I expect. A sub does not keep her owner waiting. The sub waits, very patiently, on her owner. It’s the way of things.

“I’m here,” Christine says as Sophie answers the door.

Most vanillas think that the Domme controls the scene. But that’s not exactly true. The sub has a great deal of the power to steer a session however she wants. Just a Christine just did. She knows full well that I won’t tolerate her speaking, let alone speaking to my valued slave, like that. And she knows just as well that she will be harshly punished for it. Yet she did it anyway. It’s her way of saying “OK, I’m here. We both know I want pain. I want you to force me to submit. Get on with it.”

I give her what she wants. I don’t tolerate her rudeness. I rise up and quickly walk over to the door that Sophie, my 19-year-old live-in slave-girl is holding open. Christine is just about to step through the door.

I slap her face, hard. Before she comes in. While she’s still standing in the hall of my building. The public hall. Christine doesn’t know that the tenants on this floor aren’t likely to be in the hall. As far as she knows, anyone might have seen that slap. And it was a good slap. It leaves a bright pink handprint on her cheek. It knocks her head to the side slightly.

Christine doesn’t cry out. I’ve come to think she’s used to being slapped, and maybe punched. I think it’s an occupational hazard. I’m sure POs get hit in the line of duty. They do on TV, anyway.

I don’t give her time to do much of anything. I grab hold of the waistband of her jeans and yank hard, pulling her into the apartment. She starts to stumble once but quickly gets her footing and steps in. Sophie knows enough to shut the door behind her.

“You nasty rude bitch!” I scold Christine sternly. Then I slap her face again, searing a matching handprint on her other cheek. “You are so going to be sorry for disrespecting my slave, bitch.”

Christine has straight, dark blond hair that hangs close to her head with almost no puff or body to it. I grab hold of those fine locks and yank. Hard. It pulls her forward and down at the same time. And it makes her stumble as she yelps out “OW!” As Christine stumbles, I yank again, even hard, to the side. It makes her try to turn her shoulders to save her from having her hair pulled out. Twisting like that makes her unsteady on her feet. And that’s all I need. Another sharp jerk downward and slightly back is all it takes for Christine to drop to her knees.

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