Mary was 26 and fairly attractive. She had always been popular with the boys, but her shyness had made it difficult for her to deal with their attentions. And she had a Deep Dark Secret, something she had told none of her boyfriends or girlfriends. And the mere existence of that Secret had made it almost impossible for her to feel close to anyone she had met, no matter how nice they had been.

Her Secret was that, for as long as she could remember, her sexual fantasies had involved being dominated by an older man. In her mind, this person was her Daddy, although he never looked like or acted like her real father. Assertive, almost cold, very strict, and controlling, he would take her in hand and use her in ways which made her blush. She could never bring herself to share these thoughts and feelings with any of her friends. And she was never satisfied by the standard sexual attentions of her peers.

So, when she had heard about this party via the Internet, she had forced herself to come. She wanted to find out if she could meet someone with whom she could share her most intimate thoughts and feelings. She thought she was going to explode: she just had to find this person. She was tired of living life alone.

The days leading up to the party had been difficult. She was drawn to the possibilities and at the same time scared silly about whom she was going to meet and what she might do (or not do). Was she really going to allow a stranger to spank her? To have sex with her? She was so confused. And she'd never been spanked, even as a child.

The party was nice enough. The people were disappointingly normal, for the most part, except that they all shared an interest in Domination and submission (D/s). Some people acted out "Scenes", with girls (and men!) being tied up and/or spanked, but she was too shy to participate. She was almost too shy to even speak to people. She wondered if she would just wind up leaving having never spoken to anyone. She watched from the sidelines, only partly there.

A number of men had tried to chat her up. One in particular seemed very interested in her, but she found him to be repulsive. Something about the way he leered at her, and the way his hair was so greasy. She made excuses and walked away. She had noticed one somewhat older man throughout the evening, a man with silver hair, but he always seemed to be talking with other people. And when he had looked her right in the face, she had just blushed and looked away. She wanted to leave: things just never turned out the way she wanted.

She had dressed carefully for the party, as if she were going to actually meet her Daddy. She certainly had not wanted things to fail because of something so simple as dress. She looked sensual and yet not trampy. A thin sports bra covered her ample but not excessive breasts, over which she wore a soft, tight, thin lavender T-shirt. She wore a flowered silk skirt, to mid-thigh, and black shoes with a slight heel. She wore thin cotton panties, just like a Daddy would want his little girl to wear. She was ready, but nothing seemed to be happening.

A sudden commotion occurred across the large room, and she (and everyone else) turned to see what was going on. In the middle of a small circle of people, the silver haired man had grabbed a woman by the hair of her head. She wore just a shirt, panties, and shoes. He pulled her head up and back, and her hands flew up to take the pressure off of her hair. He then grabbed her crotch with his other hand and she started to squeal. He said something to her, but Mary could not make out most of it. Something about "boot". The girl nodded her head rapidly and, tears streaming from her eyes, she knelt down and began to lick his shoes. He never took either of his hands from her hair or her crotch the whole time. The entire event only took perhaps 15 seconds.

Mary was stunned. Her heart beat wildly in her throat, her knees felt weak, and she suddenly felt as if she had to sit down. The suddenness of it, the violence of it, the forced submission. She wished she were the girl kneeling at his feet, but she knew she would never be able to admit it.

---

Peter had come to the party almost as a last resort. His attempts at meeting submissive women had been frustrating at best, and he figured the party was the only place where he had a chance of at least speaking with some of them. But, he knew never to expect too much, so he had arrived with an enforced sense of detachment. What would be would be: being pushy never helped (a strange feeling for a Dom, he noted ironically).

At first he had just stood around, watching. He had no idea what the "rules" of behavior were here. Should he be aggressive? Should he be polite? Would politeness be misinterpreted as lack of dominance? Some girls wanted to be tied up and "punished" by the crowd, but what were the limits? He watched and listened, trying to figure it all out.

The woman who ran the parties had spoken to him a few times, and while he liked her looks, he felt awkward around her. Should he be assertive or not? He could feel her eyes on him: he was sure that she was wondering whether he really was a Dom or not. He was not acting like one, after all. She seemed to enjoy being tied up, and had been bound more than once by different guys and groups of guys. She was wandering around the party now clad only in a T-shirt and panties, looking for more action.

She approached him, drink in hand, and started her teasing, bratty banter again. It was fun, but he didn't know his part. Suddenly she said it right out, in his face. "You don't seem very dominant to me, Peter", she sassed.

He felt his heart begin to beat fast. This was an overt challenge. Surely he could respond in some way. He heard himself saying "If I wanted to, I could have you licking my feet in fifteen seconds."

Her eyes brightened, and she grinned. "No way, Peter, no way!" she teased.

Peter took a deep breath and decided to go for it. Putting his drink down, he suddenly grabbed a fist full of her hair with his left hand. He pulled her head up and back, and her hands flew up to try to take the strain off of her hair. She squeaked with pain as her hair was pulled.

As soon as her hands were up high, he reached for her panty-clad crotch, grabbing a fist full of panties and cunt lips. Squeezing as hard as he could, pinching her lips between all of his fingers, he reached for her clit with his thumb and first finger. Finding it, he pinched it hard. She screamed and tears streamed from her eyes. Her hands raced to protect her crotch, but it was too late: he was in control. He felt her body go limp with the pain, all resistance gone. He said "Are you ready to lick my boots now?", and she nodded vigorously.

He slowly lowered her to the ground using both hands to control her, never letting up the pressure on her hair or cunt. He pushed her head to the ground and she kissed his shoe timidly. "Lick it, bitch!" he ordered, pinching her clit harder, and the tongue came out, licking. He kept her at it for a full minute before he let her up.

When he looked up, a crowd had grown around them, and people were showing their appreciation of the event. A few whistles and claps ensued, which only made him blush. After letting her up, he reached out for the woman, to make sure that she was OK. She brushed a few tears from her eyes and rubbed her crotch with a wry grin. He offered her a hug, which she accepted and returned warmly. She kissed him on the cheek and murmured "I'm sorry I doubted you" and walked off to speak with her friends, looking over her shoulder at him.

Peter was trembling with tension and excitement. It had been fun, but a bit too sudden and extreme for him. His mouth was dry, and he needed a drink. He looked up to make his way to the drinks and noticed a girl he had seen before. She was staring at him, and her fingers were rubbing her cunt through her thin dress. She was obviously excited by the scene. But when he looked at her, she blushed furiously and turned away. He followed her.

---

Mary watched the scene with total focused attention. It was only after it was over, and the girl was hugging the silver haired man, that she realized that she was playing with herself. Here, in public, rubbing her clit with excitement. As she pulled her hand away in embarrassment and humiliation, she realized that he had seen her. She turned away, excited, confused, and feeling very awkward.

At the drink table, he came up behind her and put his hand on her shoulder, in a friendly way. She startled, and then relaxed a bit. She looked up at him, and felt herself melt. She was sure her panties were dripping wet.

"Perhaps we should sit down and talk for a moment" he invited, but she shook her head nervously no, her eyes darting to the floor, and then away, across the room. Guiding her gently by the shoulder, he led her to some chairs in a corner, and sat her down. He sat down next to her and took her hand. Suddenly, she felt a bit more calm.

They talked for a while. He asked about her background, her experiences, and her thoughts and feelings. For the first time in her life, some of them actually came out. She explained her need for punishment, domination, humiliation, and sexual use. He explained that, while he had "played" with many women, he had not found a woman with whom he could share both his D/s feelings and his life. She felt herself drawn to him on many levels, but it was all happening too fast. She couldn't trust any particular thought or feeling.

Then he said "Perhaps you would like to participate tonight, instead of just watching". She looked at him, and part of her wanted to scream out "Yes, yes yes!", but the rest of her remained mute.

"Perhaps you would like to offer yourself to me as my slave for the evening, to do with as I wish." She gulped. A slave? She had always thought of herself as Daddy's little girl, being spanked and used sexually, dominated. But a slave? And in public? She wanted to explain that this just was not like her, but instead she found herself whispering "Yes" to him.

He took both of her hands and held them, staring her directly in the eyes. "Are you sure about this?" he asked, and she paused. Slowly she nodded, staring into his eyes. Somehow she trusted him. Only time would tell whether this trust was well placed.

He stood her up and led her to the corner of the room. He placed her facing the corner, like a naughty girl waiting for a spanking. He told her to stay there until he returned, and walked off. She stood there, listening to the noises of the party, trembling, wondering who might be watching her, and wondering what they were thinking.

When he returned he had a small collection of "toys". He took her wrists and drew them up high behind her back. She was quite limber, and her arms could move there without discomfort. He tied her wrists together there. Taking another rope, he tied it to her wrists and then drew it up over her right shoulder, across her chest down under her left arm, across her back, under her right arm, and back across her chest and over her left shoulder to her wrists. When tied in place, her arms were held up high. She was helpless.

He added a leather collar to her neck, and fastened a leash to it. By this time, a few people had gathered to watch, and she was feeling very ashamed. Ashamed and excited. When he reached up to blindfold her, it was almost a relief: maybe those people would "go away" if she could not see them. He kissed her gently on the lips; she shuddered. He pushed a ball gag into her mouth, and tightened it until it pressed against the back of her throat. She retched slightly. Blinded, bound, gagged, and helpless, she stood there ready for his next command. Her cunt was throbbing, and she knew she made quite a sight, even though fully clothed.

He put his arms around her and whispered in her ear. He explained that for the next hour or two he would be giving her orders, and that he would not accept anything short of immediate and total obedience. He explained that he would punish her mercilessly until she obeyed, so she would be best off if she simply obeyed. He asked her if she understood, and she nodded, resting her head against his chest.

He further explained that, although she would suffer quite a few indignities in the next few hours, that he would be careful that she came to no real harm. She relaxed, her body melting against his. He reached down and caressed her backside, softly, gently.

Standing away from her, he said "Get moving, bitch!", and pulled on her leash. She moved tentatively forward, unable to see where she was going, but after a few minutes she began to understand how he used the leash to guide her, and she was able to walk faster, always carefully in the direction he was pulling.

He took her on a grand tour of the room, walking her around, until everyone knew she was his. This done, he put his right hand on the small of her back and began to play with her tits, through the bra and T-shirt, with his left. She blushed but held still for him.

Then, with his left hand on her belly, he felt up her ass, at first through the skirt, but eventually running his hand underneath, caressing her backside through her thin panties. He ran his finger up the crack of her ass, locating her asshole, and prodding it gently, so that she would know that she had given up that secret place to him. She stepped forward one small step, trying to deny that her anus belonged to him, but he held her in place with his left hand while insisting with his finger. She blushed again, squirming.

With his right hand on the small of her back again, he reached under her skirt for her panty crotch. When she did not open her legs for him, he spanked the front of her crotch, saying "Open up, bitch!". She obeyed. He slowly massaged her fat, swollen cunt lips, through sodden panties. She could hear the squishing sound her cunt made as he manipulated it, and she was mortified. It was clear that he now knew how much she loved what was happening. Any attempt to pretend was useless.

A voice from the crowd called out "Is she wet?", and suddenly she realized that people were watching this entire procedure. She had been felt up in front of a crowd of strangers. Her heart was pounding. She wished she could lay her head on his shoulder, but that was not to be.

"It's just about running down her leg!" her Daddy responded. He slipped a finger in between her panties and her cunt, and ran it quickly from cunt hole to clit. It slipped and slithered along her slit. It felt wonderful. She couldn't recall being this wet before.

His left hand came out from under her skirt, and his right hand grabbed a fist full of her hair. Suddenly, wet, slippery, musky fingers were inserted in her nostrils, reamed around, and then withdrawn. She had not been expecting this, and her female smell came as a shock to her. Somewhat disgusted, and extremely humiliated, she whined into the gag, and pulled her head to one side.

She heard him say "I do not want you pulling away from me, bitch. We'll just have to do this again, until you understand." And with that, he put his left hand up under her skirt again, searching for more of her juices.

She resisted at first, closing her legs tightly, and squirming, but he gave her a few harsh slaps to her cunt. When that didn't work, he slapped her tits, hard, first one, and then the other. She had never been hit there before, and it was very insulting and painful. A few more harsh spanks to her tits, and her legs were open, as she gasped and squealed into the gag. His fingers lingered in her slit for a moment, and then again were inserted into her nostrils. This time, she just held still. Her resistance was gone.

Another voice from the crowd called out "How do her tits feel?", and her Daddy responded with "Why not find out for yourself?". He stood behind her, grabbing her by both upper arms, and marched her towards the voice. Rough hands fondled her breasts, squeezing them, tossing them about, pinching the nipples, and finally slapping them. She could tell from the way the crowd reacted that this was quite popular. She was marched around, from person to person, as a number of people played with her tits. At one point, she heard a woman exclaim "My god, they're so soft!", and she realized that not only men had been fondling her.

Her Daddy then said "Well, if we're going to play with them, we may as well see them!". He pulled her tight T-shirt up over her breasts, and then up over her head, pulling it hard enough that it remained covering her face, tucked behind her head. Her bra-covered tits stood out now, for everyone to see. A few hands reached out and played with them.

Then her Daddy's hand reached around, from behind her, grabbed the bra between her tits, and yanked it up. Her tits danced out for everyone to admire. At size C, they were large enough to be interesting, without being sloppy. They were soft, and sagged slightly. The areola were small, the nipples large and very hard.

She was slowly moved through the crowd again, and this time it seemed as if everyone was interested in having a feel. People were rougher than the first time, and when one person slapped her tit hard, from the side, making it wobble all over her chest, she wondered where it would stop. When her Daddy made no comment to stop this behavior, it became the rule, rather than the exception. The next fifteen minutes were spent getting her tits slapped hard, up, down, left, and right. Her nipples were not spared: it seemed that everyone wanted to grab the nipples and try to lift them to the ceiling. She squealed and groaned through the gag, standing on tiptoes and arching her back, and was sobbing a bit when it was over.

Her Daddy then put his left arm around her belly and drew her back to him. He caressed her hot, throbbing breasts with his left hand, while he slowly massaged her clit with his right hand, through her panties. The crowd made approving noises, and she turned her head to the side, in shame. Still, her hips moved urgently against his fingers, and she moaned with pleasure. She was ready to come, when he pulled away and announced to the crowd "What we have here is a masochistic, exhibitionistic little slut, don't we?". The crowd laughed and roared approval, as she blushed. He was right, but that didn't mean that she liked it. She was learning about herself, but would she turn out to be the person she wanted to be?

Suddenly, the front of her thighs felt cool, and she realized that her Daddy was tucking her skirt up into her belt. The crowd could now see her thin cotton panties, soaked with her lust juices. She had shaved her cunt, thinking that her Daddy would like that, if she ever met him, and as he massaged her cunt through the panties, she was sure that everyone could see the exact shape of her lips. He reached down in between her legs, and when she resisted, spanked her cunt harshly. She opened her legs, and allowed him to massage her cunt in front of the crowd. She could feel his hot breath on her ear.

He then turned her around and pulled her skirt up, revealing her panty covered ass to the crowd. Some more careful massage, and her panties clung to her cheeks like a second skin. She would be keeping no secrets from anyone tonight. He ran a finger up and down the crack of her ass, locating her asshole once again. As the pressure started, she lurched forward, but he was in front of her, holding her, and there was nowhere to go. Squealing her protest, standing on tip toes to evade the intruder, waving her ass back and forth and clenching her cheeks, he ignored her and slowly pushed his finger until he had stuffed some of her panties about one quarter of an inch into her asshole. The crowd laughed and clapped, yelling things like "Way to go!" and "That's showing her!". Where would it all end?

He marched her around the crowd again, only this time it was her cunt and ass which were offered for their amusement. She found it difficult to open her legs for strangers, but whenever she resisted their advances, he smacked her ass, hard, until she obeyed. Many people commented on how wet she was, and on how thick and soft her lips were. The detailed and intimate comments embarrassed her further.

When asked, he would turn her around and bend her over, offering her ass for inspection. He grabbed her around the shoulders with his left arm, and held her cunt with his right hand, bending her and holding her in place. Her ass cheeks were explored thoroughly, and more than one person prodded at her anus, insistently. When she grunted and squirmed in protest, she was held more firmly, until the prodder had achieved his goals.

At one point, thick and stubby fingers played with her roughly, pinching and pulling on her cunt lips until she squealed. The abuser's only reaction was a

laugh, followed by the comment "She's one hot bitch, isn't she?". It took a moment for her to realize that the man she had found disgusting, earlier in the evening, had just finished fondling her cunt. He further commented "Her cunt sure smells good!", and she realized he had just finished sniffing his fingers, fingers which were covered with her juices.

She found herself standing facing her Daddy, his arms around her, holding her close to him. He fondled her ass cheeks, and explained to her, in a whisper, that the time had come for her to feel some pain. He promised her that she would not be damaged, but also promised that she would be crying real tears shortly. He asked her if she understood. Trembling, she nodded.

He led her to a chair and sat down. She was forced to kneel before him, with her back to him, her legs in front of the chair. Ordered to spread her legs, she did so. He then pulled her back, towards him, and she discovered that her legs were outside of the chair legs. He put his ankles in front of her knees, forcing her back against the chair seat and legs, trapping her thighs against the chair legs. He ran one arm behind her upper back, and in front of her upper arms, and held her head back from under her chin with the other hand. Her tits were sticking out for all to see.

"Would anyone like to take a belt and strap her tits?" he asked the crowd. There were loud murmurs, along with cries of "I would" and "Me!". Her Daddy made a selection. Mercifully, it was a short, slender girl. She was given a belt and, standing directly in front of Mary, she began to swat at Mary's tits, hitting from the outside in, making Mary's tits dance all over her chest. It hurt a lot, but she was held firmly, and could not move very far, despite her twitches and groans. After a while, the strokes started coming from below, smacking the tits up towards Mary's face. The crowd offered suggestions, and the strapper moved around, trying to punish the tits thoroughly. They throbbed and stung, and became very red. When her Daddy thought that Mary had had enough, he called for a halt. Mary was crying and sobbing, her chest heaving and tits dancing. Her tits were bright pink, covered with belt marks, with some darker red bruises in places. The nipples were rock hard.

"Does anyone have a hairbrush?" her Daddy asked, and she was abruptly turned over onto his lap. Her head hung down towards the floor, her hips were across his left thigh, and her legs dangled towards the floor. He pushed at her knees until her legs were bent in towards the chair. He wrapped one of his legs behind each of hers, so that she could not kick at all. He leaned against the small of her back, and she felt as if she was all ass. Her panties, thin as they were, would offer her no protection against a hairbrush.

He gave her backside a few experimental swats with the brush. The strokes stung, but certainly were bearable. She was aware of her soft cheeks shuddering, swaying, and dancing at each stroke. It was embarrassing to think of the spectacle she was making. Her knees were spread wide, and everyone could see her panty-clad crotch. She was sure her lips were visible through the thin material.

Her Daddy grabbed the waistband of her panties in his right hand and suddenly yanked it up towards her head, jamming the panty cloth into the crack of her ass, baring her cheeks. Transferring the waistband to his left hand, and maintaining tension, he yawned the cheeks of her ass with his right hand, stuffing the thin cloth in there, away from the cheeks which he intended to abuse. Satisfied with his work, he pushed her shoulders down towards the floor with his left elbow, and spanked her now naked cheeks with the brush.

This stroke was different. This was no experiment. This stroke was hell. He hit her as hard as he could, and her first impression was simply the force of the blow. It drove her hard into his lap. She felt it throughout her body.

Her second impression was that she had never understood just how painful a hairbrush spanking could be. The sting was unbelievable. All she wanted to do was get her hands down there to rub away the pain. She arched her back,

trying to buck off of his lap, but that only amused the crowd; he handled her with ease. Her hands stayed where they were, in the middle of her back, and she received the second thundering stroke without being able to offer any resistance.

She started crying almost immediately. The pain was intense, and her submission was total. He spanked her backside with frequent, solid hits, often enough that she was never able to recover her composure again. She sobbed and groaned and squealed and cried, but to no avail. She no longer cared how she looked: all she cared about was the pain. She writhed and bucked, kicked and wriggled, squealed and whined, and the crowd loved it. Her backside danced lewdly, yawning and shuddering, clenching and humping.

Everyone could see that she danced a sincere dance of pain, an intimate dance which came from her heart, a dance in which nothing was held back. Her Daddy played her backside like it was an instrument, finding her most tender spots, and hitting them repeatedly. He focused on bruising her undercheeks, so that she would feel it every time she sat down, for days, but found time to keep the rest of her ass stinging and throbbing. He spanked her until she was sure that she could take not one more stroke. And then he spanked her some more.

Finally, noticing that she had begun to tire, he stopped spanking her. She lay there, snorting and snuffling, her cheeks bruised and slack. "Now there is a nicely spanked ass!" he exclaimed, and asked if anyone wanted to feel its heat. Numerous hands passed over her hot cheeks, squeezing them, fondling them, and often spanking them. She grunted and squealed and squirmed as her tender flesh was handled roughly.

Her Daddy asked for help from the crowd, and eager hands lifted her from his lap. Hands supported her shoulders and upper arms. She stood up, but only with their help. She wept constantly. Her knees were weak, and her ass felt as if it was on fire. It throbbed and stung, and felt very swollen and thick. Surely this was it. Surely it was over now.

Under instructions from her Daddy, strong hands held her shoulders up, while other hands grabbed her thighs just above the knee, and spread her legs until her knees were about eighteen inches apart. Held in the air, she was on total display. Her well spanked ass glowed behind her, her crotch was easily visible from the front, and her still-rosy tits bobbed for all to see.

Without warning, she heard a soft whistling sound, and then felt something smack hard onto her spread cunt lips. She arched her back and bucked and squealed into the gag, but she was held fast. He whipped her panty-clad cunt over and over again with a set of leather lashes. She quickly discovered that it was the tips of the lashes which did the most painful work, and he moved the tips around expertly, from back near her asshole right up front to the clit. She kicked and writhed for a while, crying her heart out, but when she became too tired to resist, he stopped.

He came over and held her in his arms, telling her that she had been wonderful. The crowd murmured its admiration, and putting an arm around her shoulders, he led her limping off to a side room. He gently untied her arms, lowering them slowly so as to avoid cramps, and then massaging her wrists, forearms, upper arms, and shoulders. He removed the blindfold, pressing tissues against her tear-swollen eyes. He removed the gag, and kissed her deeply, his tongue caressing her slowly and tenderly.

He sat her down on a cot. She started and cried out as her cheeks touched the surface. She started to stand up again, but then looked at him. He stared straight into her eyes, and she meekly sat down, grimacing as her ass stung anew. He gently lowered her down, onto her back, and, reaching down, caressed her clit gently and slowly.

It only took about 30 seconds for her to come for the first time, and when it came, it was a huge, shuddering, heaving, squealing come, which left her crying hysterically afterwards. He held her tightly and continued to caress her, and she came again, twice, in perhaps 3 minutes, each time writhing and bucking with abandon. As she lay there, exhausted, he held her in his arms, and she drifted off to sleep, oblivious to her surroundings, feeling warm, and as if she had finally come home.