Help Yourself with Me Ch. 01 – BDSM

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I’ll finally meet him today. And I am all prepared.

This creepy blackmailer who calls himself “Master Red” has been demanding my attention for weeks. He is some kind of a tech geek who knows his way around a computer. He first acquired some of my revealing private photos and videos by hacking into my Instagram profile, and then used them to produce a highly convincing deep fake clip, showing me and two other women serving an old man like a harem of concubines. The man in the video, at least twice my age, sits on a sofa with a silk bathrobe while the three women, all naked save for a black leather choker on each of their necks, work on different spots of his penis with their attentive tongues.

Of course, if I dig hard enough, I can probably discover the original porn Red sourced from and prove his video of mine is fake. But what’s the point? If that video is published, trying to clear my name will only invite more people to watch it.

I pretended to ignore his threats for two weeks, but today he finally texted me an ultimatum: “Ready or not, I will claim my ransom tonight. You must open the door when I knock.” He had already found my address.

“How do you know there won’t be police waiting for you here.”

“If you weren’t at least a little aroused by that video, you’d have blocked me by now.”

“Maybe I’m waiting for the right moment to entrap you.”

“You’re certainly not. I do my homework. You are not the strategic type.”

More than the video itself, his ability to read me like an FBI profiler gives me the chills, like he was already inside me and any struggling would only exacerbate the friction.

Not knowing exactly what time he will be here, I already paced my studio apartment for at least an hour, unable to do anything useful except for wiping the table and the counter one more time. The room is so neat right now it almost looks like the dorm of a nun. I have no idea why I felt like tidying up for such an unholy occasion.

I have no money, at least not the amount a skilled tech person would discover attractive, so what he wants from the blackmail is plain obvious. That harem video was not just a kompromat, but also an indication of what he wanted to turn me into. But it’s still suspenseful why he chose me and exactly what terms he will lay out for my “payment”. He must be grinning right now for whatever rough maneuver he plans to incur on my unsubstantial 5′ 3″ body.

Although I am the victim in this game, I refuse to be a passive player. I know what I need to do to maintain some degree of autonomy even in the face of my inevitable surrender.

At about 9 PM, I hear a series of unfamiliar footsteps in the hallway, followed by a brief pause and three knocks on the door. Then three more knocks when I hesitate to respond. I walk quietly to the door and look through the peephole.

The man on the other side has unremarkable facial features, which you can easily assign to a Tom, a John, a Gary, or a James. What makes him extra unpleasant is his complete lack of expressions. I won’t be surprised if he turns out to be one of those liquid metal terminators. But more likely, he is just acting emotionless as a tactic of intimidation.

“Are you Red?”

“Yes.”

I open the door while hiding behind it so he won’t see me until he walks inside. When I close the door and stand in front of him, my right hand still on the doorknob, his robotic face shows a trace of startle. His mouth and eyes open wider and his body freezes for a split second.

Apparently, he did not expect me to be naked, let alone wearing a similar choker as in that fake video.

But he knows better than to lose his cool. He quickly withdraws any discernible expressions and says to me in a low, dispassionate voice, “I like your attire. Do you all the time receive your guests like this?”

I try to sound robotic too, but can’t completely suppress the shaking. “I’m not in the illusion that you would let me keep anything on.”

“You don’t even bother with some symbolic resistance?”

“No. It would only give you the satisfaction of overpowering me.”

“So, you took everything off and put on a cute dog collar, just to rob me of the fun of undressing you? No. I don’t believe you hate me that much.”

“Of course I hate you.”

“Then why did you also shave yourself as smooth as a doll?” he says while looking at my cleanly shaved pubic area. “Did you want to rob me of the pleasure of being a damn barber?” He pauses and smells the air. “And what’s that scent? Did you think I’d spray perfume all over you by force so you had to preempt that too?”

I don’t have an answer to those questions. I just lower my eyes in silence and let him win the debate. He would be even more vindictive if he knew I had also applied a special lotion to make my skin more sensitive. But that’s my little secret. He will find my body trembling at even the slightest touch, but he will never know why.

“Presenting yourself like this, aren’t you afraid I’ll take more pictures?”

“Won’t be worse than what you sent me.”

“We’ll see about that.” I thought he would use a phone, but he takes out a Canon digital camera with a sizable lens from his backpack. He came prepared. I bet he wants to capture every goosebump on my areolas. That thought makes me subconsciously stretch my shoulders backward so my breasts become more emphasized. I can feel the blood pressure around my nipples building up and see the already erect pinkish dots becoming visibly larger and rounder.

He seems intrigued and moves his lens even closer, probably leaving only my breasts in the frame. “Thanks for putting in the effort,” he says. “I like your choice of nipple makeup.”

I chose a subtle color and applied only a thin layer, in the hope that it would look like my natural pigment, but it didn’t fool his trained eyes. Overwhelmed by shame, I try to attack back. “You must think you are funny.”

“Still defiant? You see, you took every measure to make yourself a perfect toy for me, but then you talk like you hate my guts. Why?”

“Maybe I want to preserve some dignity.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that. You will have plenty of dignity from being a good submissive. A cleric would not feel ashamed kneeling to his god, right? In fact, he takes pride in it. That’s what I want for you, little thing.”

“I’m not religious. I don’t know how to worship someone with pride.”

“The learning process can be painful, but you’ll get there,” he says like a convincing teacher with great patience.

Well, if I have to get used to kneeling, I might as well start now. “Okay, I’ll try,” I say to him while dropping slowly onto my knees. I feel a gush of blood into my head, and my lotioned skin is covered with sweet warmth. I don’t understand how anyone would find dignity in this posture. Nor do I care.

Maybe, just maybe, I lied about wanting to preserve dignity. Maybe I only acted like wanting it so he could humiliate me further by denying it. Maybe I was picking a fight that I knew I’d lose. Maybe I was playing hard-to-get just for him to prove how easy it was to bring me to my knees.

Seizing on my new posture, he raises his camera again. “Do you mind putting your arms behind you?”

I don’t mind at all. I cross my arms behind me, each hand holding on to the elbow on the opposite side to give myself the least possible mobility.

After taking a few pictures of my front, he walks around me to take close-ups of my arms in the back. “You have a gorgeous way to tie yourself up without a rope,” he says approvingly while shooting from different angles.

“But on second wondered, your arms will get tired holding on like that. Hmm, maybe a rope will help you relax.”

“If it’s not too much trouble.”

“Not at all. I want you to feel comfortable while I have my way with you.”

From his backpack, he whips out a thick, clean, and extra white rope that seems to be only suitable for the human body. For the first time, he puts his hands on me, but only to hold my arms still. He threads the rope around my two parallel forearms to bind them tightly together and ties each end of the rope around each of my elbows. I can tell he’s experienced because the rope keeps my arms completely still without hurting them.

I want to make some comments about the rope but end up saying only two words, “thank you.”

“It’s a shame I only have a short rope with me. But if you behave well today, next time I’ll tie you up more thoroughly.”

“I’m not sure if I should look forward to that.”

“Of course you should. Imagine keeping your legs split without having to strain your muscles. A delicate being like you deserves nothing less.”

Looks like I have no choice but to behave.

“So much for small talk. Now we need to get down to company,” he says while opening a notepad. I am perplexed by how easily he moves his attention from my surrendered body to a stack of notes.

“Firstly, we need to agree on the terms of our interactions,” he says.

“Is that necessary? It’s not like I have any bargaining power.”

“There won’t be bargaining, my dear. The terms I’m talking about are not mutual. They don’t limit my behavior. They limit yours, and yours only. You don’t want to accidentally defy me and make me publish those images, do you? You see, even when you’re tied up, you can still say things I don’t like to hear. I need to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

“What if I’m not worth your time? Shouldn’t you do a test run first? Maybe you’ll be disappointed and not want me anymore.” I know it doesn’t make sense. There’s nothing about my body that could disappoint him. But I’ll say anything to skip the boring lecture about his policy.

“I see,” he says. “You think I should fuck you first and see if any of your openings is too loose or too tight?” He’s apparently emboldened and escalating his insult.

But instead of protesting, I just nod and fight back tears of shame.

“Fine. I’ll take your suggestion this time. But I’ll set the agenda from now on.”

I nod again.

“Given how well you prepared yourself,” he says while taking off his pants, “I’m sure you have condoms in stock.”

“No, I forgot…” I almost start panicking, but then I suddenly realize something. “But… it’s one of my safe days. So you don’t have to…”

He smiles at me as if I’m an ignorant child who’s being too serious. “I was kidding, silly. I don’t care about condoms. As your owner, breeding with you is well within my rights.” he says while gently petting the top of my head, his hot red erection resting on my shoulder. It looks like he will never use condoms with me. That can certainly pose a long-term problem, but right now all I can think about is what will happen to me in the next few minutes.

I know he won’t be able to take me while I’m kneeling. So I stand up, walk over to my neatly made twin bed, and wait for him to tell me which side I should lie on.

“Here.” He points at my desk instead with his chin.

The desk is neat too, but there are a few books and a closed laptop on the desk taking up most of the surface. I can’t do anything about them with my arms still tied in the back. I suppose he will just sweep everything to the ground and put me on the desk, which, for a moment, makes me worry about my laptop. It’s the most expensive thing I own, given that I no longer own my body.

It turns out he doesn’t care about the items. The moment I step next to the desk, he quickly grabs the back of my neck and pushes my upper body down toward the surface of the desk. Without my hands, I can’t stop my body from falling. My breasts crash onto the cover of the laptop, which, fortunately, softens the landing of my forehead on one of the books. It doesn’t hurt, but the ruthless motion drives tears out of me.

“Oh, I forgot something.” He withdraws his hand from me and starts setting up his camera on a nearby counter so it can film his subjugation of me. The material of the laptop feels cold and hard against my breasts, making me tremble harder than I already was, but I decide to stay put and wait. Somehow it feels like the right thing to do. Maybe I want to show him I know the rules without him lecturing me.

After the longest minute in my life, he turns on the camera and walks back. “Are you ready?”

He didn’t have to ask, knowing the answer. But why would he waste another chance to humiliate me? I nod with my teary eyes closed.

I moan in a weak, exhausted voice as he slides his cock inside me. I look at the camera, hoping it will capture the details of my expression. I must look like I’m worshiping something as a true believer.

But my heart sinks when he stops moving after just a few strikes. “Hmm…” he says in a curious tone as if something is wrong with my body.

He lowers his body to look me in the eyes, his penis still inside me statically. “you know what? I never wondered a lady could be too wet for her own good. I hardly feel any friction.”

I know he’s messing with me. I can feel my flesh down there tightly squeezing him. Regardless of the gushing lubricant produced by my body, the friction should be enough to please him. But I don’t want to contradict him. I just clutch my vaginal muscle harder in the hope that he will resume.

He’s still not moving. Instead, he asks me, “has anyone fucked your butt hole?” Now I see his plot.

“Just once. It hurt a lot.”

He’s tempted, but probably worried about my resistance if it hurts me. “Will you still be a good girl if I make you go through it again?”

“I cannot promise.” My eyes get teary again from the expectation of pain. “But I washed it today.”

“Really? Say, if I fuck your butt hole, and then your mouth right after, are you going to throw up?”

“No. I made it very clean.”

“In that case, let’s not waste your effort.”

He makes up his mind and uses one hand to press down on my tied arms. I feel my front hole emptied and my back hole filled immediately. I manage to not scream, but the sudden pressure makes me cry audibly like a bullied child.

“You handle the pain well,” he says.

In all honesty, it’s not hurting this time because his penis was already fully lubricated by my vagina. “There’s no pain, just a lot of pressure,” I tell him, as implicit consent for him to continue.

But he turns static again. “I know you want to begin pleasing me badly. It’ll make you feel claimed. But I actually think now is a good time to talk about the rules.”

“Now?”

“Yes. Look at you. Whatever I tell you right now, you’re not in a position to say no.”

Of course I’m not. With my arms tied and grabbed, my face and chest pinned down to the desk, and my hip nailed in place by a warm rod halfway through my belly, there is nothing I can say besides the word “yes”.

He starts reading off his notepad.

“I will have a copy of your key.”

“Yes.”

“You will all the time address me as Master, in the third person.”

“Yes.”

“You will all the time address yourself as Little Girl.”

“What? I mean… yes.”

“You will all the time be available for me between 9 pm and 1 am.”

“Yes.”

“Of course, you will be free for the night if I don’t contact you by 10 pm.”

“Yes.”

His rule book goes on and on like the US criminal law. Every time I say “yes”, a rush of bittersweet sickness oozes from my chest to my throat, as if I’m touched by my own humility and sacrifice for the sake of a benevolent god. I’m not worried that I forget most of the rules. He probably wants me to break some of them anyway so he can assert his authority. I’m sure when that happens, I won’t be afraid of receiving the punishment I deserve.

“Last but not least, when I lease you to other masters, you will follow their rules until you are returned.”

“Yes. But Master…”

“What?”

“If I…Sorry. If Little Girl does something wrong, what will happen to her?”

“Oh, there will be a long list of consequences. But rest assured, I won’t damage my own property. Speaking of which, now I should formally claim you.”

He finally starts to move back and force. The pressure against my rectum is so strong that my butt cheeks feel like they are being split apart. That, plus the fact that I’m as immobilized as a piece of meat, forces an orgasm out of me in less than a minute.

“Hey! Have some self-control!” he commands. “Your butt hole contraction is making it too tight for me.”

“But I’m coming again… I cannot hold it! I’m sorry, master…” Before I even finish my sentence, another orgasm drives me into a scream that’s sharp enough to startle myself.

“You’re not listening to me!” He scolds while grabbing my hair to lift my head off the table.

I want to explain myself, but the intense bursts of pleasure make it impossible for me to talk.

At this moment, we hear a few angry knocks on the wall. An old man who lived next door shouts, “keep it to yourself bitch, it’s not a fucking brothel!”

Master stops moving again. “You hear that? If you keep screaming, I will have to drag you next door to apologize.”

“Please! No!”

“Then stop coming every minute like you are shooting porn. You’re a civilized lady, don’t you forget!” he says while poking me extra hard.

With an imminent third orgasm, I have to beg, “can you at least gag me, please?”

“Your language!”

“Can Master gag Little Girl, please? To help her be quiet…”

“No! You’re responsible for your own manner! You either be a lady and stay quiet or we invite your neighbor to have a go.”

I bite my teeth hard to block any voice from my throat. So when the next orgasm inevitably arrives, a cringe shrieking comes out instead of a scream. It’s far from what Master demanded, but at least saves me from the old neighbor.

“Next time we have to do something about that tight butt hole of yours.” He pulls out and switches to the other hole. It’s not too slippery for him after all.

He sits down after ejaculating to catch his breath. I stay put in the same position, trying to contemplate what all this means to me. The laptop underneath me is no longer cold, but covered with my warm sweat. I almost start worrying about some possible water damage, but quickly get distracted by the semen slowly flowing down my legs, which soothes me with a sense of belonging and accomplishment.

“We’ll definitely do something about it,” he says, still critical about my tight butt hole. “I will bring a plug for you to wear.”

“A plug? In my…”

“As I said, we should do something to loosen up your anus. Don’t you want to improve yourself?”

I’m a little upset to hear that my body needs to be fixed, but all I manage to say in response is, “yes, please help Little Girl improve.”

“But of course, that means your daily obligation to me will begin before my visit. Let’s see. You get back from work at around 7. That gives you two hours every day to wear the plug. May not be enough. But let’s see how it goes.”

“Little Girl can wear it at work if it helps.”

“It’s pretty intrusive though. It can remind you of me and distract you from work.”

“Little Girl will try to ignore it. ” That’s a lie actually. Of course that thing will remind me of him and what he did to me. Of course it will make my panties damp all day long and give me great discomfort. But I want to sound resilient.

“You are a tough girl. But don’t forget rule number 7: You’re not allowed to masturbate without my approval.”

“Little Girl won’t. She will bring extra underwear for change.”

“All right. It’s settled then.” He walks over and unties my arms. “You can stand up now.”

I stand up and turn around, expecting him to put on his pants and call it a day. But to my surprise, he takes off his jacket and shirt as well. “I will stay here tonight. Let’s take a shower.”

My bathroom is tiny. The shower space is just a two-foot wide square enclosed by walls and glass. “But it won’t fit two people.”

“It’s okay. You will stand between my feet and take no space.”

After the many orgasms on the desk, I am a little worried that my body will become fatigued and no longer reactive to his touch. But as soon as we stand under the showerhead skin to skin, that worry is gone. With my breasts squeezed flat against his chest and his breath blowing directly into my ears, the butterfly sensation inside my pelvis revives right away.

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