Water's Wet Erotica (Seven Stories: Including Virgin to Vixen Series)

To everyone: We all start out as a virgin
and somewhere along the
way
we
found the middle ground that turned
us on.
 

This
has seven short stories.
It is a
piece
of
fiction
intended to
arouse
the reader. This short story should be viewed as such. The story will
lead
you on an adventure into a world of sex that you may or may not be familiar with.

Please note that these stories contain explicit
erotic
and sexual content. Mature readers only. Reader discretion is advised.

Please further note that all characters depicted are of legal adult age.

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“I am what I am.”

“You’re a wolf in sheep
’s
clothing.”

“Then you are my prey.
”
My feminine
hand
had
risen up
into
the
air
before I
brought
down
the paddle on her pretty white ass
.

I heard her grunt rebelliously while she tried to
hold
in
her
scream
. She was
perfect
—she was a
naughty girl
who
thought she could walk into our
business
and
assume
the role of a dominatrix.
She
would learn quickly
that she
would
have to fuck her way up the sex
chain
before she
could
claim such
a high position
.

I leaned
over
and rubbed the apple
-
red
welt
where my paddle
had
connected with her skin.
It was
warm
to the touch, and my cold hand made her flinch.
I ran my fingers into the crack of her ass and slid my pinky over her anus to the hot, wet sensation between her legs. I thought I heard her moan.

“Now, you’re being a good girl,” I told her. I could feel my own panties quickly becoming
moist
over her reactions.

“Mistress Alina
? Were you
put
through this
form of
submission
before you became a dominatrix?”

“Did I say you could speak?”

“No.”

I saw her ass cheeks clench together. She was preparing for my pussy
paddle
to connect with her again. I felt a tinge of
irritation
that she thought I would be that stupid as to
smack
her when she expected it.
I was much better than that.

“My story is
quite
different
from most
. I’m not sure I could
do
it justice if I were to
tell
it.”

“Can you try
, please
?” she asked.

I knew she was trying to
divert
her
punishment
, but in a way, I liked that she asked me
about
myself
.
In this
world
of sexual gratification,
everyone thinks of themselves. But this little red
-
headed
beauty
who
I had tied down to a kitchen table with a foam
wedge
under her stomach so that her ass was in the air,
had
asked about me. She deserved an answer.

I placed my paddle down on the table between her legs. I ran my hand over her ass and rested it on the small of her back. “Little one, you’ve earned a story.”

I saw her eyes light up and her
white teeth flash behind her
perfect
smile.
I sat down in a chair near the table, close enough to
touch
her, and I began t
o recall the events of my life—the events that led me to the massage parlor that doubled as a fetish house.
I wasn’t sure how far to
go
back, so I started back to the turning point that I could remember.

“
I was five years old when I first learned that sex was a
terrible
thing. I was sitting on the
floor
in our kitchen, playing with my
baby
doll
,
when
our male dog
jumped onto the
back
of our
female
dog
.
He moved in a strange rhythmic
motion
that I had never seen before.
At the time, I thought the male dog was killing the female dog. But I watched in awe until my mother walked into the kitchen and k
icked the male dog in his ribs.

“
My mother’s high
-
pitched
screech
along with the dog booted across the room scared
me. But I was intrigued
by my mother’s response to what the dogs were doing as much as I was intrigued by what the dogs were doing
.
My mother had made her feelings
of dismay and revulsion
clear to me
—
sex was
sinful
.
”

“Wow!”

“I know.” I stood and began to
pace
. It was
suddenly
awkward
to talk to this female stranger about my childhood. But oddly, it felt
therapeutic
,
as well
.
I could tell that my red
-
headed
vision
of beauty
was
eager
to hear more of the story.
I walked behind her, picked up my pussy
paddle
and slammed it hard against her ass.
This time, s
he didn’t expect my paddle. That
was
what made her
surprised
reaction all the more exciting.
Like a mouse, she squealed out in pain. I
’d
got her
good
.

I continued my story. “
My next encounter with sex was when I was eight. I heard a moaning sound that came from my
older
brother’s bedroom. I was curious, so I got out of bed and tiptoed to his room.
His door was cracked
open a tiny bit
,
and I could see my brother watching a movie on the computer.
When I looked c
lo
ser
, I could see
that movie included two girls
who were
kissing. I inhaled and threw my hand over my mouth
to keep a gasp from escaping
. When I looked at my brother, I only
saw
his
side
profile. His right hand moved up and down his dick. At the time, I compared it with Snickers, our male dog.
I was mesmerized at the pleasure he looked
like he was in the middle of enjoying
.

“
I was different.
I knew my
body
was different from his and Snickers. I didn’t have what they had and that made me
jealous
. I wanted to continue to
watch
him, but
M
om broke up that
party
,
too.
She came through the hallway and saw me peeping at my brother and all hell broke loose.
Once again,
my mother had scorned him with her verbal
tirade
that his
act
of masturbation
was a
sin
, and she began to pray over him
as he hurriedly tried to cover himself. She was trying to
cast
out the
evil
that she claimed possessed my brother.”

“Your mom was religious?”

I shrugged. “No, she was
just
fucked up. She even refused to
touch
my
alcoholic
stepfather. She had
deep-seated
issues with sex
and she aimed to pass on her dysfunctional beliefs on me and my brother
.”

“So
,
how did you
become
a
M
istress?”
s
he asked me.

“Don’t be impatient,” I said with my hand raised up in the air. I wanted her to know that I would slam my hand down on her bare ass at any
time.

She
close
d
her
mouth
quickly
. I realized
that
she was a fast learner in the lessons of bondage. I ran my hand through my short, spiked
blonde
hair. I felt my nipples
pucker
with
satisfaction
. I knew there was a lot to teach this girl, and I’d make sure
that
she und
erstood the mental connection
between Mistress and submissive.

“Mistress?”
she asked in a sweet, respectful tone.

“Yes,” I said as I walked around the table
,
contemplating my next
move
on her young, fresh skin.
I wanted to
turn
her skin from snow
-
white to a beet
-
red color.
I wanted her to
find
pleasure
in be
com
ing a
submissive
.