Bdsm Training Story Novels & Stories

I finish just before Cole does so I take our plates away and put them in the dishwasher. "Do you want to talk here or in the living room?" I ask sternly and Cole mumbles living room. He leads the way and plops down in the far corner of the couch so I sit next to him but far enough away so I can turn to see him. "I like you Cole, I want to be in some sort of relationship with you but for this to happen there's something I have to tell you," I start and pause to check he's listening, "I'm part of a certain lifestyle that means I need a lot of control over my partner. Have you ever heard of BDSM?" His eyes widen and he nods quickly so I continue, "I'm a dominant and I'd like you to become my su

He is the only one who can send me to hell in heaven and drag me back. The rate at which he handles my body when it tangles in his, the sexual chemistry, the burning pleasurable desire, and the way my body writhes in his addictive touch make me go lustfully crazy. I don't know if such feelings ever existed before! My mother never mentioned this to me; she even barely spared time to teach me sex education. But here I am, having a bonus, a premium of the real thing, and the unfortunate part is that he is my coach! A 30-year-old married man! While I'm just a 19-year-old trainee of his!

“Come eat. After that, we’ll continue your training.” I followed him downstairs, completely naked, my body on fire and my mind full of dirty thoughts about what he was going to do to me next. This was only day two, and I was already completely addicted to Uncle Ken’s discipline.

The weeks blurred into a haze of sex, guilt, and self-destruction. I had become a ghost haunting my own life. The Harem treated me like royalty. They gave me everything I demanded — larger groups, riskier public scenes, more extreme training. I hosted sessions in luxury hotels, private jets, and even once in a rented nightclub after hours. I let them push my body to limits I had never reached before. Double anal. Full fisting. Breath play that left me seeing stars.

he used the nickname he’d given me years ago, “In fact I can’t wait to get started with your training in particular.” “MY TRAINING?” I mouthed to daddy. To which he just shrugged noncommittally. “Hasn’t your daddy told you? Oh John, I am once again disappointed at your lackadaisical methods of introducing a true slut to the wonders of BDSM.” “BDSM?” I questioned. “Isn’t that bondage, and sadomasochism?”

"Don't fight. Show your husband how well-trained you are." His fingers worked her. Rough. Demanding. And her body—God, her traitorous body—started responding. "No," she sobbed. "Please no—" "Yes," Dante breathed. "Cum for me. Cum while your husband watches. Show him what I've done to you." She tried to fight it. Tried to hold back. But he'd trained her too well. Three weeks of forced orgasms. Three weeks of her body learning to respond despite her mind. She came with a broken moan. Hating herself. Hating that James was watching. Hating that this was his last memory of her.

His explanation not helping much, oh no I realise, okay, sex shop, what else was I expecting it is obvious if it is connected to Lustful Surrender. The name is so easy for me to say now, it just rolls off my tongue freely, I feel like if anyone asked about it, I won't be embarrassed anymore, arriving back at his we walk in quietly, I don't understand how he got into all this, all the BDSM and the business, he doesn't look abused or broken, sure he is heartbroken but that was clearly after he was involved in it. Arriving at his we walk into the house, his eyes watching me. "What are you thinking Lisa? You have that look where you are considering something?" Sean's voice quiet.

After a long, scalding shower—the hot water stinging her fresh wounds like fire, she wrapped herself in a threadbare towel and collapsed onto her bed, opening her laptop with trembling fingers. She searched online: "What is BDSM really about?" Dozens of articles and forums popped up, explaining concepts like consent, trust, aftercare, and safe words. Masters provided structure and guidance, subs found cathartic release in surrender. It wasn't just about pain; it was safe pain, negotiated with boundaries and mutual respect. Discipline, not random destruction. Emotional healing through controlled vulnerability.

“We do everything here. Down to orgies. Threesomes. We have a BDSM room in the basement. Chains. Whips. Private shows. Whatever pays.” My stomach flipped. Heat rushed to my face again. She stood up fully. Walked to me. Close. Too close. Her body glistened with sweat and glitter. Makeup perfect even after everything. She smelled like sex. Salty. Sweet. Heavy. She leaned in. Lips near my ear. Tongue brushed the shell. Soft. Wet. Then bit gentle. Teased. I froze. Whole body locked. Confused. Scared. A little turned on. Didn’t know what to do.

I took his number and tried to ignore it for a few weeks until I gave in and went to see him. So now every week I go to see this man who digs into my thoughts and usually insults me but I keep going because he introduced me to bdsm. I did two months of training with the man who owns the club, Marcus Carlisle. He wasn't very easy on me, he made me try all sorts of things that I want to do to submissives. I let him deepthroat me, I let him whip me, I even let him put a sound into my dick. I drew the line at fucking me, I used a safeword when he tried to do that. He gave me a lot of rules and a lot of warnings and if I don't follow those I get kicked out. Which seems fair enough for me.