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!

“Go home and rest. Tomorrow we have more intense scenes.” I nodded, legs still trembling as I walked out of the changing area. Cum from two men was still leaking down my legs, my pussy sore and satisfied in the best way. This academy was teaching me things I never knew I needed. And I was loving every filthy second of it.

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?”

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.

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.

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.

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.

A sub wouldn't work with him either unless he could find the softest dom ever who'll never punish him. Blake spanked him few times when he misbehaves and he hated every second of it. He doesn't even want to think what a dom would do to him, he'd probably just break down to tears or go domeless. His best options are either a little or a Neko, they are different but share being the softest kind of relation. He didn't mind being either of them so with his finger crossed he went into the classification room. Kayla stayed with him until it was time to close his eyes and let the machine test him. She squeezed his hand one last time before leaving and everything went black.

Though, with all of these going on in my head, I couldn’t speak, couldn’t move, only listen as he continued to weave his control over me. “BDSM,” he said, his tone still steady and calm. I’d heard that before, but wasn’t really familiar with it. “I know. I’m sure you know nothing about that. I’ll tell you.” His lips curled into a faint smile which disappeared almost immediately. “It is not just about pain or pleasure. It’s about pushing you past your limits, showing you parts of yourself you didn’t know existed.” He reached out, his fingers tracing along my jawline with a soft, deliberate touch that left every never ending awake, waiting for more. “And it’s about trust. You’re trusting me to