Playing With Leanne I

This is a story featuring my slave Leanne. The stories can be read and enjoyed separately, so I have not included them in part of a large novel. But if you want to read them in the order in which they occurred it is this order (when I have completed writing the stories):

Playing with Leanne I

Playing with Leanne II: Tweezers

Playing with Leanne III: Red Hot Needles

Leanne Gives Up Her Safe Word

Leanne’s O Fantasy

The Crucifixion of Leanne

Leanne Sacrifices Her Clit

Leanne Moves In

Some of the tales do not really feature in a chronological order, because some of the events overlapped with some of the events above. These stories, so far, are detailed below. And some of the stories I simply cannot recall the correct chronology.

Leanne the Latex Nun

Reading to Leanne / Leanne Reading

Playing with Leanne I

A few years ago, before Covid, I was contacted by a woman called Leanne. She had heard that I was a cruel master and she wanted to suffer. I agreed to meet her, as I didn’t have a regular submissive at the time. So I arranged to meet Leanne in a coffee shop not that far from my house. The coffee shop has booths where people can talk without being overheard.

I was early, and I ordered a black coffee, no sugar. I like coffee a bit too much. I have to limit myself or I end up being awake all night. So I now drink a lot of decaf. But this morning I wanted that caffeine buzz.

Leanne came in and sat down opposite me. I had texted her a selfie so that she knew what I looked like, and I’d had a picture of her. In the flesh Leanne was around thirty years old. She had short, black hair, in what is known as a pixie cut. I have always preferred women with dark hair – and women with short hair. She was a little overweight, but that didn’t bother me. It was preferable to being thin like a skeleton. At least she had a little meat on her bones. In my mind’s eye I was already imagining a riding crop whipping down on her wide buttocks.

“Go and get yourself a coffee.” I said. “We will be here for some time.”

Leanne got up. She returned with a milky coffee. She sat down again.

“So, you want to submit to me.” I said. “Is that correct?”

“Yes.” Leanne said, a little quietly, as though scared that somebody might overhear her. She blew on her hot coffee before taking a little sip with her bright red lips. I imagine those lips wrapped around my cock. I thought about telling her to speak louder. But she looked very nervous, and I was scared that she might run away if I did that. I didn’t have any other submissives at that time, and I wanted to reel her in.

“Yes, Master Crowley.” I corrected her.

“Yes, Master Crowley.” she said, submissively. She might have been nervous about this meeting. But I judged that she was a natural submissive. But how much of a masochist was she?

“So tell me your desires.” I said, as I sipped my dark, strong coffee. “What do you want me to do to you?”

Leanne paused before answering, getting up her courage to tell me the dirty stuff.

“I want you to beat my backside, and maybe to beat my breasts.” she said. “Master Crowley.” She added that just in time.

“Have you ever indulged in BDSM activities before?” I asked. I preferred submissives who had done more than just vanilla stuff. I wanted to know that they would not cry off as soon as I got a bit heavy with the punishment.

“A bit, Master Crowley.” she admitted, lowering her gaze towards the table between us. “I had a boyfriend who would use a stick to beat my backside. But we’re no longer together.”

And now she needs more punishment. BDSM is like a drug. Once you start it is very hard to give up. You find yourself wanting more and more.

“Very well.” I said. “We will start off small. If you come for a session with me I will beat your arse with my leather riding crop, and then you tits. There will be a safeword. It will be Quitter, because that is what you will be if you use it. I will not enter your cunt during the session, but I will fuck your arsehole. Then you will suck me off. When I cum I will withdraw from your hot little mouth and spunk all over your face. That will end each of our sessions. You will leave my cum on your face until you get home. In later sessions we will expand your limits. If you are unable to take such expansion of your limits then simply do not come to see me. Eventually I would like to move towards no longer having a safeword. No that if you ever say Quitter that you will not only end the current session, but that you will also end our relationship. I will no longer be available to dominate you. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Master Crowley.”

Good, she had not balked. I’d had more than one person not go forward after hearing how it would be. But that still didn’t mean that she’d turn up.

“Good. Tell me a little about yourself.”

Leanne did, but hesitantly. I learned that she was a nurse, single and with no children. She told me a lot more, but those details are not necessary for the point of this true story. They might also allow people to identify her.

“Now tell me about your fantasies.” I continued. “I don’t mean what you want enacted in our future sessions, but the sort of things which you never want done to you, but which allow you to cum when you are rubbing you cunt in bed at night.”

Leanne paused. I thought, for a second, that I had pushed things a little too far, and that she was going to run out of the café. But she stayed. Her need for submission was great enough that she told me the fantasies which she had never shared with anybody else.

She had fantasies of women being subjected to torture by evil regimes, such as had occurred in South American dictatorships in the 1970s. She had read up on the real life cases of women being tortured, and she didn’t know how some of those victims had been able to hold out against the torture. It was clear that, when Leanne masturbated, that she saw herself as the victim. These fantasies would eventually lead to her asking me to do a story for her. That story was Joanne – the first one. The second and third stories were more my fantasies than Leanne’s, as she has not exhibited ant interest in women.

Leanne sometimes had other fantasies. Those were bound up in her religion, as she claimed to be a Christian. She admitted that sometimes she imagined images of Christian martyrs – Christ on the cross, St Sebastian pierced by arrows, St Catherine of Alexandria bound to a spiked wheel, and so on. It was clear that she wondered what it was like to suffer so much. Leanne asked me not to reveal these dark fantasies of hers, and I am only doing so now with her permission.

Anyway, we made arrangements for Leanne to come and see me. The menu would be a cropping, anal sex and me cumming on her face. But I wasn’t sure if she would actually turn up. I had had women pull out when faced with the prospect of real pain. Fantasies are fine, but not everybody can embrace the real thing.

That Saturday night Leanne rang the bell of my front door. I had made no restrictions on her appearance on my door, not wanting to put her off. I let her in. But there would be rules if she came for any further visits.

I took her coat. She was fully dressed underneath it.

“Next time, Leanne, when you come to suffer at my hands, I want you to wear a long coat. You are to be naked underneath it. You can wear high-heeled shoes, stockings and suspenders. But no other clothes. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Master Crowley.” she said submissively, lowering her glance. Good. She was easily slipping into a submissive personality. That boded well for future games.

“Undress.” I said. “Everything off. Leave your clothes on the floor.”

I watched as she self-consciously took her clothes off. She took her time, folding her clothes as she placed them on the floor. She was soon down to a lacy black brassiere and knickers. She sighed, deeply, and I thought for a second that she might chicken out. But she took off her bra, revealing her larger than average breasts. Then she pulled down her knickers, and placed those on her pile of clothes as well.

She had no piercings, apart from her ears, and no tattoos or other marks. But she did have a black bush on her cunt, although it had been trimmed a little at the sides. That would have to go.

I grabbed her fleece and tugged, making her wince.

“I like my slaves clean-shaven, Slave Leanne.” I said. “As this is the first time that you are visiting me I will let this slide. But if there are any hairs on your cunt the next time that you come to see me then I will take great fun in taking a pair of tweezers and plucking out each and every hair. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Master Crowley.”

“Good. Come upstairs to the playroom. I want to crop those buttocks of yours.”

At that time I didn’t really have a dungeon, although I did have a cellar. The playroom was the spare bedroom. It was actually the master bedroom, but I used it for a playroom because it was the largest room in the house. I’d had the room soundproofed. I’d told the workers that it was because I was a musician, and I’d had my electric guitar in the room at the time. But once the room had been soundproofed I began filling the place up with fetish stuff.

The walls of the room were painted dark red. The lights were red, as well. I felt it gave an almost demonic feeling to the place. There was no bed, for it would have got in the way of the X-frame against one wall. There was a set of stocks, and what I thought of as a bondage table. This was low, only coming up to my knees, and it was large enough that a person could be tied spread-eagled on it. The surface was covered with thick black rubber (hey, everybody hated splinters). There were four steel rings set into each corner of the bondage table, so that a person could be tied in place.

There was a space in the room where my gynaecological table would go, when I finally managed to obtain one. I hadn’t one back then, but really wanted one. It would be imposing, even if it was just for show. It would suggest nasty pussy torture as soon as you saw it.

Arranged on hooks and shelves around the walls of the room were all of the items of torture that I had been able to get my hands on. There was a cane, a riding crop and a bullwhip. There was a set of pliers, bought from a hardware store. Hardware stores are great if you are into BDSM. Nobody looks at you odd if you buy lengths of chain or padlocks from the place. I have wondered just how many of their customers wanted such things for bondage.

I had piercing needles, as well, easily obtainable. I had never got to use them yet, but I lived in hope. I had some tweezers – again, a normal item. I also had various vibrators and dildoes. At that time, when Leanne first came to me, I didn’t yet have a TENS unit or attachment. That would come a little later.

Leanne stared around the room. I saw both fear and arousal in her eyes. I wondered whether she wasn’t just a submissive, but also a masochist. I guessed that I was about to find out.

“Lie down over the edge of the bondage table.” I said. “I’m going to start by caning your backside.”

“Yes, Master Crowley.” Leanne whispered. Her voice had been so submissive that I began to get turgid. I was looking forward to this, and I hoped that she wouldn’t be a quitter.

She knelt down, her torso on the table, her big arse sticking out. I had her move her legs wide apart, so that I could see her cunt and anus. I pulled her buttocks apart and took a long look at her anus, just to humiliate her.

“I think that I’m going to enjoy fucking your arsehole.” I said. Her face reddened but she didn’t say anything.

I picked up the cane. I took a few practice swings through the air. Leanne couldn’t see what I was doing, but she could hear the swish of the cane. I saw her buttocks tighten. I gave a few more practice switches. Then I waited for her to relax.

I brought the cane down across both of her buttocks, striking sideways. I didn’t put too much force into the blow. I only wanted to cause a little pain, as I wasn’t sure just how much she could stand.

“Oh!” Leanne said, a very erotic sound. I watched as a faint pink line appeared on her pale flesh. I could tell that she was into it. I flicked the cane across her ample buttocks again, creating another pink line. She wiggled her arse at me again.

“Harder.” she said. Her voice was already throaty with arousal. Well, having been told to cane her harder I could hardly refuse. I could not have her going away thinking that I could not be cruel enough for her. But I still did not want to be too strict, at least to begin with. I didn’t want to lose her. I knew that I had to let her endorphins build up slowly, let her drift into subspace before the real pain began.

I put a little more speed into the blow. The cane swished through the air. It was stopped by the cushion of the flesh of her buttocks.

“Harder.” she whispered. Her eyes were closed. I could see her knuckles whiten as she gripped the end of the table. I would have loved to have looked inside her mind just then.

I couldn’t afford to be seen to be weak. So I slashed down hard. A deep red line appeared, with a little drop of blood at the end of the line. I had not intended to draw blood on the first encounter.

“Oh!” Leanne said, closing her eyes but opening her mouth. I had found the right level of force, near enough. I carried on whipping her, just taking the barest smidgen of force off the strength of the blows. Leanne said oh with every impact, with every line of pain across her wide backside. The sounds were not those of a woman in pain, but one in pleasure. And I could smell the smell of arousal. She was clearly highly turned on. I liked this Leanne. She was the yang to my yin. I began to think of future visits, and all of the perverted things that I would be able to do to her.

I paused just then. I got naked. It was better with my erect cock out of my trousers, no longer constricted by the material. My cock was fully engorged, almost nine inches long and thick. My glans was already a purple colour.

I picked up the cane again. I gave her a few more strikes, just for good measure, in some of the white areas which I had not yet struck. She was now striped from the crease where her buttocks met her thighs, up to just below the small of her back. There was only the single place where I had split the skin and drawn blood. I was pretty experienced with a cane. Leanne was not my first victim.

I paused. I had done enough on her big, fat butt. I had Leanne turn over. I wanted to give a few hits to her big tits. Just a few, to tell her that no part of her was off limits. I decided to save her cunt for future visits, when it was no longer protected by curly black hair.

Leanne opened her eyes. They were a little teary, and very wide. Her body was defenceless. But she did not ask what I was going to do. She knew. In her masochistic fantasies she must have already imagined this.

She closed her eyes again, and arched her back, thrusting her tits towards me. I could see fluid running down from her red slit. The scent of her arousal filled the air.

“May I masturbate, Master Crowley?” she asked.

“Not yet.” I said. This was not about her pleasure. But part of me decided to be kind. “I will tell you when you can masturbate. It will be when we near the end whipping your tits. You will have a small window of opportunity in which to cum. I don’t care whether you cum or not. But I am a big believer in orgasm denial for slaves. In future sessions I will not allow you to caress yourself. If you cum it will have to be while under torture.”

“Yes, Master Crowley. Thank you, Master Crowley.”

I began what, for me, was a relatively gentle caning of her breasts. The marks were minor, and would soon fade. Breasts are a lot softer than a person’s backside. But I was sure that Leanne was feeling pain. But not so much that she lost her arousal, though.

I kept up the beating of her breasts for a long time, making sure that I brought a nice pink flush to every square inch of her milky white mammaries. I caned the sides and the undersides. The areolae and nipples were not neglected. By the time that I had spent a very pleasant hour slowly caning her tits I could tell that Leanne was desperate to cum. I decided to be both kind and cruel at the same time.

“Okay, Leanne, this is what I am going to do. I am going to start some very harsh caning of your breasts, with the sorts of strokes that will leave marks that won’t fade for a long time. But I am going to let you caress yourself while I do so. I want you to be able to cum while you are experiencing pain. The caning will stop when you cum.”

I raised the cane, as Leanne began frigging herself. I brought it down in a savage stroke which indented into the soft flesh of her left breast. Leanne screamed, but did not tell me to stop. I raised the cane, and gave an equally savage stroke to her right breast. Another scream, followed by…

“I’m cumming!” Leanne shouted, bucking and writhing. The last thing which she did, as she came, was to pinch her bright red clit between her nails, really digging them into her love button. I took note.

I decided that Leanne had had enough, at least for a first encounter. Besides, I wanted to fuck her. My cock demanded it.

“Turn on your front.” I said. Leanne obeyed me. I think that she was happy not to be on her caned arse.

I took hold of one of the cheeks of that striped arse with my left hand, spreading it as much as I could. I had some oil which I slathered on my cock for lubrication.

I guided my glans to her anus and pushed. I was surprised by the lack of resistance. This was not the first time that Leanne had had something up her arsehole. I pushed until all of my cock was up her arse, right up to my balls. Leanne groaned and bit the back of her hand. I couldn’t tell whether the groan was in pleasure or pain; and the truth was that I didn’t particularly care. She had come to see me to be hurt, not for some tender vanilla relationship.

I began a slow, rhythmic fucking. Leanne had had her fun. This was about me. I took my time, as my cock was squeezed by her hot arsehole.

I did not cum up her anus, though, for I had one more thing (or so). to do. When I got cose I pulled out of Leanne, who was, I think, a little bit surprised that I had not spurted up inside her.

“Kneel on the floor.” I said. Leanne did as ordered, opening her mouth, thinking that I wanted to finish with a bit of oral, despite the fact that my cock had been up her arsehole. I made a mental note that she had no problems sucking a cock which had just been up her arse.

I did not put my cock inside her mouth, though.

“Close your eyes.” I commanded. I jerked off over her face. It had been some time since I had orgasmed, so I bathed her face with string after string of hot, whit cum. It began rolling down her face.

“Do not wipe it off!” I ordered. “You are to wear it all of the way home. When you get home, I want you to take a selfie to show that you have obeyed me.”

“Yes, Master.” Leanne said. I could see that she felt humiliated by the prospect of driving home with my spunk all over her face. But that was good. Humiliation, in breaking a slave, could be as important as pain.

“One more thing before you go.” I said. “After I cum I always need to take a piss. It cleans out the tubes, you see.”

At first Leanne did not open her mouth. There was the slightest bit of resistance before she obeyed. I decided that, from every visit from now on, it would end with me pissing in her mouth, and her drinking it all. She was going to be a piss slut as well as a pain slut for me.

I put the tip of my detumescing prick between her lips.

“You are to swallow it all.” I said. “You have been an excellent victim so far. This will be the last thing that I ask of you tonight.”

I did not release all of the piss in one go, but in little spurts, so that Leanne would not choke. She swallowed it all down, although she clearly did not like the taste.

“Okay, you can get dressed and go now, my little toilet.” I said. “Just be thankful that I’m not into scat.”

I saw Leanne flush beneath the sperm still covering her face. She got dressed and left. Thirty minutes later I had a selfie from her, from inside her flat, showing the mostly dried spunk still on her face. And that was my first encounter with Leanne. But I knew that there would be many more.

The End.