Bdsm Forced Stories

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Bdsm Forced Stories
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Favorited by disker , shygurl6193 , tmcel001 and 6 others
The Blushing Bride Wedding night of arranged marriage.
Losing Control Independent young woman reduced to nothing but a tame slut.
True Discipline for Her The discipline of a wife can be harsh.
Total Submission Wife achieves complete submission to her husband.
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A knock on the door woke Cierra abruptly. She glanced at the clock, it was 11:33pm. She felt panic rise in her chest and she grabbed her phone ready to call the police in an instant while she tiptoed to the door. Another knock followed by silence. Her phone vibrated in her hand making her jump in surprise. Matt had sent her a text message saying "It's me, let me in."
"Matt?" She spoke timidly from her side of the door. She was still waking up and figuring out what he was doing at her place so late.
She heard his muffled voice through the door stating, "It's me."
She felt a wave of relief and confusion, and opened the door for him. He hugged her tightly. "Matt, what the hell?" She and Matt briefly had their time once but it had passed, she had lost hope and interest of ever having a relationship with him.
He grabbed her shoulders and she saw the concern in his eyes, something was wrong. "Cierra, I have made a decision for both of us. I miss you." His gaze locked on her. "I'm sorry about how things happened before. I am truly sorry. I promise to never hurt you again, I will harm you but I won't ever hurt you like that again."
She had heard that line before from him and others, and as sincere as he seemed she resisted. She shook her head softly, "No, too much time has passed." She paused, "I don't want to be with you anymore."
"You are missing my point." He softly ran his hand along her cheek. "I'm not giving you a choice. You are mine now whether you acknowledge it yet or not."
She laughed softly, "No, Matt. You can't force me into submission."
He had a devious smile and grabbed her wrist. He spun her around by the wrist so that her back was pressed against his chest and her arm pinned between them. He used his other hand to grab her throat and pull her head back so his lips were next to her ear and he whispered, "We'll see about that."
"Stop it!" She screamed out, her heart racing. It had been so long since she felt his touch that she felt her body reacting. She inwardly screamed at herself for so easily yearning for his flesh again.
He roughly walked her to her bed, arm still pinned painfully behind her. He shoved her down against the bed while reaching down to take off her pants. She pushed and bucked against him, but he didn't budge. She screamed as he pulled her arm a little tighter to make her stop fighting. She felt tears welling in her eyes. "Matt... don't... Please, stop it."
His hand pulled off her panties and he tossed them aside. He felt the wetness and heat building between her thighs and shoved her on the bed. "You are mine, your fucking cunt even knows it." He undressed quickly as she climbed off the bed and ran to the other side of the room.
"No, not like this." She realized her voice didn't have the force she hoped it would, but she hoped he hadn't noticed. He was moving toward her and she tried to run past him. He grabbed her by the waist and pulled her back toward the bed with ease, although she was struggling and pushing against him.
"Isn't this what you always wanted, you little slut?" He grabbed her by the neck and pushed her down on the bed and ran his fingernails deep into the flesh of her back. Grabbing her hair and pulling her ear close to his lips again "Hmm? Isn't this what you want?"
She couldn't speak, she was breathless. Her head spun in confusion and lust. He kept her head up, and demanded, "Answer me."
She was shaking and could barely whisper, "Yes." She began crying and sobbing softly.
He replied in a stern tone against her ear, "You are mine now, you answer with 'Yes, Sir.' Do you understand?"
She spoke through her tears, "Yes, Sir."
He let go of her hair and she fell forward. He pressed his hardened cock against her ass. She was still resisting and trying to get away, so he slid two fingers inside her wet cunt while teasing her ass. Without much warning he shoved his cock inside her ass. She collapsed onto the sheets of her bed with a moan. The pain of the intrusion intermixed with such a pleasurable pressure within her. His cum soaked fingers grabbing and squeezing her breasts, then pinching her nipples. She felt him pumping his body against her forcing his way deeper and deeper.
She couldn't control herself anymore and forced her body harder against him wanting more and more. He put his fingers to her lips and she took them into her mouth to suck them clean. She felt herself reaching the apex... her legs shaking beneath his force with tears streaming down her face. He pushed her down, holding her against the bed as she violently shook and moaned beneath him. She felt him grab onto her sides, nails digging deep as he came.
She lay helplessly out of breath on the bed and felt him lay down on the bed next to her. She felt a pat on the bed and looked up at him. He whispered more tenderly, "Come here."
She scooted up close and lay her head on his chest as he lightly stroked her hair while she fell back asleep.
This really isn't the place to deal with the Neanderthal opinion expressed by the previous commenter, but here's what I have to say about your story. BDSM is, above all, consensual, and this story simply does not portray a BDSM relationship. That it features one party declaring out of the blue that he will now make all the decisions for both of them does not make it BDSM. Nor does the fact that the word "submission" appears, nor that he demands that she call him "Sir." This is not political correctness, this is accuracy. Your story is primarily a non-consent scenario, and there's a category for that.
For me, ultimately this story doesn't work. You haven't given us enough of who these people are as individuals, and what their history as a couple contains, to make this series of events seem plausible. I think it could be expanded and work very well as a non-consent story, though, and I'd love to see you do that. You've got interesting ideas and you can write well
One more thing... I don't see why you included "collaring" as a tag, since there's no mention of it anywhere.
I agree with the criticisms of the other commentators in that you need more development of the characters to really draw the reader in, but don't pay any attention to their politically correct concepts of rape vs D/s. What on Earth did they expect from the title "Forced" anyway. You have something here, and I hope to see more of it. We as a society need to come to terms that sometimes (and I do mean only some times) women achieve their best orgasm when they are raped, and the most important thing is that they should not be ashamed of it.
I love the beginning but.... You should have added alot more sexual detail and made it a long story. More force and making her crave him again. Just alot alot more. U could have done an amazing job on it. Make this an intro and create a story out of it
I agree that this is more about rape than domination. It lacks depth. As a submissive myself, I wanted to know what Cierra was thinking and feeling. Part of being submissive is giving yourself and allowing yourself to be dominated. It's part of an unspoken contract. I know it was called Forced and that should have been a clue, but the guy demanding she call him 'sir' doesn't make it a BDSM story.
This sounds more like a rape than a sub scene. I always thought brutal sex was usually thought thro first, the sub needs to have a certain amount of control, this seemed too one sided for me :-(
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He walks over to the bed and gazes at her sleeping so peacefully. He has plans for her tonight that she has shared with others but not with Him, well tonight that will all change. He rips the covers off her and grabs her by the hair taking her into the bathroom. She is still half a sleep but she struggles as He pulls her along. She half steps and stumbles into the tub as He pushes her down to her knees. Before she can react He orders he to pull His shorts down as she does He tells her that tonight she will do things His way and that weather she likes it or not she will obey immediately. To extenuate His point the lets go a stream of urine onto her lovely breasts. Now clean up and before you come to Me put on the restraints I have so thoughtfully laid out for you. As she bends down to turn on the water, He swats her beautiful ass.
She is shaking as she is getting cleaned up wondering what in the hell just happened but knows better that to ask. She quickly cleans up and gets out of the shower. She notices her restraints on the counter along with a sheer nighty, is she supposed to put that on also, no He did not tell her to but it is sitting there. She puts on her restraints and walks into the bedroom.
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Sheila fretted on her Master’s bed. She lay face down into the pillow, her wrists cuffed to her ankles. Her bared bottom was high in the air making her vulnerability and shame complete.
She had been in this position many times before awaiting her Master’s pleasure. But tonight was very different as she had angered her Master like never before. She had gone too far tonight and His face had been purple with rage. One look from Him had her hurrying home from the party in some distress.
The night had began well enough with Master taking her along to meet His many friends, the majority being Masters like Himself accompanied by their slaves. It was Sheila’s first party and she was determined to make Him proud of her and also to have a good time. She dressed very carefully in her black leather mini skirt and matching halter-top. She wore thigh high leather boots and wore her favourite gold Celtic jewelry, which Master had given to her when He had collared her and made her His slave . Her full lips she coloured fuchsia pink to match her nails. There was one thing missing, but Master came in and adorned her neck with His collar . She was complete. He smiled at her and she her eyes shone, as she knew He was pleased with her appearance.
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The place looks to be over a century old, shrouded in a cluster of large oak trees. Threatening dark clouds and thunder signal that another rainstorm is going to hit, so you quickly make your way up the long gravel road to the front porch. A knock on the door reveals that there is no one home. The windows are boarded up; the roof and sides of the house are riddled with neglect.
Rain begins to fall. You circle around to the back and find the entrance to a cellar. A rush of warm air strikes your face as you pull the storm doors open and quickly descend the stairs. Squinting in the darkness, you fumble with your pockets for the matches. You almost jump as a large rat scurries across the floor and disappears into another room. Outside, the heavy rain is pounding the earth, but you feel little comfort in your refuge.
Using one match, you slowly venture forth to the opposite end of the room to try the light switch. Nothing. There is a small white candle sitting on a dusty shelf, so you light it. The cellar looks to be completely empty. You wander through, what seems like an endless maze of rooms, when something catches your eye. Carved into the very foundation is a doorway that doesn’t seem to fit with the rest of the house. You approach it, holding the candle in front of you, and peer into the small passage. There is a steep, narrow stairway that spirals downward and out of sight. The ancient stone masonry gives you the impression that this was here long before the house was even built. Throwing caution to the wind, you decide to investigate and slowly descend the stairs.
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He had decided he wanted her, already knowing her for the slave she is, he called her office to set up a lunch meeting with her. Totally unaware of what he had planned for her, she agreed to the meeting. As she entered the restaurant, his eyes gleamed as he took her in, her thoughts on work, she smiled, as always respectful, ever the submissive she waits for him to order for them. His only thought is to get her out of there. While she excuses herself for the restroom, he then slips a sedative into her drink. She returns, they eat, drink and discuss his business ideas. But, he watches her knowing he has to get her out of the restaurant before the sedative starts working. He then starts to move things along, finishing, paying the check and steering her to the door. Feeling lightheaded and odd, she moves with him, as they approach the cars in the parking lot, her eyes roll back and she falls unconscious, his arms catching her deftly and with a smirk on his face. He sets her in the car and drives away.
Hours later, she awakens, she attempts to move, only to find herself chained. Her wrists crossed over her head to a ring in the ceiling, legs spread wide each ankle chained to rings on the floor. Her eyes widen as the cool air hits her naked flesh. Still groggy, and trying to focus she starts to panic, her eyes moving around the room, till they stop on him, sitting across the room from her, as if he had been watching her. He rises and slowly moves toward her the whip dangling from his hand. “Do you know where you are slut?” With a shake of her head she says softly “no.” He laughs then, a deep-throated laugh, as he reaches her his hand raises the whip, it’s five blades caressing her flesh. With a flick of his wrist it snaps with a CRACK against her bare breasts. She jumps in her chains her eyes wide, nipples suddenly erect, as a red welt rises on those soft mounds.
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It had been a long week. I was looking forward to the weekend as I headed home on Friday night. We would usually go out for a meal and a drink after work on a Friday and I was heading home to take a shower and get dressed for our evening.
He was already home when I got there. I would normally meet him in town so it was a little unusual to see his car in the garage. I walked inside, called out to him, and went into the bathroom to turn the shower on. When I came back into the lounge I realised that, depending on the decision I made in the next few minutes, we wouldn’t be going out that night, or maybe for the whole weekend. Lying on the coffee table was my collar, and if I picked it up, it would mean I was his slave until he took it off me.
When the collar is out it means that I am to be used as his slut, his playground, and a
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