Title: Meet Butch
Warnings: BDSM, rough anal sex and paddling
Hmm, how to start.
My name is Butch, well it’s not the name my parents gave me--that’s Amanda Tracey--but Butch is a given a name. It’s the name Daddy gave me when I officially became her boi.
I loved my collaring ceremony. It was huge: Daddy wanted to present me to the whole community. She held the ceremony in our garden. It was midnight on the eve of Summer Solstice. I walked through an isle of torches to meet her before a small altar.
Daddy wore full leathers.
I was dressed only in black leather hot pants and a thin silver chain attached to each of my nipple rings.
My formal collar, the one I received during our ceremony is made of soft, braided black leather with a simple lock clasp, only Daddy has the key, and my collar only ever comes off if Daddy wishes to play, at which time she will place me in one of the many other collars I have acquired over the nine years we have been together.
My collaring was the day I moved in with Daddy, the day our relationship became 24/7--moving from the dungeon and some vanilla dating to our home.
Am I going to fast? Maybe I should take some time and describe a Daddy/boi relationship, or more specifically, our relationship. My Daddy’s name is Betty. I most always address her as Daddy, although in some soft tender moments I have been known to refer to her by her name. Daddy and I play at the dungeons but we also live our roles full time. Daddy is the older protective partner in our relationship. I am her boi. Our relationship is based on a nurturing power dynamic. She, as the Daddy, is the head of our household, and I answer to her as such. She makes the rules, and when I follow them life is good. When I don’t, I am subject to chastisement in the form of a bare assed spanking over Daddy’s knee, or, should I have really fucked up, bent bare over our bed for a whipping with one of Daddy’s belts.
Betty is 43; she owns a small auto repair shop. Betty has played in the local leather scene since she was 17, so basically she has always been a leather dyke. And, from what she tells me, she has always been a top. This doesn’t really surprise me because her siblings say she has been a bossy SOB since before she could even talk. But the thing is that, for all her bossiness and her SOBness, people in the community seek her out for her kindness, knowledge and support. She can always be counted on to come through in a pinch.
I met her when she was 34; it was lust at first sight.
I was just a baby dyke at the time, 19 and new to the scene. I had arrived at the dungeon on my own that night. I knew the leather scene was wear I belonged…but I was young and poor, so my wardrobe consisted of short cutoff jeans, a thin white t-shirt (braless, of course), and my 14-eye, black steel-toe Dr. Martin boots.
I entered the dungeon, and there she was, a thick woman, standing out at 5’ 10, 180 lbs and with huge breasts. She was holding a heavy wooden paddle and wearing nothing but a large strap-on.
She had just bent a fully clothed woman over a padded sawhorse. She leaned against the woman and rubbed her cock along the woman’s clothed butt as she spoke in her ear, “I’m gonna pull your pants down and paddle your butt until it is cherry red, and then I am going to fuck your ass hard and fast until your whole body shakes with pleasure.”
It wasn’t just her words but also her voice, attitude, and definitely her tits and the strap on that made me cream my pants like I never had before. The tone of her voice made me stand up straight. Her commanding presence made me want to follow her every command. I hadn’t really thought of myself as submissive before; in fact I am a bit stubborn and like things to be my way. But as I watched her, I realized her way was my way.
She continued. “Is that what you want, boi? Do you want me to paddle your ass and then fuck you until you can’t see straight?”
“Yes Daddy,” I heard the woman whisper.
“What’s your safe word, baby?” She asked.
“Parcheesi,” the woman answered.
I hadn’t noticed that Betty had been undoing the woman’s fly while they were talking, but as soon as the safe word was disclosed, Betty slowly lowered the woman’s tight leather pants to display her very vanilla white cotton panties--I would later learn how much Betty loves while cotton panties, but that’s another story. Betty then slid her fingers into the waist band of the woman’s underwear and lowered them to join the pants pooled around the woman’s ankles.
I noticed the woman close her eyes and take a deep breath.
Her voice and sexual dominance seemed to excite every cell in my body. I could feel my face flush and my skin tingle. My nipples stood erect and my stomach did lovely flip flop things that caused me to get more and more wet. No one had ever aroused me the way she did.
Betty stepped to the side of the woman and raised the large wooden paddle. I was amazed at the skill she exhibited as she swung it through the air to crack loudly across her partner’s ass, but the thing about her swing that excited me the most was how her cock bounced as she expertly paddled the woman’s ass to a bright red.
I have no idea how many swats landed; I was too mesmerized by the sound of the crack on her ass and the dance of Betty’s cock.
Betty dropped the paddle to the floor after the last smack.
I watched as she slowly teased the crowd as she wiggled her hands into a pair of latex gloves, allowing them to make loud snapping noises as she let them loose onto her wrists.
By this time, I was so wet that I was gliding around in my shorts.
Betty picked up a bottle of lube and raised it high as she squirted lube over her cock, the woman’s ass crack and her left hand. She rubbed her fingers together to spread the lube around her hand. “Boi, are you ready to be fucked?” She asked.
And the woman let out a slow affirmation.
Betty quickly inserted two fingers into the woman’s ass, eliciting a low-pitched hiss from her partner. She smiled at the noise, which was a combination of pain and lust. She finger fucked the woman, until her boi began to beg for a hard and fast ass-fucking, and that was all the encouragement Betty needed to fully bury herself in her boi toy.
The dungeon quieted to the sounds of Betty and her boi moaning and grunting their pleasure, and that was the moment I knew I wanted to spend my life as her boi.