GETTING READY FOR THE VAULT By Julie S. asparrow@bigfoot.com Copyright 2000
GETTING READY FOR THE VAULT Jurgen has the clothes for me laid out on the bed. There is a black blouse so sheer that it is virtually see-through, a pink mini-skirt, pink garter belt and black stockings with pink high heels. No bra. No panties, but there is a dog collar. It is his fantasy outfit. Jurgen says he is taking me to New York City for the weekend and we will be going to a night club called The Vault. He has told me about the night club many times before. He has taken other girlfriends there. Now it is my turn. Usually he does not tell me where we are going. That is part of the excitement of our dates. I never know where he is taking me. With his close cropped dark hair and steely grey eyes, Jurgen looks so severe the sight of him makes me feel weak in the knees. The fabric of his black tee shirt tightly hugs his muscular chest. His unshaved face, his sinewy, tattoed forearms and his black jeans, the big black leather belt and heavy steel buckle and leather boots all make him the ultimate image of masculine strength and dominance. Just the sight of him makes me feel submissive. I try the blouse on, but I am embarassed to see my modest breasts clearly visible through the fabric. The blouse is so sheer it demands a beautiful bra. I open my lingerie drawer and pull out a pretty pink lace bra that is cut daringly low so my nipples peek through the delicate lace, but Jurgen is not pleased. I am testing his patience. The sight of those cold grey eyes and the clench of his jaw intimidate me. Jurgen insists I am going to The Vault in the blouse showing off every detail of my breasts and nipples. He says it is not a place for modest women. He wants to put me on display. "No bra. " "The blouse is beautiful. I love it. I really do. But it shows everything. I feel naked. I don't want people to see my nipples." "That's the idea. They'll know my woman is one hot bitch." That word never fails to send an electric thrill through me. It turns Jurgen on to call me a bitch. He always says it with such emphasis. It is our secret game. He is extremely serious. He is my Alpha Dog and I am his bitch. On Valentine's Day he did not give me chocolate or a card, but the black leather dog collar with "Julie" engraved on the silver tag. He likes me to wear it when I am naked. Sometimes he attaches a leash to it and sometimes he has me eat out of a bowl on the floor while he watches with a strange expression on his face. It gets him extremely hard. He says he is training me the way he trained his big rottweiler, Deisel. He wants to have me under voice control, just like his dog. All I want to do is please him. I live to make him happy, just like his dog. He is my master. * * * It has only been six months, but already I think of my life as BJ and AJ, "Before Jurgen" and "After Jurgen." I am not the same person I was "Before Jurgen." I have never had a boyfriend quite like Jurgen. On our first date I willingly put my hands behind my back so he could tie my wrists together with a silky scarf. That was so unlike me. At least unlike the old Julie. I hardly knew Jurgen then, and I had been reluctant to go to the apartment alone with a strange man on the first date, but there is something about Jurgen that I cannot say no to. When he had me tied up he then burned my bra and panties off me with a lighter and bent me over his knee and gave me a such a spanking that my ass had his handprint on it for days. When I agreed to go on a second date with him he said he "owned" me. At the time I did not understand what he meant, but I thrilled at the sound of it. I never had a man talk to me the way Jurgen does. He calls me bitch all the time. He almost never calls me by my name. It is as though he has changed my name. He calls me a whore, slut and cunt more than he calls me Julie. About the sweetest thing he calls me is "my little cunt." I would hate that from any other man, but for some reason it excites me when Jurgen talks to me like that. I love being his little cunt. Jurgen has shown me things I never imagined; bondage, what he calls the pleasure of light pain, submission and even humiliation. He has introduced me to the world of safe words, hot wax and handcuffs. He has turned my life upside down and transformed me into a kneeling, submissive thing who lives to please him. My mother would definitely not approve of him. Jurgen insists there are other people who do this sort of thing and that I will see some of them when he takes me to The Vault. But for me there is only one man who counts, my Master. He is so complex and unusual. I am utterly intrigued by this man. He has become my lover, my mentor, my employer and my Master. I definitely have no need for anyone else in my life. Being Jurgen's girlfriend is exciting and intense, but it is not easy. It is a total commitment. He insists on knowing every detail about me. On that first date he stretched me out on his living room carpet and went over my naked body, examining every nook and cranny. He even opened my mouth and examined my teeth! After only three weeks together he went through my closets and drawers and sorted out the clothes he likes and made me get rid of the things he does not. He made me throw away the CDs he did not like. He has just taken over control of my life. I gave up my job at the bank to work in the German restaurant Jurgen owns. I wear a white off-the-shoulder peasant blouse, red corset and short black skirt like all the other waitresses because it turns him on to make women dress like that. No one at the restaurant knows I am Jurgen's girlfriend, but from what I hear from the other girls, there are at least three other waitresses who used to be his girlfriend before me. I heard one girl talk about going to Dusseldorf with Jurgen last summer and I felt so jealous. Jurgen has talked about taking me to Dusseldorf this summer. When we go out to eat he always orders for me. No man has ever done that. He makes it a game, ordering something he knows I hate, like liver, or something exotic I never tried before, like sushi or snails, and he sits back and watches me, insisting I eat it all. Sometimes he has me eat from his fingers. Just as he tells me what I will wear every day, I eat what he decides, even when he is not around. On our first date he sat on the sofa and tossed popcorn at me while I sat on the floor. I was supposed to catch the kernals in my mouth and when they landed on the floor I had to lean down and eat them. I had quite a bit to drink that night and I thought it was all a silly game. I found out he was quite serious. With Jurgen everything is a test for me. Having me wear the sheer blouse with no bra into The Vault is only the latest challenge he has dreamed up for me. Every day I have to prove my devotion to him in some way. He always has some wicked torment for me, whether it is enduring the exquisite agony of sandpaper in my bra, eat tuna fish salad out of his dog's bowl or go to the mall wearing the dog collar and tag he bought me. He is constantly finding my limits and pushing them, he says that is his responsibility. When we started going out Jurgen said I was undisciplined and spoiled. He called me a princess and it was not a compliment. I was intrigued with the idea of dating such an older, more experienced man. I was in awe of his intelligence and arrogance. His dominance brought out a submissive in me that I never knew existed. For some reason I did not understand, but he did, I felt a need to submit to him. Anyone who knew me Before Jurgen would never think I was the least bit submissive and I am a big baby when it comes to pain and discomfort, but I am a totally different woman with Jurgen. Our relationship has been very private. Since I was a little girl I have told my sister all my secrets, but I cannot talk to Kathy about Jurgen. She would think I was crazy. I hardly speak to my sister any more anyway. Jurgen does not approve of her. None of my friends know about Jurgen and he does not like me seeing them. He says they are bad influences and he intends to be the unchallenged influence in my life. He has not introduced me to any of his friends, either. Jurgen says it does not really matter what other people think, but it does bother me. I am definitely conflicted about all this. Sometimes I feel guilty for liking it so much, but I cannot help myself. At first I was ashamed of myself after the thrill of the moment wore off. I felt sick to my stomach and I tried to stay away from Jurgen. There were times when he had me tied up so I could not move and he dripped hot wax down my spine I vowed to myself that when I got loose I would never go back to him again. I found out I could not stay away more than a day or two and I went back to him, literally on my knees, more submissive than before. I need him way too much and he knows it. Jurgen is incredibly possessive and always watching me, making me account for every second I am out of his sight. He always wants to know every detail when a man has hit on me and from the beginning he insisted I confess every detail of my sex life. Jurgen tells me I am allowed no secrets and no privacy in our relationship. It is not that he is afraid I might cheat on him. He likes it when a man is interested in me. In bed he talks about having me fuck one man or another. He likes controlling my sex life and tells me he is going to pick a man for me to fuck, maybe tonight at The Vault. Sometimes I feel like a real life doll for Jurgen to play with. Jurgen has strict rules for me to live by. He is into elaborate rituals. He expects me to take care of his clothing and polish his shoes every night. He has me writing a journal for him and I can only read the books he assigns me, books like the Story of O, which he has had me read three times already. He decides what I wear and when I can wear a bra to work. He even tells me how to sit and hold myself. When he is sitting in his big chair he likes me to kneel on the floor at his feet and rest my head against his leg, and he will stroke my hair, just like I was his dog. When we first met I had really long brown hair. I have worn my hair long all my life. It cascaded over my shoulders and down the small of my back. Men always loved my long hair and it was a part of my identity for as long as I can remember. I was always "Julie with the long brown hair" to people I met. I spent my life brushing my hair out and worrying about split ends. I knew my hair was beautiful and it always gave me a sense of confidence. Jurgen liked the way I tossed my hair when I turned my head. He liked to go jogging with me because he liked the way my pony tail swung back and forth when I ran. Jurgen loved my hair long and loved to play with it. I would kneel down at his feet and he would brush my hair in front of the fireplace. It was so romantic. He would wrap my hair around and around his hand, then pull my head back so he could kiss me. Sometimes I would lean over him in bed and sensually graze my hair up and down his body. Two weeks ago he made me sit still while he cut my ponytail off. My own mother would not recognize me now! He says I look like Audrey Hepburn with my hair so short. He says short hair emphasizes my big green eyes, my cheekbones and my pouty lower lip. He has my severed ponytail hanging from his bedpost like a trophy. I have to look at it everytime he makes love to me in that room. He said he was just taking what was his to begin with. He has a special affinity for my nipples. They are delicate and dime sized, the color of pennies. He has made it an art to hurt them. He is always pinching and twisting then between his fingers. He has a set of metal clamps that he had used on his girlfriends before me, but they had bigger nipples and he has a frustrating time keeping them on me. He pinches them down tight so that my nipples burn so I did not think I could not stand it another minute, but with my wrists tiedd behind my back or over my head, there was nothing I could do to relieve the pain and Jurgen would twist the clamps and renew the burning pain. If he leaves them on long enough I feel no pain after awhile and wear them like jewelry, but when he takes them off I am in tears because of the intense pain from the blood flowing back into my crushed nipple. It is something he is an expert at. He has pretty much trained my body to orgasm with nipple pain. I worry he is ruining me for normal relationships, but I hope this relationship lasts forever. I think that is part of controlling me, making me so I can only respond to him. My nipples are his favorite target. When I go to work he likes me to wear little pieces of sandpaper in my bra so the abrasiveness rubs constantly against my delicate nipples all day long until I am in agony. The burning gets almost intolerable, so that I am biting my lip, distracted and near tears at work. At times it feels like I am bleeding, but I never have. It is his way of making sure I think of him all the time. It does get my attention. He likes to make me masturbate myself in front of him. Masturbating has been a deeply private thing for me. It is hard for me to do that while he watches. I feel so ashamed. It is humiliating, deliciously humiliating. He sometimes calls me at night and orders me to take the phone into bed and masturbate myself to his comands while he listens. He tells me he considers masturbating to be adultery and I am only allowed to do that when he specifically tells me to. He says my cunt is his "property" and no one can use it without his permission, not even me. I have to ask permission! He told me that he might have me lie on a couch at The vault and pull up my pink skirt and masturbate in front of a bunch of leering strangers. I know he has done all these things with other women before me and he is comparing me to them. That is part of my motivation to do anything he wants. I want to be so special for him. Jurgen is always talking about getting me branded and tattooed. He thinks an elaborate tattoo on my shoulder or on the back of my neck or maybe down at the small of my back would be distinctive. Whatever he does to mark me, he wants it to be elaborate and distinctive. There will be no rose tattoo on my ankle! He sometimes traces a cursive J with his finger on on my lower abdomen and talks about branding his initials on me. He frequently talks about piercing me. In bed he has me raise my knees up so he can examine me. Jurgen spreads me open with his fingers and talks about how he intends to pierce my labia so he can attach little bells that will jingle when I walk. That does get me so wet. He talks about piercing my clit, but it is so tiny I am afraid it would be destroyed by a needle. I am not sure if he really wants to. I think maybe it is just enough that I am willing. He has told me how it would be done and what it would look like. He likes my nest of soft, fluffy pubic hair, but he says told me he will shave me there soon. He tells me to pack a bottle of baby oil and a razor in my purse because he may invite a stranger to shave me at The Vault. I imagine my vagina shaved and pierced with a little bell between my legs and I must confess it is exciting. If I let him know I am afraid of being branded or pierced, I am sure he would do it. I imagine he will pierce my little nipples soon enough. * * * Jurgen walks around me. He has his riding crop in one hand and my collar in the other. He prods me in the ribs with the riding crop, pokes at my breasts through the delicate fabric of the blouse. Jurgen approves of the way I look, especially with the sheer blouse showing off my bare breasts. Of course I am not wearing the bra. There was never any doubt that Jurgen would get his way. My desire to wear a bra merely gave him another opportunity to impose his will on me. Going braless is my opportunity to please him. I am never allowed to put the dog collar on myself. It is one of his rules. Jurgen insists I stand before him with my face raised to expose my throat so he can put the collar around my neck. I hold still, reveling in the submissive sensation of the moment. It is an intimacy few women ever share with their man. He is close to me and I take a deep breath, inhaling his Polo cologne. Jurgen tightens my collar one notch past what would be comfortable. He wants me to be very aware of the collar compressing my throat all night long. I will be very sensitive to any tug on my leash. He tells me about The Vault. He tells me about the rooms, about the kind of people I will see. He says he might leave me alone to see if anyone is interested in me. I know he would get off on that, especially if he can watch. He takes the riding crop and catches the hem of my short skirt, raising it to reveal my naked vagina. He tells me to lift my skirt in my hands. I do, exposing myself for him. I watch wide-eyed as he brings his hand back, then smacks the riding crop against my legs, laying down a red stripe across my thigh and making me wince. I am always amazed at how such a small whack of that riding crop can hurt so much. When we get to The Vault he says he will have me entertain everyone by undressing for them, then he will have me place my hands against the wall and he will whip me in front of strangers. He says he will stripe me so I look like a zebra. He says he may invite a stranger to do the honors. He says someone may even buy me. If he decides to sell me, he says he does not want to hear any bitching from me. He asks if I have a problem with that. I tell him I don't, but I am scared. The END
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