MidReal Story
Forbidden Desires: A BDSM Love Story
Scenario: BDSM tuning classroom, A pretty girl is S and a handsome boy is M, they had a wonderful story
Create my version of this story
I’m a sadist.
But I ended up in this tuning classroom.
This is a place for masochists and submissives, where they can come and find the right partner for them.
One doesn’t necessarily have to be a masochist or a submissive to be here, but it’s rare to see a dominant or sadist in a place like this.
There are already many couples in the process of tuning.
The boys are holding their own whips and floggers, while the girls are tied to crosses or benches.
I’ve been watching them for a while now and I haven’t felt anything, which is weird.
I know I’m not supposed to feel anything when I’m watching boy as a sadist, but it’s different when I see them in person.
Sometimes I even get hard just by looking at them.
But not today.
Maybe I’ve made a mistake registering for this class.
I’ve been standing next to the door for a few minutes, trying to gather my thoughts, when I see him.
He’s very handsome, with his piercing blue eyes and a confident smile on his face.
He looks like he belongs here, even though he doesn’t have anyone with him.
I take a deep breath, trying to stay focused.
He may look hot, but that doesn’t mean he’s strong enough to handle me as a domme, as much as I want to believe it.
I have to try not to look at him, since it’s obvious that he’s going to be here for a while.
Instead, I watch the people who are still tuning around us.
The boys are using their floggers or whips on their partners’ skin, leaving red marks behind them, while the girls are moaning or screaming in pain and pleasure.
It’s starting to get boring now, so I decide to look around one last time before leaving this place forever.
But before I can do that, I see him again.
He’s not doing anything special, other than looking straight at me.
And now I can feel it—he’s looking at me with a dominant gaze.
My heart starts pounding loudly in my chest, making me stiffen a little bit.
This has never happened to me before—just because someone is looking at me with such a gaze doesn’t mean he can control me or that I’ll submit easily.
“Shit,” I curse to myself.
I’ve lost my focus.
I’ve lost control over my body and my reactions.
And that’s something I never wanted to happen.
But I’m not going to let it continue.
Taking a deep breath, I force myself to relax and put my mask back on.
I’m not going to let him or anyone else see me like this.
I’m not going to give anyone power over me.
I’m not going to submit to anyone.
And, most importantly, I’m not going to show him what he wants from me.
I can feel his gaze on me, but I’m refusing to turn around and look at him.
Instead, I’m leaving the room, but not just because I need some fresh air.
I need to calm down, so I decide to go to the bathroom for a while.
Once there, I splash some water on my face and take another deep breath, trying to clear my mind and regain my composure.
I can do this.
I’ve never felt like this before, but I know it’s because of him.
I thought I knew who I was and what I wanted, but he’s made me question everything about myself.
I don’t know how he did it or why he did it, but he did it.
It doesn’t matter anymore.
What matters now is that I have to put my mask back on and act like myself again—if I ever acted like myself at all…
When I return to the tuning classroom, the instructor is already giving out instructions for the rest of the class.
We have to watch her give orders to her submissives, then we have to do the same with our own partners.
I try not to look at him when I walk past him, but it’s impossible—I just can’t ignore him.
Maybe it’s because he’s so handsome or because he’s so confident or because he’s so dominant or because he’s so strong, but it doesn’t matter because I can’t stop looking at him.
And what does that mean?
That I’m not a sadist?
I’ve been with many masochists and submissives before.
I’ve had them on their knees, begging for more.
But none of them has ever affected me like he does.
None of them has ever made me want to be on my knees in front of him.
None of them has ever made me want to be his submissive.
So, maybe I’m not a sadist.
Maybe I’m not even a domme.
Maybe I’m just someone who likes to play and have fun between the sheets—someone who likes to be in control most of the time and someone who likes to be submissive when the right person comes along.
But there isn’t anyone like that in my life at the moment.
So why am I feeling like this now?
It doesn’t make sense!
I try to stop looking at him when I sit down next to him on the floor, but I can’t.
I have to take another peek before I can concentrate on the instructor and her submissives again.
But that’s when I see that he’s been watching me all this time.
I panic for a moment and quickly look away from him.
But it only takes me a few seconds to realize that he was looking at me because I was looking at him.
And now I get it.
It wasn’t his gaze that made me feel the way I did—it was mine all along.
I don’t know how or why it happened, but it did happen and now I know what I have to do.
Instead of looking at him, I’ll just ignore him instead.
I won’t let him see how much power he has over me or how easily I can submit to him.
However, as much as I want to avoid looking at him, I find it impossible to concentrate on the instructor when he’s sitting right next to me on the floor.
The way he’s looking at her and how he’s listening to her every word is driving me insane.
It’s making me feel even smaller and more insignificant than before.
And now I have no choice but to look at him again.
He watches me with a grin on his face as he places a hand on my thigh and guides it toward the bag on my right side.
I have no idea what he’s doing or what he wants me to do, but it seems like he’s trying to help me.
However, I can’t let him help me!
I have to prove to myself that I can do this alone and without any help from him or anyone else for that matter.
So instead of allowing him to guide me and show me what to do, I take my thigh away from him and place it on the bag on my own instead.
He lets me do it, but only because he wants me to help me—because he knows that I can’t help myself and that I need his help instead!
And he’s right, too!
Once my thigh is on the bag on my right side, my left thigh automatically moves onto the bag on my left side as well.
There’s no stopping it now!
My thighs are on the bags and there’s nothing I can do about it!
He places both of his hands on my waist and uses them to move my body toward the bags even further than it is already.
I try to stop him by standing up straight and retracting my body away from him a little bit—but he won’t let me!
He holds onto my waist even tighter than before and forces me to bend forward and press my breasts against the bags like everyone else’s already are—while all the time keeping his eyes locked onto mine and maintaining perfect eye contact with me as well.
And that’s when it happens!
My knees automatically drop down and rest against the floor like everyone else’s already are too—and now I’m on my knees just like everyone else is too!
But why did this happen?
Why did it happen just like that?
Why did it happen so easily?
I don’t understand any of this at all!
I have never felt like this before!
I have never wanted to be like this before!
He moves my body even further forward and uses his hands to press my breasts against the bags even more than they were already.
He holds my body there for a moment after the instructor tells us to wait, and then he finally releases me after a few seconds.
He stands up, but he doesn’t help me up like he’s helped everyone else up so far.
Instead, he places both of his hands on my upper arms and uses them to pull me up and off the floor.
I fall into him when he does, and he wraps one arm around my back and uses his other hand to lift my chin up and make me look at him as well.
“You’re not very good at following orders, are you?”
he asks, using a stern voice as he does so.
“I thought you were a dominant, not a submissive,”
“I am a dominant,”
he says, keeping his eyes locked onto mine and maintaining perfect eye contact with me too.
“But you’re not a very good one,”
His words are like a slap in the face!
How can he say that?
How can he think that?
How can he feel that?
How can he know that?
I’m not a submissive!
I’m a dominant!
I’m the dominant!
I can’t be a submissive right now!
I can’t be a submissive ever!
It’s just not possible!
It’s just not who I am at all!
It’s just not who I’ve ever been either!
I don’t understand why he thinks it is or how he knows it is!
And there’s no way that he’s right either!
There’s no way that it’s true!
There’s no way that it’s who I am!
So why would he say that?
Why would he think that?
Why would he feel that?
Why would he know that?
It just doesn’t make any sense at all!
It just doesn’t add up in any way!
“You’re wrong!”
I say, fighting back against him with everything I’ve got.
“I am a dominant—”
“—and you’re a submissive!”
he says, interrupting me as if he knew what I was going to say anyway.
I don’t understand what’s happening at all.
He told me to sit and now he’s telling me to stand.
He told me to sit and I did.
He told me to stand and I argued.
He told me to sit and now he’s telling me to stand.
He told me to sit and then he told me to stand.
He told me to sit and then he told me to stand.
He told me to sit and then he told me to stand.
He told me to sit and then he told me to stand.
He told me to sit and then he told me to stand.
I don’t know why this is important.
I don’t know why it matters.
I don’t know why anyone cares.
I don’t know why everyone’s looking at me like this.
I don’t know why everyone’s judging me like this.
I don’t know why everyone can’t stop talking about it either.
But they’re not!
They can’t!
And they won’t!
“No,”
I say, shaking my head from side to side as well.
“No, no, no!”
The girl on my right side turns her head toward us and watches us for a moment before she finally opens her mouth and speaks as well.
“Don’t talk back to him,”
she says, addressing me with a cold voice when she does too.
“Just do what you’re told.”
I’m not sure what she means by that, but the instructor is watching us too—and so are many of the other girls on my left side as well.
“Nobody ever talks back to him,”
the instructor says as she walks toward us from the other side of the room.
“Nobody ever disobeys him either.”
I’m not sure what she means by that either, but before I have time to think about it more, Michael tells me to stand again.
And when I shake my head from side to side once more and refuse again too, he doesn’t say anything else—because he doesn’t have to.
Instead, he just tightens his grip on my waist even more and pulls me out of my chair himself.
Then, before I can even blink, he pushes me back down into it again too—and then right back up on my feet once more too.
And then down again too—and then right back up once more as well.
And then down again too—and then right back up once more too.
And then down again too—and then right back up once more as well.
And then down again too—and then right back up once more too.
And then down again too—and then right back up once more as well.
And then down again too—and then right back up once more too.
And then down again too—and then right back up once more as well.
And then down again too—and then right back up once more too.
I’m not sure how long it goes on for.
I’m not even sure how many times he made me do it.
I just know that when it finally ends, he’s still holding onto my waist like he was before.
And he still hasn’t said anything else either.
And he still doesn’t look happy.
But when I look back up at him anyway and open my mouth to speak again, he finally opens his mouth and speaks for the first time in what feels like forever too.
“I told you not to do that,”
he says, looking down at me with a cold voice too.
“I told you not to talk back.”
“But you weren’t telling me to do anything else,”
I say back instead.
“I was just following your other instructions.”
“Is there a reason you can’t stop talking?”
he asks me instead of answering my question—and then he tightens his grip on my waist even more too.
“Is there a reason you can’t stop being disobedient?”
“No, sir,”
I say, shaking my head from side to side.
“There isn’t.”
“Then don’t do it again,”
he tells me sternly.
“Don’t ever do it again.”
He looks like he’s serious when he says that too—because he is.
And for some reason, the thought of it makes me feel strangely exhilarated and scared both at the same time as well.
When the instructor finally comes over and pulls another chair up next to ours and tells another girl—along with her dominant partner—to come over and take their seats there too, I’m so relieved that the whole thing is finally over that I don’t even blink an eye at it.
But then I realize that it’s not really over at all.
Because now I can feel his hands still holding onto my waist even tighter than they were before.
And now I can feel his eyes still boring into my own too.
And now I can see his lips barely moving as he leans down closer towards me and speaks again too.
“Now you’re going to tell me what your name is,”
he says instead.
“You’re going to tell me what your real name is right now.
And then you’re going to tell me what your number is as well.
Do you understand?”
“But you didn’t say anything about that before,”
I try saying back again.
“You didn’t tell me that I had to do that too.”
I know that I’m being stupid and childish by saying that—and by basically talking back to him all over again too.
But I can’t help it either.
It’s just who I am.
It’s just what I do.
I’m just fighting his control by making excuses—and by questioning his authority—every step of the way instead.
“That’s because you’re not paying attention,”
he tells me like he’s getting annoyed with me all over again too.
“And it’s also because you’re being very disobedient too.
“Now tell me your name,”
he says as he tightens his grip on my waist even more and starts shaking it from side to side like he’s punishing it for being bad.
He wants me to call him sir—and I know that he does.
But I still don’t want to do it either.
And even though I know that I have no real choice in it at all either, I try to fight it anyway as I shake my head from side to side and look away from him again too.
But then another moment later, all of a sudden he grabs onto my chin and yanks it back towards him—and then his other hand grabs onto my waist too and pulls my body backwards towards his with an iron grip as well as he leans in closer towards me too.
“Now you’re going to look at me when I’m talking to you,”
he says as soon as our eyes finally meet each other again.
“And you’re going to call me sir every time you speak too—otherwise you’re going to be in trouble.”
“But I don’t want to call you sir,”
I tell him back as I shake my head from side to side too.
“You have no choice in the matter,”
he tells me instead.
And then he takes another deep breath before he says it all over again too.
“Now tell me your name.”“Now you’re going to look at me when I’m talking to you,”
“And you’re going to call me sir every time you speak too—otherwise you’re going to be in trouble.”This time I just nod my head in agreement as I look back into his eyes too.
I don’t even try to resist him anymore because I know that there’s no point in it either—even if I don’t want to call him sir at all.
But then when I don’t answer him, he tightens his grip on my chin even more though and then he nods his head too and says it all over again too.
“I said what’s your name?”
he asks me as he starts shaking my chin from side to side too.
There’s only one answer that he wants too—and he’s not going to stop until I give it to him either.
Once more I try not to answer him so that he will stop shaking my face like this—but I can already tell that it’s a losing battle even before it’s even begun too.
All of a sudden the grip on my chin tightens even more than it was before as well though—and now it’s starting to hurt even more than it was just a moment ago too.
But then in the very next second he pulls my body up away from him by my chin too—and then he leans down towards me and presses his lips against mine without any warning at all either.
So now we’re making out together in the middle of this classroom even though we’ve only just met each other less than five minutes ago now?
All of a sudden he breaks our kiss off before he starts kissing me along my jawline instead.
His lips are soft against my skin but they’re also firm at the same time as well too—and they feel so good against my skin right now too.
But then another moment later he pulls away from me altogether before he uses his other hand to press against my neck and push my down onto my knees in front of him instead.
And once more I’m so stunned by what he’s doing that I follow along with him without even thinking about it at all instead either.
And then he tightens his grip around the back of my neck too and uses that to guide me towards him as well as he starts to pull the front of my body closer towards him as well too.
So now I’m standing up again and looking up at him as well—except this time it’s not because I want to anymore either.
And once more he takes another deep breath before he starts talking to me too as well too.
“Hello, please tell me your name?”
he asks me again too as the grip around the back of my neck tightens even more as well too.
And then once again it all starts all over again too as well too—except this time I already know what the answer is as well too.
“Please call me Sir,”
he tells me as soon as we finish telling each other our names too as well too.
