Testing the Submissive(5)

By: Al Daltrey

“She mumbled a bit, ‘sooo good’, she softly whispered as if speaking to herself, and ‘lovely just lovely’, things like that. I smiled right into her pussy lips.”

“You said she had three orgasms, how did the third occur?”

“After the second one she led me by hand to the couch, where we cuddled under a big comforter, and with the TV on in the background, we kissed and made small talk. She fell asleep with both her arms and a leg wrapped around me. I was careful not to stir, and an hour later she awakened. She pushed my shoulders lower, and I understood her command.”

“How long did it take the marks to fade from your body?”

“There are still a few remnants remaining, but 90% of the marks are gone. What little is left is barely visible.”

“Did you have sex with anyone during the past week?”

“No, of course not, Sir. My intention is to abstain from sex, other than in the appointments arranged by you.”

“Did you masturbate?”

I hesitated, slightly embarrassed by the question, “Yes Sir, I must admit, I masturbated quite often.”

“How often? Tell me.”

“At least two or three times per day, I think I came five times on one particular day.”

“Did you use a vibrator, or some sort of toy, or your fingers?”

“Most often my fingers, Sir.”

“What were you thinking about while your fingers were busy?”

“I would close my eyes and remember various moments of my time with Ms. Donovan, replaying them in my mind over and over.”

“Give me an example of one such moment.”

“At one point Ms. Donavan was using a long riding crop on my shoulders. One lash wasn’t delivered properly, and the end of the whip curled underneath my armpit, with the very tip cutting into the underside of my right breast.”

“You enjoyed the pain?”

“Not when it happened! I hated it. It was beyond my pain threshold. I glanced down fearful that she had actually broken the skin, that’s how bad it hurt.”

“If you didn’t enjoy it, why masturbate to it?”

“That’s just it, Sir. I can’t explain it. When it happened the pain was not pleasurable. But when I remember it, when I think about it now – God, it’s so hot. Anytime I envision her whip striking my body, I feel a tingle in my pussy, and I want to touch myself.”

“Give me another example.”

“When she sat on my face, after her second orgasm, the recollection of her soaking wet cunt mashed all over my mouth and lips. At one point, she reached down and started to pull and twist my nipples tormenting me further.”

“You enjoy that memory.”

“I love it, Sir. My cheeks were slimy with her juices, and I can still remember her musky smell. Plus, I find it hot that she was simply sitting there, casually oblivious to my discomfort.”

“Is it arousing you now, telling me all of this?”

Again, I hesitated, “yes…yes it is.”

“Will you masturbate when you get home, after our interview?”

“I’m sure I will. Knowing me, I’ll likely start in the cab ride home, rubbing myself through my jeans, as long as I can do so discreetly, without the driver noticing.”

“You are nothing but a fucking whore.”

“I know, Sir. I’m certain that I am. I’m sorry for being what I am.”

“No need to apologize for being what you are, you’re the one who’s going to suffer for it. I’ve arranged your next appointment, unless of course you no longer wish to continue with our arrangement?”

“I’m ready for my next appointment, Sir. Ready and willing.”

“Good. You will visit a man by the name of Grekko. He will introduce you to his thick rubber strap. He can only afford $1,500 so your portion will be $1,050. Not as lucrative as the previous one, but it will be just as painful, if not more.”

“I understand, Sir. I’ll be prepared.”

“Then it’s set. I will email you the details once finalized, but it will be in about a week at his farmhouse. I will give him six hours with you.”


Three days later, in the midst of a dream…

Lewis appeared to me in a dream. He was as handsome in my reverie as he was in reality. With his rugged good looks, not the pretty-boy looks of a Brad Pitt or a Bradley Cooper; but more like Russell Crowe. He was a good four or five inches taller than me, so I’d say just over 6 feet. He kept his hair short. In fact, his thick dark hair was near perfect, just falling over his forehead with a slight wave to it. Lewis had a definite charisma, or presence, or gravitas – whatever you want to call it. Point is, when he spoke everyone within earshot wanted to hear his every word.

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