Page 2 of Testing the Submissive

“Did it take her long to cum?”

“Not at all. Her strap-on worked like a charm. Every time she plunged into me, I could hear her moan, and I knew the special part of the dildo was serving its purpose, stimulating her clit.”

“What about you?”

I paused. But I knew the truth must be told, “I came too, Sir.”

“Filthy fucking cunt.”

“I’m sorry, Sir. Although I assure you, Ms. Donovan didn’t mind. Not at all. In fact, I genuinely believe she was quite pleased that my orgasm hit on the heels of hers. We just about came at the same time.”

“What makes you think she was pleased?”

“She taunted me about it, but in a good way. She called me her little fuck-toy, and boasted that since I seemed to be enjoying myself so much, she’d beat me even more the next time.”

“Was that her only orgasm?”

“No, Sir. She had two more.”

“The same way?”

“No. The other two did not involve the strap-on, which she removed right after fucking me. She made me lay on my back, on the floor, and she spun around, literally sitting on my face, facing my body. Her shins pinned my shoulders down, and she started to grind her very-wet pussy all over my mouth. In no time at all, she began to spasm and then orgasm.”

“Then what?”

“She caught her breath by resting a while.”

“You rested as well?”

“I did, although I can’t say it was easy to catch my breath”, I jokingly remarked, “my mouth was still completely covered by her wet pussy, and I didn’t want to make any audible gasps, in order to not disturb the Mistress. Best I could, I took my breaths quietly, through my nose, whenever it wasn’t fully buried between the cheeks of her ass.”

“How did you feel in that moment?”

“I felt an inner peace, Sir. My body was still stinging from the whipping, yet I felt content that I was able to bring sexual pleasure to Ms. Donovan. I was happy simply that she seemed happy.”

“That type of sentiment is indicative of a true submissive.”

“I realize that Sir, and I agree. In that very moment I remember feeling proud. I didn’t dare speak, but if I had I would have told her she could beat me, hurt me, use me, anything – I didn’t care, I just wanted to be at her disposal. “

“Did she say anything during her respite?”

“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.”

CHAPTER 4: A DREAM

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.

In the dream we were in some kind of log cabin up in the mountains. I was lying on a bed, and he was approaching me, with a pair of handcuffs.

“There’s a bad storm coming…” he said.

I didn’t say a word, but put my wrists together so that he might cuff them.

“No,” he continued, instead taking my left wrist and cuffing it to the one bed post. He took my right wrist and did the same thing to the other bed post.

I was about to say, “Will you whip me?” but before I could do so, we could both hear the sound of a freight train approaching. The most powerful wind I’d ever seen began to envelop the room. As is surreal in dreams, everything inside the cabin started swirling and flying around. I could see through the windows that the same thing was happening outside. Trees and objects, massive rocks, including all sorts of debris were flying around. Then it dawned on

me what was happening.

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