• Home
  • /
  • Stories Hub
  • /
  • BDSM
  • /
  • Trust and Submission

Trust and Submission

12

It was early morning on the last day of November and j was hurrying to finish packing. She was giggling at the amount of luggage she would be bringing-- other than what she had on, the rest of the clothes she would pack could fit in her purse but her Master had commanded her to bring all of the toys, and although not very bulky, they did take up space. She paused to check a mental list—had she remembered everything?? OH! She almost forgotten the Sybian! THAT oversight would have earned her more strokes of the cane than she cared to think about! j grabbed the bag of Sybian accessories and another duffle bag. On second thought, she put the duffle bag back and pulled down a small hardcase with wheels. The Sybian was heavy, not to mention bulky and awkward, with oddly-shaped corners. The machine, the padded bench, and the accessory bag could just fit into the rolling case. j stood back to observe the small pile of luggage with satisfaction.

She hurried downstairs to load everything into the car, barely watching where she was going as she practically floated to the driveway. Her head was filled with anticipatory images of herself, the Sybian, and her beloved Master's hands on the controls... she knew that her Master planned to have her ride it to exhaustion, controlling her pleasure and forcing her orgasms until she blacked out. j loved to perform for her Master, to be His toy and respond to His control, to please Him with her obedience and the demonstration of her complete submission to His total ownership of her but she much preferred for her Master to make her cum by using her Himself; her own satisfaction deep-seated in the knowledge that He was taking His pleasure from her, using her as an object for His own sexual release, controlling her directly and completely through His touch and physical possession of her body. Nevertheless she obeyed Him and packed the car as ordered. At last she was ready to leave.

As directed, she was wearing a transparent black bra under a sheer white midi blouse that tied at her waist, a black mini skirt (the slits on both sides gave tantalizing glimpses of the slave marks on her left thigh) and black high-heeled pumps that her Master called "slut shoes" (j preferred to think of them as her CFM shoes, the chick term she and her subby friends used), and of course no panties. In fact, the bra was the only underwear she was allowed to bring with her. Very early in her submission Mr. B had ordered her never again to wear panties in His presence and she knew better than to disobey. Furthermore, He had informed her that she would need no other underclothes once she arrived. She shivered in anticipation (and leaned over to turn on the heat—it hadn't occurred to her how chilly a mini-skirt in November would be!) The drive to meet Master at His summer cabin would take a few hours. She followed His emailed directions, stopping only once or twice to refuel, and by early afternoon she was pulling into the driveway of a large cabin tucked into the foothills of Beckley, West Virginia.

Not knowing what He had in store for her left her fearful as well as excited, but disobeying Him was never an option. She went over her mental checklist a final time to make sure she hadn't forgotten anything He had ordered her to do. As she turned the engine off, the cabin door opened and her Master stood in the doorway, clearly waiting for her. Leaving everything in the car and forgetting even to close the door in her haste to fall at His feet, she ran to Him. He stepped back as she drew near; following Him into the cabin, she dropped to her knees and crawled to Him, alternately hugging His legs and kissing His feet. She stayed in her position of obeisance on the floor before Him, the door still ajar, not even caring if anyone saw her but wishing with all her heart that she could have knelt to Him in sight of the world and that she had the right to show anyone and everyone her pride in His ownership and her elation in his presence.

"Hello, j," he said, his deep voice caressing her ears and releasing a cloud of butterflies to flutter in her belly.

"Hello, Master!" she responded, joyfully clinging to His leg.

"Present yourself to Me!" he demanded.

She rose to her feet and stood before Him, arms relaxed at her sides, palms forward in submission, thighs and lips open in the posture of total surrender. His eyes smoldering with tightly controlled emotion, her Master reached out with His left hand and grabbed her by the hair, pulling her close to Him. She staggered slightly, then melted into His grasp. He held her tightly to Him, her cheek pressed firmly against His chest, the rapid beat of His heart in her ear. The essence of His hair, His skin, His sweet warm breath, and His favorite (tasteful and expensive) cologne combined to create the wonderful scent that was uniquely His and j deeply, greedily, euphorically inhaled. Mr. B turned her face to His with His hand still twisted into her hair, and ordered her to exhale. The moment she obeyed, He claimed her lips with His own, plunged His tongue into her mouth, and exhaled into her mouth filling her lungs with His breath. Again, j greedily inhaled, sucking His tongue even deeper into her throat, clasped to Him as if that mating of mouths were life itself. His right hand lifted her short skirt; His middle finger, thick and strong, cleft her pussy lips and ever so gently pressed its way deep inside her. She stood in the doorway, secured by her hair, back arched, arms helplessly at her sides, her mouth filled with her Master's tongue and her pussy impaled on His finger, in a posture of total surrender, not caring if anyone was inside or outside the house, or if anyone could even see her. Her senses were full of her Master; there was no room for anything or anyone else in her world.

By the time He released her, her juices were flowing freely over His fingers and her legs were trembling with strain. At last He broke the kiss. His eyes were smoky and His eyelids half shut as He pulled His fingers away from her pussy, put them into His mouth, and sucked on them. Then He drove His tongue into her mouth again, forcing her to taste herself on His lips and tongue. She had never been able to bear her own taste before submitting to Mr.B, but her Master had told her that He enjoyed her taste and He expected her to do so as well. Somehow knowing that He demanded and expected it made a difference; she obediently sucked His tongue and licked her own liquids from His lips.

Mr. B's voice was husky as He pulled away from her and said sternly,

"Now greet M. Henri properly."

Relieved at the chance to kneel and rest her trembling legs, and always eager to pay homage to Master's beautiful cock, M.Henri. She obediently dropped to her knees and gently unzipped His jeans. With loving hands she gently lifted His semi-turgid, long and heavy cock from beneath the waistband of His boxer briefs (even Master's underwear was sexy!). She wished she could take the time to tease and gently play with the silky smooth foreskin, and dip her tongue into the twinkling eye on the tip, but this ritual was formal and strict. So she gently, firmly sucked the head into her mouth, caressing Him with her tongue, enjoying the sweet, faintly salty taste of His skin as His incredible cock slowly slid deeper and deeper into her mouth until the tip was pressing against the back of her throat.

j knew that Master had always wanted her to deep throat Him, but as much as she tried, she had only been able to open her throat wide enough one time, and she had never been able to do it without coughing uncontrollably. Her asthma kept her from drawing a deep breath or holding what breath she had very long. j didn't think Mr. B realized that she felt as badly about it as she did. She wanted to be able to hold Him in her throat, to be able to take Him as deeply as He could drive, to have Him fuck her throat the way He fucked her pussy. She wanted Him to be able to use her without having to be careful of her. So far she still not been able to overcome her gag reflex.

j gazed up at Master with tears in her eyes, and He grabbed the back of her head and pulled it savagely to Him, embedding His large cock in her throat. She gagged but He held her there and even though she couldn't breathe and her instinct was to pull her head away, she fought the feeling and let Him hold her, knowing that He knew how long she could handle it. When it seemed she would pass out from lack of oxygen, He released her and pulled His cock from her throat. j gasped for air as her saliva poured out of her mouth and down her chin. She wasn't quick enough to stop some of it from dripping onto the floor. She apologized to her Master for failing again, for making a mess, and not being able to take Him all the way into her throat. He ignored her and ordered her to replace the idol of her sexual satisfaction back into His pants, zip them up and go back to the car to retrieve her luggage. j hurried to obey.

Fifteen minutes later, she had finished unloading the car and her Master had closed the door, stripped her naked, and placed her clothes in the closet.

"You will have no need for any clothes for the rest of this weekend," He told her.

She was startled at the unfamiliar, stentorian tone of His voice. Then He began discussing dinner plans as if nothing had happened. j decided she must be imagining things.

Two hours later, they had finished eating and had moved to sofa near the large bay window to enjoy the sunset. As the sun dropped lower in the sky and the house slowly faded into shadow, j sank to the floor at her Master's feet, laid her head on His knee, and wrapped her arms around His legs as she leaned against Him, shivering slightly in her nakedness. Mr. B sipped from a goblet of Merlot in one hand, and stroked her hair softly with the other. j's heart was full as she basked in her Master's presence and reveled in the feeling of being totally under His control. With her heart in her throat, she scraped up enough courage to murmur to Him, softly, how much she had missed His discipline and use, begging Him to use her thoroughly, and asking Him please to mark her again, deeply, so well that when she went home she would feel His marks and touch everywhere, for as long as possible.

Mr. B did not answer her, but continued to stroke her hair gently and she was content to sit quietly as the night crept through the entire house, its invasion unopposed by any lights inside the home. Occasionally, a car passed by, adding its sound to the other night sounds of birds and crickets.

Suddenly Mr. B stood up and said. "Come with me."

He walked to the door, opened it and stepped out and j followed him still totally naked. She stood, shivering in the chill, as He closed the door behind them and walked to His car. She followed obediently, goose bumps rising on her skin.

"Get in ," He said as He opened the door.

She slid into the seat, feeling the cold leather rubbing her skin and sticking to her lightly wherever she was damp. She shivered again, slightly. Mr. B started the car and they drove in silence for about fifteen minutes. He turned down a little-used county road and stopped when it came to a dead end in front of a large wooden house with brightly lit windows. He told j to get out.

She looked at Him in disbelief and stammered, "M-m-m-aste.. M-mm-aster..?"

"Quiet," He snapped and she shut up immediately.

He stepped out of the car and walked up the steps to the house and she followed, shaking uncontrollably now. As they approached, the front door, it opened as if by magic long before they reached it and Mr. B walked in without pausing. j following as slowly as she dared.

A voice from above their heads thundered,

"Hey, Mr. B! How goes it?"

"Hey, Jon! Everything's good," Mr. B replied.

Too frightened now to stay back, j trotted to catch up to Mr. B, and followed her Master closely as they passed into a spacious living room adorned with trophies and valuable artwork. From an open landing at the top of a wide flight of stairs a handsome older man was descending. The two men shook hands and embraced as j held herself very still and tried to be as inconspicuous as possible.

"So this is your j," Jon remarked, gazing at her appraisingly.

"Yeah, this is she, the best slave any Master could want."

j beamed at her Master's generous and unexpected praise and was able to relax enough to raise her eyes to the men. Jon was a big man, taller and bigger than her Master. He must have been about 6'6" and easily 275 lbs. j shivered as she looked at him.

"Evenin' j," his voice thundered.

"Good evening, Sir," j replied politely, startled by both the greeting and the voice, which was as big as he was.

As she glanced shyly at him she wondered if his cock was in proportion to the rest of him and then she smiled to herself at the wanton thought. Later she would find out that it was, but she was as yet oblivious to her fate. Jon closed the front door behind them and led the way down another stairway into his basement. It was a large basement, with walls, floor, and ceiling carpeted in black and framing a perfect, spacious, and obviously extremely well-equipped dungeon. Soft jazz percolated into the room, along with sounds of birds and crickets and blowing wind, but j could see no source. She stood barefooted on the carpet with her hands clasped in front of her as if to cover her bald pussy from view while Mr. B and Jon talked together in a far corner.

After a few minutes, they walked back to her. j looked up expectantly only to react in disbelief as Mr. B said,

"j, I am leaving you here with Jon. I want you to obey him fully, do everything that he says and I have also given him permission to use you as he pleases."

j trembled with fear.

"I will be back to get you tomorrow, "

"Yes, Master, " j whispered tremulously.

Mr. B turned and walked back up the stairs, followed by Jon. j watched their feet out of sight, then she heard the front door open and close. She heard her Master's car start and the sound of it pulling away and realized that her he had left her and she was now all alone.

Her lips trembled and then her legs gave out and she sank to her knees on the carpet. As her mind reeled, she kept saying to herself,

"I am not alone, my Master is with me always, I am not alone, I will trust Him and I know that He would never let any harm come to me."

From above she heard the thud of feet as Jon came down the stairs and walked back into the basement. That is the way that he found her, on her knees as if she were praying, hands clasped in front of her, trembling with fear.

===========================================

j was crying, silently—she couldn't help it, the tears rolled down her face without volition, although she made no noise. Jon walked softly around her (for such a big man, he could walk softly when he wanted to) and stood looking down at her.

"I'm not going to eat you, j. Stop crying."

"Yes, Sir," whispered.

j, tryed to stop the tears. She took a deep breath and held her shaking hands still.

"Is this the first time you've been given to someone else?" he asked her.

"Yes, Sir," she replied,

her voice a little steadier than before.

"Then I've been given a honor of which I wasn't aware," he murmured, almost to himself.

j clenched her hands on her knees.

"i know He trusts you, Sir," she replied, quietly but with conviction. "He's mentioned your name to me, before.." her voice trailed off as she realized he wasn't paying attention any longer. She turned her head to watch him as he moved to stand before a wall decorated with various whips, canes, floggers and other impact toys. He appeared lost in thought, but then he seemed to make a decision, and turned back toward j.

"Get up, little one, and come here."

j rose obediently, if a little shakily, and crossed the room to stand silently before him. Slowly her equilibrium was returning to her. After all, he seemed nice, and as he'd already said, it wasn't as though he was going to eat her!

"Choose a bench. You have 10 seconds to be on it, face down, in submission and prepared for binding."

j glanced somewhat frantically around the room. She had been too nervous to notice much detail up until this moment. There were several benches, all slightly different, scattered around the room. Different benches were at different heights, with varied coverings and shape configurations. A somewhat larger, leather-covered "whipping" bench caught her eye and she hurried over to it. The bench was wide enough that she knew she would be unlikely to fall off even if she lost awareness of her surroundings, and it looked softer and more thickly padded than most of the others. She was feeling a little less frightened, but she was still drawn to the comfortable and familiar. She scrambled onto the bench and lay face down, spreading her ankles and letting her arms dangle at her sides. She turned her right cheek to the bench so that she could watch Jon approach her from her left side. The leather warmed to her body almost instantly.

j was surprised to notice that Jon had shed his shoes at some point—his feet were bare, his toes broad and strong, his skin a warm toffee color. j chuckled at the sudden realization that all of her inner labels for skin tones related to foods. Usually sweet, sticky, decadent foods. She supposed a therapist could have fun with that fact. She startled as she realized Jon was speaking, and she had missed his first few words.

"... and hold still."

"yes Sir, i'm sorry, Sir, please tell me that again?" she asked him.

"I said, turn your face the other way, grasp the legs of the bench with your hands, and hold still, j. And that is the last command I expect to repeat. Do you understand?"

"yes, Sir!" she said shakily, and turned her head to the other side.

Jon stepped closer to the bench and j heard the rustle of silk or hemp rubbing along the edge of the bench. She was beginning to be familiar enough with the various types of ropes her Masters used that she could tell the difference between most of them just from the sound they made rubbing against each other. Hemp was her favorite, because it was so soft and not at all abrasive, as long as she didn't squirm.

j gasped as Jon seemed to bind her ankles in a single practiced movement, and realized she was letting her runaway thoughts distract her again... fortunately, Jon had not said anything else to her yet. He moved quietly and smoothly around the bench, tying first her ankles, then her left wrist, and approaching her right wrist last. j waited for him to confine her last limb but she waited in vain. He had stopped just out of her line of sight—she couldn't see him without moving her head and she knew better, from the tone of his earlier correction of her position, than to lift her head until he gave her permission to do so. She heard more rustling as of cloth softly passing over cloth, and then she startled, all but screaming as the long tails of a leather flogger stung her shoulder blades. For an instant she was terrified, and the next instant her body took over, responding to the familiarity of the flogger strokes, and she was sinking into the pain and feeling it shimmer into pleasure. Her eyes blurred over with red mist and liquid fire burned again between her legs.

j struggled for control—this was too easy, it shouldn't be so easy for him, she didn't want anyone but Mr. B to be able to elicit her body's responses so quickly. But the lashes fell again and again, and she slipped deeper into the pleasure with every stroke, until she was anticipating them and rising against her restraints in order to meet the blows. Until the blow that didn't fall. j came back to herself with the realization of the break in the rhythm; she waited for the next stroke, but it did not come. Then again she heard cloth against cloth and suddenly she realized Jon must be stripping. A moment later her guess was confirmed as he walked slowly around the bench, this time stopping full in her field of view. Without moving her head, that view included the portion of his body that began at his navel and ended with his knees. She sucked her breath at the sight of him; it was so strange, and frightening, and exciting to see a man who didn't own her, naked. And such a man! He merely stood, holding the flogger still at his side, and watched her watching him. Her eyes roamed over his skin, the warm toffee color of his feet repeated over a much broader expanse of belly and thighs, both well muscled and firm with only the littlest overlay of fat, the slight softening that enhances rather than detracts from an athletic build as the owner ages. j smiled and wished she could touch his skin, to see if it felt as silky as it looked. Mr. B had very little body hair but Jon had almost none; she wondered what it would be like to touch him.

12
  • Index
  • /
  • Home
  • /
  • Stories Hub
  • /
  • BDSM
  • /
  • Trust and Submission

All contents © Copyright 1996-2023. Literotica is a registered trademark.

Desktop versionT.O.S.PrivacyReport a ProblemSupport

Version ⁨1.0.2+795cd7d.adb84bd⁩

We are testing a new version of this page. It was made in 9 milliseconds