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  • Submission Ch. 03

Submission Ch. 03

123

N.B: Contains watersports.

*****

The appointment was made. Now I had to struggle through the week that followed like a drug addict desperate for a fix. I couldn't concentrate at work; my notebook filled with crude, adolescent sketches of her hips, her breasts, her pussy suspended over my face.

The evenings were the worst. Then there was nothing to distract me from the interminable waiting; I found my leg bouncing up and down in nervous anticipation of my next submissive treatment as the images of vapid television personalities played across my unfocused eyes.

Several times in the run up to that next appointment I found myself driving down her street. Sometimes I pulled up but left the engine running, gazing at the frosted glass of her front door, wondering what she was doing inside, what painful pleasure she was bestowing on some willing victim like myself. And I felt a pang of jealousy which had me flooring the accelerator and taking me to some bar where no one knew my name.

As I knocked back a bourbon and coke in the confines of a snug which muffled the moronic sound of twenty ignoramuses watching Arsenal V. Man U, I reflected on that strange jealousy. Solitude leads to strange psychoses and obsessions, I have found. One of them, in my case, is etymology.

Jealousy, now used ubiquitously as a substitute for the word 'envy' was originally quite distinct from it. A fear or anxiety over an expected or suspected loss of something close to one's heart.

Was she close to my heart? Yes, it was undeniable. She had opened the door to the living, breathing, sweating world of my fantasy. She had taken my hand (and cock) and led me to take my first steps on that yellow brick road and I knew that now I was irretrievably lost, unable to separate and compartmentalise that sordid world with the bleak reality of my lonely life of before.

But I couldn't be close to her heart. I was just another paying customer, no more significant than the last. How many nights a week did she indulge sad perverts like myself? How many fantasies did she so expertly realise? It was all an act, a performance on which she probably reflected and laughed whilst counting the coins. And yet, and yet...

That widening of the eyes when she regarded my manhood. Those arms draped around my shoulders. That fleeting kiss. That sweet voice which hinted at the real woman behind the mask, "Time to go back to the real world."

Was there any significance? Was I just hoping beyond any hope? How many men had sat in similar surroundings nursing these same thoughts, caught in her web?

I downed the last of my drink and left.

***

When I got home and clicked my on computer, a distraction before bed, I noticed a new email in my inbox. The ID was hers.

'Dear Slave,

Another visit so soon? Clearly you didn't learn your lesson well enough. Obviously, you need stricter instruction. When you visit, bring a change of clothes and an overnight bag. It'll cost extra but I think you need it.

Kiss,

Your Mistress.'

My eyes widened and I didn't realise I was holding my breath until I let it loose in an unconscious sigh of arousal. All night? Was that her plan? It wouldn't be any disruption; I had booked a Friday evening like last time; there was no need to get up and be anywhere the following day, but could I take her ministrations for such a long time? Of course I could. And I would. She was my mistress after all and I lived to serve.

***

It was raining heavily this time when I pulled up across from her abode. I cut the engine and clutched the handle of the leather overnight back sat in the passenger seat. I took a deep breath, steeling myself for the known/unknown of my immediate future, and pushed open the driver's door.

The rain fell in thick and heavy drops and I was near soaked by the time I stepped up to her front door and rang the bell. There is no awning over her entrance way and my hair began to be plastered to my forehead as I waited.

I saw her outline slowly approach and realised that she was keeping me waiting on purpose; the teasing torture had already begun. The lock clicked and the door swung open and I gasped involuntarily at the sight of my tormentor.

This time she was clad in the latex catsuit she wore on her homepage and it looked even more alluring in the flesh. The black rubber was polished to a shining finish and extended from neck to toe, clinging to her shapely figure like crude oil dripped over her gorgeous frame, accentuating every curve. A keyhole cut in the chest revealed her shapely cleavage and her black cherry hair hung loose, framing her porcelain face. A zip extended from the bottom rim of the keyhole down her front to disappear between her legs. Her lips were painted a dark wine red and her eyes were shadowed a charcoal black. A pair of long laced boots extended to her knees, the toes of which were a rounded, militaristic style which promised discipline and physical torment. In her hand hung once more the riding crop of before.

"Like what you see?" she purred from the doorway.

"Yes, mistress. You look beautiful... stunning," I replied and grimaced at my attempt at not sounding cheesy failing miserably. Fortunately she passed no comment on this.

"Well, my little drowned rat, I think it's time you came inside." She stepped to one side and gestured with the riding crop.

I stepped into the porch and stole an opportunity to surreptitiously run the backs of my fingers along her latex-clad stomach. Mistress Scarlett never misses a trick however. The riding crop came sailing through the air to swat at my hand and I instinctively retracted my fingers into a protective fist.

"Getting bold, I see," she said, with a laugh in her voice. "You really do need a proper lesson this time."

She shut the door behind me and the lock clicked. I was truly imprisoned in her lair; there was no escape now from what lay ahead.

She walked ahead of me and I followed like a pet desperate for attention. I watched as her hips swung before me, her firm arse cheeks flexing as she stepped across the tiles, the rubber which encased them shining in the dim light of her hallway.

We entered her minimalist living room and she turned to face me.

"You remember the safety word?"

"Yes, Mistress," I answered, a quaver in my voice. The situation had a more solid reality than before by virtue of experience and I felt nervous at the prospect of extended passion and torment.

She stepped up to me and pressed her slick figure against my body, sliding her left hand around my back to rest it on my shoulder. Her rubber-clad body was warm; waves of heat rose from those places where her skin was exposed and I felt a familiar stirring as the reality of her flesh was reinforced.

Her face came close to mine and her lips brushed my own. The dark lipstick had a fruity taste and I tried my utmost to restrain myself from passionately reciprocating her kiss, from consuming her beautiful mouth.

She knelt down and placed the riding crop on the floor, her left hand running down my body as she did so, ending on the front of my trousers. Her fingers caressed and gripped my hardening cock, hidden beneath layers of fabric. With an inhaled hmmm, she rose to her feet and ran her fingers up and over my face to brush my wet hair backwards over my scalp. Her right hand slipped down and took the overnight bag from me.

"I think it's time you undressed," she commanded and walked over to the sofa to place the bag by its side.

"I brought a gift for you," I said as she turned to regard me.

"Oh yes?" She smiled beatifically and my heart fluttered.

"I-in the bag," I stammered and slipped my jacket off.

She unzipped the bag and withdrew my gift: a bottle of finest red wine.

"I guessed you like red wine from before. It's... rather expensive," I muttered and began unbuttoning my shirt.

"Thank you," she said as she held the glass bottle and regarded the label. "I think we can have some fun with this."

I continued to undress as she walked from the room, her heavy boots making contact with the floor with a pleasing parade ground stamping.

I was down to my underwear when she returned with a large wine glass hanging upside down by its stem from her sensual fingers. She placed it on the glass coffee table and retrieved a bottle opener from a bowl.

"I said undressed," she spoke absentmindedly as she worked the corkscrew into the neck of the bottle. "I want you naked immediately."

I slipped my fingers into the waistband of my shorts and obliged. My stiff cock slipped free at the same instant she worked the cork from the bottle with an echoing 'pop'. She giggled and poured a generous measure into the glass upon the table.

She flicked her hair back over one shoulder and, picking up the glass, took a deep gulp of the precious wine. It had cost me a week's pay to purchase and now it ran down her throat; I couldn't think of a better place to put it.

She crossed her left arm underneath her breasts and rested her fingers on her right elbow as she sipped at the wine and regarded my naked form.

"Delicious," she spoke and I wasn't sure whether she was referring to the wine or to myself. She placed the glass back on the coffee table. From the sofa she picked up a familiar collar and leash and approached me.

"Put this on." She held it out.

I wrapped the collar about my throat and felt for the buckle at the back of my neck. I tightened it to a pleasing constriction and let my arms fall to my sides. The room was warm and my rain slicked hair was gradually drying. I felt comfortably naked before my mistress. I wanted to stretch out on her tiled floor and be probed and invaded by her, to give my vulnerable body completely over to her commanding hands.

"On your knees, slave," she ordered and I eagerly obliged, lowering myself to the warm tiles at our feet.

She bent over and retrieved the crop from beside me. Her left hand came forward to take hold of the leash.

"Now for your infraction as you entered, I'm afraid you must receive some punishment. Stick that cute arse up in the air, little boy."

I leant forward and thrust my backside upwards, eagerly providing her with her quarry.

The riding crop came swishing through the air to crack against my flesh. As a stinging pain spread instantly through my backside I grinned with joy. It came sailing again and again to lick the skin of my arse and she laughed as she punished my behind. A full ten strokes were delivered before I was allowed to breathe again and I was left panting from her ministrations for a moment.

"What do you say?" she asked when it was over.

"Thank you, mistress," I answered, desperate to make her happy.

"Good boy. Now, come." She tugged at the leash and I followed her over to the sofa on my hands and knees.

She slid onto the leather sofa, her black catsuit squeaking as it made contact.

"Sit up against the sofa and lay your head back."

Without hesitation, I did as I was told, completely trusting her to administer exactly what I needed. I looked up into her upside down face, her hair hanging about her shoulders as she gazed down into my eyes.

"Open your mouth."

I opened my jaw wide at her command. She immediately spat in my mouth and I felt her warm saliva run over my tongue to pool at the back of my throat.

"Good boy," she spoke with a smile. "Now stay exactly like that and breathe through your nose."

She leant forward and from a silver case retrieved a cigarette which she quickly lit, exhaling a plume of blue/black smoke. She sat back on the sofa with her glass of wine in one hand and the other slipping the cigarette to and from her dark lips.

She took a deep sip of wine and leant forward over me once again. She lowered her face to mine and trickled the wine from her lips into my mouth. My tongue tingled and I felt a desperate need to swallow. Once she had filled me with the rich, red liquid she sat back and continued to smoke.

I was furiously breathing through my nose, willing myself not to swallow, to hold the wine between my cheeks, my mouth open for her judgement.

She lowered the cigarette to hover over my face and tapped the ash into my mouth. The smoke invaded my nose and I held my breath, trying to not cough the wine into her lap.

"Good boy," she purred from above. "You're my ashtray now."

She took another drag and flicked the ash into the pool of wine in my mouth where it sizzled. This continued for several minutes with her giggling as she flicked the dead cinders into her human ashtray.

Finally, she leant forward and stubbed the cigarette out in a traditional ashtray upon the coffee table. Her hand came down to stroke my cheek.

"Now, be a good boy and swallow it all up," she commanded.

I closed my eyes and drank the warm wine, laden with ash, down and exhaled as the liquid warmed my insides. She slid down and off the edge of the sofa to come to rest on my right leg. The latex of her suit smoothly slid onto my skin and her weight was pleasing on my thigh. Her hand came down to firmly grip my erection. She spat in my face and gripped my cheeks with her free hand.

"You're such a trashy little slut," she hissed in my face viciously. "You couldn't keep away from me. I'm going to have fun breaking you in even further. You need to be extremely punished for how disgusting you truly are."

Her hand withdrew and came back across my cheek in a harsh slap. I let loose an involuntary squeal at the sudden pain but no sooner had this violence registered in my fevered brain when she struck me again, her palm impacting my skin with a vicious slap which echoed in the sparse living room.

She laughed and spat in my face. Gently wiping her spit across my now pink cheek she spoke more gently.

"Yeah, you like that, don't you slut?"

I nodded and licked at the saliva which was running over my top lip. She slapped me again and took hold of my face roughly with her fingers.

"I can't hear you!" She shouted in my face, her breath rich with wine and smoke.

"Yes, Mistress," I whimpered.

"Good boy," she responded and began to slide her hand up and down my engorged length. "You know, I like this catsuit a lot. It makes me feel empowered. You can see me and yet you can't. My skin is inside, out of sight, whilst my curves are all on show."

She let go of my cock and stood before me.

"However," she continued as she took hold of the leash at my neck once more, "It gets very hot. My skin can't breathe and I get very sweaty inside."

She turned so her backside hovered inches from my face. Her hand came round to her lower back and took hold of the metal zip that hung there.

"I want you to lick the sweat out of my arse."

Her fingers slid the zip down and the latex parted to reveal her round backside. She unzipped the catsuit to down between her legs so that her arse cheeks and bald pussy lips were exposed, glistening with sweat. She leant forward to reveal more of herself.

"There, that's better," she purred and tugged at the leash, pulling my head towards her exposed flesh. "Now lick my arse, little boy."

Her skin smelt of talcum and rubber and I eagerly pushed my face between her arse cheeks. I slipped my tongue out of my mouth and began to lick at her damp skin. Her hand came back, took hold of my hair and pulled my face deeper into her arse. I worked my tongue up and down the crack of her backside, greedily licking up her salty sweat. Then I darted my tongue into her arsehole, feeling the tight constriction of skin part around the tip. The heat of her insides made the end of my tongue tingle as I pushed it deeper inside my mistress's arse, bringing my hands up to clutch her thighs as I did so to afford myself further penetration.

"Oh, you dirty little cunt," she groaned and pushed her arse back, encouraging my probing tongue. "Yeah, you like licking my arsehole, don't you? You know you're just buying yourself further punishment? That's right, you know you have to do exactly what I say and I didn't ask you to stick your tongue up my arse, only to lick it. However, your slave tongue feels good so I'll let you continue for now. You'll get repaid for your presumption, I assure you."

Taking a firm grip of my head, she began to slide her wet arse crack on my face, rubbing her backside over my mouth and lips. I felt her fingers slide into her pussy beneath my chin and heard her moan as she began to touch herself whilst I licked at her behind.

"Yeah," she breathed, "lick my fucking arse you little cunt. I'm going to cum all over these fingers and then you're going to lick them dry."

I continued to furiously lick up and down her crack, sliding the tip of my tongue over her arsehole as she frigged her pussy. She was moaning loudly now, deep and primal sounds which built in length and intensity. Her fingers worked aggressively at her clit, her nails sometimes scratching at my chin as I worked my mouth into her arse.

Then her moans built to a furious scream and she backed her body forcibly onto me, pushing me back on to the tiles, my mouth smothered by her flesh as she came hard on my face.

"Yes, yes, yes," she yelped and rubbed her pussy on my face vigorously, wiping her juices over my mouth and nose, as she rode out her orgasm with my head as her saddle. I couldn't breathe but I didn't care as the silky smooth, boiling skin of her pussy lips was wiped over my face.

Her hands found my cock and she slid forward, finally allowing me air. I gulped at it, my vision swimming from lack of oxygen as I felt her lips wrap around my length. She lay on top of me, greedily sucking at my cock as I panted for breath, her wet pussy laying on my chest.

She withdrew my cock from her mouth and began to pump it in her hand.

"Hmmm, I like this cock." She smacked her lips. "I think it's juuuuust right. I think I want to feel this cock inside me tonight."

My heart skipped a beat; had I heard her correctly?

"I think I want my insides stretched around your length." She continued to masturbate me and I groaned as I felt my excitement building at the base of my balls.

"But first." She let go of me. "First, we need to address your worrying lack of respect for your mistress's wishes."

She planted a heavy boot on the tiles on either side of my head and lifted herself up to stand over me. Taking hold of the zip which now hung above her pussy, she closed the gap which exposed her holes and took hold of my leash.

"Get on your hands and knees."

I obeyed swiftly, my head brushing the tightly bound boot laces on her shins as I manoeuvred myself into position at her feet.

She stepped over to the table and poured herself another glass of wine. Returning to my side with the glass in hand she sat down on my back. I grunted as I took her weight and she crossed her legs, increasing the burden on my back. She giggled and took a big gulp of wine. Her free hand came down to stroke my lower back.

"I think I could get used to this," she said between sips of wine. "Ashtray, chair, toilet... you have so many uses."

"I hope I satisfy you in all, Mistress," I said, my teeth gritted beneath her. She is not heavy but I am not a strong man and years of toiling behind a desk does not adequately prepare one to be human furniture.

"Did I say you could speak?" Her voice held a tone of menace.

"No, mistress, I'm sorry."

"That's better. But yes, you do satisfy me. A great deal. I like to humiliate you. There are not many so willing for degradation as you. It's fun."

I felt my heart warm, despite the pain of my burden. So I was more than just another customer after all. Or was she just saying that for my benefit? Despite her power over me in that moment, I held the real power. I was the one who was paying, after all. I could end the scenario at any time and she would oblige. It was, all of it, artifice- a role play where I only imagined I was at her mercy.

123
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