Testing the Submissive(29)

After that was the married couple who had just won large at a slot machine on the cruise ship during their honeymoon. They decided to splurge and indulge in some kinky fun. I was the kinky fun. She slapped my face repeatedly while he took to my ass with a ping pong paddle. Then one of them would fuck me, while the other continued beating me.

While the famous basketball player didn’t book me, a famous baseball player did. I didn’t recognize or know of him at the time of our session, but afterward I Googled him and saw that he had had quite the career. Seemed he was quite adept at swinging a bat during his heyday. I’d say he was equally adept at swinging a cane.

Lewis kept a reasonable distance between each of my appointments. I’m not sure if that was for my benefit, so I could physically and mentally rest in between each. Or, if it was for the benefit of the clients, so each could have an unblemished piece of canvas with which to start in on. Typically, it took anywhere from five or six days to a full three weeks for the marks on my body to fade.

In the seven months that passed, I was well whipped and well used. My tongue found its way into a lot of places. It might be in someone’s mouth, spending time dancing with another tongue. It might be lapping at a pair of sweaty balls. Might be flicking away at a row of toes. Might be buried deep into the cleft of a sodden vagina. Might even be all stiffened up attempting to poke into someone’s wrinkled hole. I was a whore, and I fucked whoever Lewis sent me to, usually after they took out their frustration on me.

How could I forget the plus-sized woman who wanted to wrestle me? She was a big fan of the website Ultimate Surrender where women tussle, and the winner gets to sexually dominate the loser. I didn’t stand a chance. It was actually quite frightening, especially when she stared at me across the make-shift ring. Soon, I didn’t surrender, I begged surrender. She made me pay for it with that massive black strap-on. Word is she’s saving up her money for a rematch.

Indeed I was well paid. I had accumulated a six figure savings account in less than half a year.

In between every one of these sessions, Lewis interviewed me. He would ask questions and I would answer. Always truthfully. I still blushed every time I confessed about my own orgasms at the hands of my abusers. Lewis would shake his head, feigning distain, but I never failed to notice his bulging pants during such instances.

If it was a particularly harsh session, he would come and visit me in person for aftercare. From now on, every time I taste a chocolate croissant I will associate it with an aftercare session. It got to the point where, when I was being whipped by someone, deep down I would hope for a bad one, thereby increasing the odds of a visit from Lewis for some aftercare.

My only concern was, he never fucked me after Paris. It killed me. I never understood why, and dared not ask. Until one day when he said: “I want to fuck you again Abby”.

Abby? I so love when he calls me by name! It was rare that Lewis called me by my first name, here in Chicago. I felt those familiar butterflies.

And fuck me he did. We fucked that night. In the morning. The next afternoon. And the following night.

It got to the point where I was sleeping at Lewis’ suite as often as I stayed at my place. He began to take me to social events and friend’s parties, not as a submissive, but as his girlfriend. We took his mother to dinner on her birthday, as his father had long since passed. I met a couple of his business associates at a cocktail party to raise awareness for a local charity. It felt real. We were a real couple. I think it’s fair to say we were past falling in love. We were in love.

“Oh, there’s someone I’d like you to get to know,” he announced one day.

It was that tone of voice. Uh oh! I could never mistake that tone of voice. This was the tone of voice he used during our interviews. It was a firm tone of voice. There was no negotiation, no discussion, no counter-argument, and no leeway. There was only obedience and compliance from my end.

“Yes, Sir. I understand,” was the only reply I could muster.

Deep down, I didn’t care. As long as Lewis was my boyfriend, I didn’t care who else fucked me. I’d endure it. I’d endure anything to keep him in my life. Worse than that, deep down, I was glad. Sure I had butterflies in my tummy as it had been a while, but a little smile crept up onto my face. As hard as I tried to wipe it away, I couldn’t.

“You might not be smiling when you find out who will join us.”





CHAPTER 16: UNEXPECTED VISITOR


Four days later…

I was nervous. This would be the first time Lewis would be present during one of my whippings. He’d be there to observe, and who knows, perhaps he was intending to join in.