Testing the Submissive: The Story & Confessions of a Masochist Page 8

  I didn’t go into specific details because that’s not what Lewis was asking, but I did admit my face had been buried between the legs of all the three of the women, and that I’d cleaned up the mess left on Marjorie’s face. Lewis was more pleased, not so much because of the sex itself, but rather it was further proof the subs were a happy bunch of campers. When a natural pause in the phone conversation occurred, I anticipated Lewis was about to say goodbye.

  Instead, he directed his next question to his driver: “Victor, do you remember the last time you dropped off Abigail?”

  “I sure do, Sir. Yup. I remember well,” Victor said. He sat up in the seat, clearly feeling haughty.

  “What did you say to Abby in the elevator on the way up to her apartment?”

  Ohhhh…darn. This is going to make me blush like crazy. I did blush. I hadn’t forgotten about the dialogue between Victor and me either, but now I’d have to hear my own words played back at me. Meanwhile, Victor was grinning ear-to-ear.

  “I asked her if she like it rough,” he said.

  “And what did Abby say in return, Victor?”

  “She said…yeah, yeah she like it real rough.”

  I was squirming with shame. Fuck, why didn’t I sit in the back seat? Flashes of that evening with Victor ran through my head. How he drove his thick, long cock deep into my pussy from behind, while pulling on my hair. How he tossed me around like a ragdoll, flipping me over and into various positions as if I was a mouse being played with by a cat. The memories made me shudder, but also I felt that predictable tingle.

  Lewis’ next question momentarily puzzled me: “Then why didn’t you give it to her rough?”

  “Huh??” Victor wasn’t puzzled, he was completely discombobulated. “Oh I did, Mr. Lewis. I did give it to her rough,” he claimed in self defense.

  “Funny, that’s not what Abby said.”

  Oh my God!! Lewis is setting me up! I don’t think I could have blushed more deeply. All the air seeped out of my lungs. I knew what was happening, and I knew I was in deep shit. Victor’s happy disposition changed to one of embarrassment and downright anger.

  “What you mean, Sir?” Victor plainly considered further clarification necessary.

  “Don’t get me wrong Victor, she liked it. You know so yourself. You satisfied her,” Lewis was reassuring Victor so as not to completely crush the guy.

  “Abby,” he shifted the conversation to me, “how many times did you cum when Victor fucked you?”

  “Four times, Sir. I came four times when Mr. Jaukovic fucked me.” To signify respect, I thought it best to use Victor’s last name in that moment.

  Victor was partly appeased, but not entirely. This was Lewis’ strategy. He was brilliantly manipulating Victor without the man’s knowledge.

  “But you did tell me he wasn’t rough enough, didn’t you Abby?”

  I bit my lip. Of course, I had said no such thing. In fact, I had been surprised Victor had used me as roughly as he did. The man didn’t hold back at all, in my view. That said, I was a pawn in this game too. Lewis wanted me to play along, and I was sealing my own fate.

  “Y..yes, S..Sir. I did say that.” My head hung in shame as Victor was now pulling into my parking garage.

  Victor glared at me, “You say that??”

  “Yes, Victor, I mean…Mr. Jaukovic. I’m sorry, but yes I did say that.”

  Victor re-addressed Lewis, “I go any rougher, I be leaving bruises all up and down her!”

  Lewis was evil in his response, “Victor my friend, that’s the whole idea.”

  The call ended just as we were about to turn-off the car. Lewis offered my services for the next two hours, and Victor jumped on the opportunity without hesitation. He didn’t say a word after that. Complete silence as we walked to the elevator. I knew this was going to be bad when Victor was walking ahead of me, not alongside me. I had to walk quickly to keep up. Any respect he had for me was temporarily gone for now. Not a word while we waited for the elevator. He barely looked at me, but when he did I lowered my eyes. The elevator took forever to arrive! Or, perhaps it seemed like it took forever under the circumstances. Finally when we heard the ding and the doors open, we could step inside. It was empty. No one was there.

  He waited a few seconds to see if it would stop at the lobby to pick up more residents. When it didn’t he pounced on me. The first thing he did was take my arm and bring it behind me, twisting it more than half-way up my back. The pain in my upper arm and wrist was instantaneous and excruciating. I worried he might actually sprain it, but of course he wouldn’t. He was a pro. They were all pros. I was a submissive among a group of very experienced dominants, and this kind of pain was the price of entry. I stood on my toes in an attempt to alleviate the agony. Victor pushed further up. I stood on my tippy toes. He adjusted again. I was hurting so much that I had to remind myself to breathe.

  Then he pulled his knee back and slammed it into my outer thigh. Arrrrrgggggghhhhh!

  That would leave a bruise. One about the size of a softball. Not only that, it caused my one leg to collapse, which put even more strain on my poor arm. This wasn’t going to be pretty.

  Victor growled into my ear, “Is this what you want, bitch?”

  What could I say? I wanted to say: no Victor, this is NOT what I want. What you did last time was MORE than rough enough. I don’t want this. Do I want you to fuck me, YES! But do I want you to be rougher than before, NO!! But I did not say any of that. It’s not what Lewis would have wanted. The game we were playing didn’t go like that.

  So instead, arm in deep pain, thigh aching, breathing difficultly, I replied: “Yes, Victor…this is what I want…this is exactly what I want.”

  Two hours and two orgasms later, he left me. I was laying the floor in my living room. We never made it as far as the bedroom. I was too sore to make it there now. My body ached. I had no choice but to nap right there and then, on the cold hard floor. Perhaps after a nap, I’d be better able to move. My Banana Republic outfit was tattered beyond repair. Victor had ripped open the blouse sending those double buttons flying up into the air. He couldn’t wait to get his thumbs and forefingers on my nipples to show me what rough really meant.

  I reached for that torn blouse which was only a few feet away. I curled it into a ball of sorts and rested my weary head upon it. Yeah, I was sick of that outfit. Its final use was to be my pillow for the next few hours.

  Then I drifted off to sleep.

  CHAPTER 14: AFTERCARE

  Just under four hours later…

  When I awoke, I was startled to see Lewis sitting beside me on my bed. I jumped up and gasped!

  “It’s okay, it’s just me, don’t be alarmed,” he comforted me. At some point during the afternoon, he had carried me to my bed.

  “How long have you been here?” I asked, still groggy.

  “For a while,” he reassured me.

  “Oh. Did you come here to make sure I was okay, Sir?”

  “I knew you’d be okay. I would never have played Victor the way I did if I felt there was any risk. Victor has tremendous experience in discipline of this kind from his years in Romania. I’m here because I’m proud of you and wanted to provide some aftercare.”

  It was then I noticed the smell of fresh chocolate croissants. There was also assorted sliced fruit, bagels, and cream cheese on a small platter. In the corner was a bouquet of fresh flowers. Lewis planted a soft kiss on my left eyelid. A second soft kiss on the other eyelid. Yet another on the very tip of my nose. He brushed my hair up away from my face. He held a glass of cool Evian up to my lips. He softly rubbed moisturizer into my skin, paying particular attention to any area with evidence of a bruise, or impending bruise. Then he held my hand while we talked. Beside us, on the night stand, were some newly purchased magazines, with the latest issue of InStyle on top, and a few current DVDs next to that.

  Lewis cared for me for hours. I’d never felt so protected. Both of us dozed off at one point, with my head nestled on
to his chest. When we awakened, we were both hungry, so he slipped outside to a nearby Italian restaurant and came back with a green garden salad, an order of salmon fettuccine alfredo, and garlic bread, which we shared while we watched one of the DVDs.

  Because of our earlier nap, our internal clock was all screwed up. It was now 3:30 am, and I was finally getting tired again.

  “What can I do for you before I leave?” Lewis asked.

  “Tell me a bedtime story.” I responded.

  “About anything in particular?”

  “Yes, tell me about when you first discovered you were a Dom.”

  For the next forty-five minutes, Lewis told me all about his formative years in bdsm. How the feelings were there from as long as he could remember, but he did not act on them until his freshman year at college. His girlfriend at the time was as new to it as well; and together they explored bondage, spanking, control and other games. Subsequent girlfriends brought new experiences, and then he met an older veteran submissive who’d been around the block a few times. She introduced him to her circle of friends, one of them being Steve Jordan, Lewis’ good friend, also currently in the network. For a five year period, Lewis dabbled in all forms of the lifestyle, and while a couple of his relationships became serious, he never fell ‘madly in love’ to use his words. He couldn’t tell me much about the network itself as that was highly confidential.

  He explained to me that dominants are not ‘trained’ per se, the same way that submissives often are. Rather they are exposed to various techniques, counseled and provided guidance. Qualities such as honesty and integrity are not taught by bdsm, but by life itself. Same with responsibility and compassion, as ironic as that may sound. As seemingly cruel and sadistic a dominant may appear, there is always a reason, be it pleasure, punishment or purpose.

  “Was there a purpose today?” I asked him, my eyes heavy with sleep.

  “I was testing you.”

  He kissed my cheek, tucked the comforter up around my neck and let me sleep.

  CHAPTER 15: MY NEW LIFE

  About every other week or so…

  There was the older man in his mid-50s who beat me harshly with a thick rubber hose. I couldn’t shower for days afterward because the hot water was too painful. My skin looked awful. I carefully washed my hair in the sink and wore loose fitting clothing.

  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.

  We drove to the house of a friend of his. When I met the man, he seemed quite nice. Experienced and mature Dominants always have an understated confidence, and a certain politeness. There is no need to flaunt their power. A smart sub knows this intuitively. Was this the man who would be joining us? When he gathered his cell and his car keys, I realized he was leaving.

  Lewis led me down into the basement of the luxurious home, and that’s when I noticed the dungeon. I was told to remove all of my clothing and then directed to a St. Andrew’s cross. I silently complied. My arms and legs were pulled wide apart and securely tied off in a standing position. Lewis didn’t rush the process, and it was evident he wanted me just right. My body formed a giant ‘X’.

  Lewis checked his watch, “He’ll be here in ten minutes, just enough time for your briefing.”

  My briefing? That was a first. Normally I just show up and do my best to endure the thrashing.

  Lewis explained, “Our guest today isn’t paying. Not only that,
he has no idea that I put you up to this. He in fact believes today’s session is entirely your idea. And you will play along, understand?”

  My idea? The client thinks I set this up? “Yes Sir, I think I understand. I will pretend I wanted this whipping and arranged for you to set it up.”

  “There’s a bit more to it than that. You see Abby, you know today’s assailant.”

  OH MY GOD! I know this person outside of my world as a whipping-bitch? I was too stunned to speak, bound as I was, fully naked – waiting to be whipped by someone from my past, before all this. Meanwhile, Lewis gave me further instructions. I was momentarily discombobulated and had to concentrate to keep listening. Snap out of it. Focus!

  “Our visitor will likely be apprehensive. He may be timid. You need to convince him, not only to whip you – but to whip you severely. Bring out his inner sadist. Work your magic to ensure he knows you have no limits, other than his. Encourage him to do his worst. Do you understand?”

  I paused to let it sink in. Then, I spoke to confirm my willingness, “Y..yes Sir, I understand. I must show him...th...that I’m an extreme masochist, who needs – who craves – the pain he brings…and…and that the harder he hits me, the more I love it.”

  “Lastly, ensure he fucks you.”

  Just then, we heard the doorbell. Lewis left me to stew in my mental anguish while he went to greet our visitor. I was nervous and tried to steady my breathing. That’s when I felt something tickling me, high on my inner thigh, but moving lower. I mocked myself: what a pathetic whore. I was very wet. So wet in fact, that a droplet of my pussy juice was literally running down my inner thigh. Part of me hated being here. But a part of me clearly wouldn’t be pretending at all.

  I looked up as Lewis walked in, accompanied by…..Nooooooo!!

  It was Reverend Watson! My family’s Pastor and someone I’d known for more than a decade. The Reverend was a decent man, but who had found himself in a precarious situation of late. A cleaning lady at the church stumbled upon his porn collection, predominately bdsm related. She approached the police and the press. The story was polarizing, which fueled the controversy. The vast majority of the parish supported their Reverend. He had never touched or even approached anyone, male or female, inappropriately. However, porn is still frowned upon, particularly bdsm. Senior church officials banished him from the church.