Testing the Submissive: The Story & Confessions of a Masochist

by Al Daltrey

  Walking into my closet, I opened up the lingerie drawer, and there was my new baby-doll night gown. Made out of pale pink organza, it flowed over my curves nicely. I had just purchased it from Neiman Marcus and was glad that I had picked up the matching panties.

  I checked my phone, no messages from Lewis. Oh well, he must be busy with his function so I crawled into bed and realized that after all, I was tired. I moved over to his side of the bed because his pillow smelled of him. Closing my eyes, I fell fast asleep.

  Suddenly, I was stirred awake. The bathroom light was on in the distance. Lewis was standing at the foot of the bed. I was about to ask him how his night was, but before I could get the words out he said, “Abby, stay on your back and don’t move”.

  He tore the covers off me.

  I looked down and saw the flimsy ruffles skim over my breasts. I was suddenly chilled, and my nipples were poking through the fabric.

  “You have on a pretty nightie. And how lovely, it’s rather short. Now spread your legs apart.”

  I did so, slowly.

  “Wider.”

  I wasn’t sure if Lewis could see my pulsing pussy through the fine lace panties.

  “Don’t you normally sleep without panties, Abby?”

  I shrugged, “Usually Master, yes.”

  Lewis’ voice became unyielding, “I never want you to sleep with panties on. Ever. I need to be able to access your pussy at all times. Even in the middle of the night, if I so chose.”

  “Of course, I understand,” I whispered. “It won’t happen again.”

  Without warning, he pulled my nightie up further. Lewis then placed his hand on my panties, gripped the material forcibly, and bore down on it aggressively with his strong fingers. He shoved his fingers through the torn fabric, effectively shredding my panties and forcing some of the material up into my vagina.

  Say, “You own me, Sir.”

  “You own me, Sir.”

  He pulled his fingers back out, palmed my clit momentarily, then shoved them back up inside pushing through the torn material and forcing into me with such hostility it was almost painful. Next, he circled his palm and fingers, and the pain turned into something quite heavenly. It felt very good.

  “Your moist pussy belongs to me. Your clit is responding, engorged, hoping to be satisfied. This nightie looks like it was new. Too bad, slut.”

  Abruptly, he lowered his head, and pierced the fabric with his teeth biting down on the cloth just around the area of my nipples. I almost cried out in pain as another finger was added to the assault on my pussy. His free hand then grabbed the fabric, and he ripped it right down my middle. I was now lying in a very shredded nightie. I was opened wide. Of course, I dared not move.

  All the while, Lewis was still wearing his black fitted pin-striped suit. It was an Armani, brand new, and the juxtaposition of our clothing made me feel even more vulnerable. Who doesn’t love a man in a good suit?

  “I’m going to fuck you…but first, I seem to remember you misbehaved this morning.”

  Obviously, he had not forgotten about my minor transgression. I had winked when he told me not to masturbate today. That might not seem like a big deal, but it was suggestive I might cheat. The truth is, he would have absolutely no way of knowing if I did, or didn’t. It starts to mess with that magical bond between a dominant and submissive, called trust. My early morning smug attitude was about to cost me dearly.

  “Don’t move,” he said. In a flash, he was gone. I waited. I could hear my own breathing.

  I barely had time to gather my thoughts, when he was back. Uh oh! In his hands were two vicious looking nipple clamps. They were the black heavy ones, with the tension screw, so the tightness could be adjusted. Something told me they were set tight. I was right. Lewis clasped one onto my left nipple, and the sensation was immediate. Pain! He tugged on it, to make sure it had a good firm grip. I bit my lip so hard; I thought I might have cut it. Luckily, I didn’t. The right nipple was no less painful. He snapped the clamp closed directly onto my protruding nipple, and I was in a world of agony instantly. My nipples were being crushed. These clamps were serious business.

  Next, he attached a thin silver chain to each of the clamps. Oh fuck! This would make it easy for him to tug on the chain, thereby tugging on both of my nipples at the exact same time. I prayed he wasn’t intending to tear them off me in this manner.

  “I have a new clamp today, Abby.” He was fucking with me. Messing with my mind. His tone of voice was pure evil.

  He held it up for me to see. Where is that going to go??

  “This is called an ali-clamp. You know why, little tramp?” It was a rhetorical question, and there was no need for me to answer.

  “See, it’s shaped just like an alligator, with these sharp jagged teeth and a long snout. When a girl is as slutty as you are, with a pussy that is always wet and slick with whore-juice, only an ali-clamp can take hold of your clit without slipping off. Oh My God! He was going to fasten that wicked looking clamp right onto my clit!

  Meanwhile, my nipples were now burning with pain!

  He used his fingers to pull apart my labia. My engorged clitoris, looking like a shiny pink pebble, was an easy target. The clit hood piercing seemed to make my nub even more accessible, as he pushed on the ring with his thumb.

  Plus, he swiped a piece of the shredded panty-material over the area to temporarily dry me. Then he opened up the jaws of the ali-clamp by squeezing down on it, and when he released it…those cruel and unforgiving teeth came clamping down directly onto my clit! I saw fucking stars! While my body adjusted to the pain, or tried to adjust, he attached another chain.

  The two chains linked up. I was breathing as if I was delivering a baby. He stood beside the bed. Now, with one hand, he could pull up on the chain. When he did so, my nipples and clit felt like they were being torn off my body. One tug, three shots of pain.

  “Did you cum today, Abby?”

  “N…no…Mas...Master. I didn’t. I would never disobey.” My answer was the truth, of course.

  “I believe you, little one. But you were cheeky this morning, weren’t you?”

  “Yes…yes, Sir. I’m…I’m sorry.” The pain was unbelievable, and it took all my effort to remain composed.

  “Who owns you, little cunt?”

  “You do Master. Only you. You own me.”

  He pulled up one more time on the chain, and this time, I was unable to suppress a scream. I almost screamed a second time when he pried open the ali-clamp in order to remove it. In this case, I think it was fear more than pain. Just feeling his fingers down there petrified me. He removed the clamp safely, and I breathed a huge sigh of relief.

  Unfortunately, I would not be extended the same leniency when it came to my nipples. The difference being, the clamps might hurt like hell, but no risk of damage.

  “What will happen when I remove your nipple clamps, Abby?”

  “They…they will hurt.” I knew from experience when the blood rushed back into my tender nips, a new pain would sweep over them. I hated it, and yet, a part of me loved it too.

  He pulled. I cringed. It took all my resolve not to scream again. The blood rushed in, and with it, followed the agony. I willed myself through it and took a long deep breath. Meanwhile, Lewis had moved to the foot of the bed, and with his suit still on, was approaching my spread legs. This time his cock was out!

  He had unzipped and pulled his throbbing penis out of the Armani. Thick and strong. Rock hard. Ready to spear me. Ready to penetrate me. Ready to pound me. I was nothing more than a hole in that moment. The clamps where gone. Here came paradise.

  He pushed into me with a single thrust. That perfect cock of his. He slid it into my wet and waiting pussy, and heaven descended upon me. My still tender clit responded immediately. I had always been a girl who came rather quickly, but since getting the clit hood piercing, it seemed even easier to bring me off. I knew I’d be cumming in no time at all. Normally, I’m not required to ask for p
ermission to cum, but given the day’s instructions, I thought it prudent to ask.

  “Permission to cum, Master?”

  He whispered in my ear, “Yes, you may cum.”

  I could hold back no longer. An intense orgasm overcame me. My legs trembled. My fingers stiffened. It was one of those orgasms that takes over my entire body. It felt amazing. When it subsided, I knew there was a second one just around the corner. I suspected Lewis knew too.

  While he continued fucking me hard and rough, his hand twisted and pulled on my nipple. It was still tender from the clamp, and his touch made me wince. Then, his other hand moved to my throat. He so owned me. I would do anything for my husband, my Master, my owner. As my second orgasm approached, so did Lewis’. We came together, just as his hand squeezed on my throat, not preventing my air supply, but restricting it. He choke-fucked me through my climax, while he spurted copious amounts of cum deep into his property.

  We caught our breath, while he lay on top of me, suit and all. Then he pulled away and slumped over onto his back. I wiped a bead of sweat from his brow.

  “May I pretend we’re at the Four Seasons, Master?”

  Lewis didn’t quite know my meaning, as evidenced by the furrowing of that same brow. I decided to ask the question another way.

  “May I do my duties as clean-up maid?”

  This time he understood. He lay back, and I moved around the bed until I was in a good position between his legs. First, I pulled off his pants and underwear. Then, I started with his balls, and working up the shaft, I tasted a mixture of our juices. He softened while I completed my undertaking. Before I was finished, I noticed a change in his breathing.

  My Master was fast asleep, naked from the waist down, but with his shirt and jacket still on.

  CHAPTER 22: BACK IN BLACK

  Our one year anniversary…

  No relationship is perfect. Except ours. Lewis and I seem to be compatible on every level. We have a perfect marriage.

  We travelled a fair amount during our first year of marriage, with marvelous vacations in places such as Thailand and Namibia. A spontaneous trip for us might involve jumping on a plane and hitting a resort in Bermuda for a long weekend, or driving up to Cape Cod, or zooming up to Montreal Canada for dinner.

  Life was good. Lewis’ career had its rocky periods, but he never brought the stress into our home. For my part, I returned to work and got a decent enough job at a Public Relations firm. We didn’t need the extra money, but it kept me busy and intellectually vibrant. Busy is better than lazy.

  Our sex life was as good as ever. It never slowed down. We fucked like every day was our honeymoon. The kinks were vast and varied. Rough, hard sex to beautiful, sensual lovemaking.

  Rather by accident, we were watching television one evening and a news segment appeared which referenced a ‘secret network’ in North Korea. The context was related to the military so there was no relevance to our network per se, other than the word itself.

  I looked toward Master, and he looked toward me.

  “Do you miss it?” I asked first.

  “Do you?” He responded.

  “I do think about it at times,” I confessed.

  There was a long pause. Neither of us said a word. Meanwhile the television kept on with their story, repeating the word network and secret-network many times, as if taunting us.

  “Master, during the year that I was part of the network, were there any Clients you refused?”

  “Yes, there was indeed one,” he responded.

  “Why did you not send me?”

  “I knew you’d be safe from any real harm, but – this situation would simply be too ruthless and relentless. It would be too much to endure, even for you.”

  “Who was the Client?”

  “His name is Sheik Saeed, in the country of Qatar. He’s been in the network for years. Mostly we see him when he visits North America. The few of us who visited his compound in the desert are too apprehensive to send our girls over.”

  “So you’ve seen the place?”

  “I have. During a trip to Dubai I took a side trip to see the Sheik at his residence. Marjorie visited him several years ago as well, however she only stayed for 24 hours.”

  “What was it like?”

  “Surreal. The building is in the middle of the desert, with stone walls. It looks like a smaller version of the place they killed Osama Bin Laden. The Sheik has four wives ranging in age from early 20s to mid 40s. There is a hierarchy among the wives. He has two bodyguards, big burly men who barely speak. And then there are a few servants, a cleaning maid, a chef, etc. It very much feels like something out of a movie.”

  “I’d be what, a sex slave to the Sheik?”

  “Not only that, he requested a full week. The Sheik himself would whip you at least daily, if not more. He’d also want to show you off to his Arab friends, so you’d be on display and available for their use. There’s no way to predict how many might visit in any given week, but it could easily be a dozen or more.”

  “The wives would use me as well? Aren’t they docile and pretty much wallflowers?”

  “You’d think. But in this case, the wives would spite you for being there. They compete for the Sheik’s attentions as it is, but with you there, they don’t stand a chance. You’d feel their wrath. Just ask Marjorie. And after years of seeking comfort in each other’s arms, they’ve come to enjoy the pleasures of a woman.”

  “Something tells me there’s still more.”

  “There is. Next in the hierarchy would be the Sheik’s two body guards, both big strong men. One of them also doubles as his driver. Far as I know, they would not be allowed to discipline you, but would surely use you for sexual pleasure. Anytime you are not already in use by the Sheik or his friends or his wives, you’d be fair game.”

  “Whew. I’d never rest.”

  “No, you wouldn’t. Not even during the night when you finally try to catch a few much-needed hours of sleep.”

  “Oh God. I’m not sure I even want to hear this one.”

  “Last in the pecking order are the servants – the fat cleaning maid, the old chef, and the dirty grounds keeper who also tends to the camels. They have the least status in the compound and are all the more bitter because of it. They sleep in the servant’s quarters, and as a slave, you must sleep among them – that is, when you are finally allowed to turn in.”

  “Perhaps they will ignore me, Sir.”

  “Fat chance. From what I heard, they’d await you. Think about it, sex-slaves are the only people they will ever encounter lower in rank. They can’t pass-up such opportunities. Similar to the guards, they would not risk marking you, but they’d certainly make good use of you.”

  There was a pause while Lewis and I both contemplated the horrors that would await me, if he ever sent me to this desert compound. Then he continued:

  “Now you see why I refused? It would be too much, even for you.”

  I remained speechless. Still a bit stunned. But strangely, I also felt invigorated. I felt fully alive and aroused, and I couldn’t help but notice there was a massive bulge in Lewis crotch, which he was trying to obscure with his hands. He knew such a trip would push me to the very edge of my limits, perhaps beyond, but he couldn’t help but be turned-on by the prospect of it. He didn’t want me to go for my sake, but probably for his own sake, he’d have loved it.

  The words I heard my own voice verbalize surprised me as much as they surprised Lewis:

  “Send me.”

  “I wasn’t exaggerating Abby.”

  “I know Master.”

  “Why?”

  I knew if I told him I wanted to go to please him, there’s no way he’d agree. I was scared out of my wits, but I steadied my voice, put up a brave face, “It’s a life experience I don’t want to miss.”

  Much discussion ensued. Lewis put up a few barriers, but I countered each one. It was ironic really. Here’s the man who would send me out to get whipped by others, now shie
lding me.

  I knew I had won when he asked, “Are you absolutely certain?”

  “Yes Master, I am.”

  “You also realize if you do this, you’re back in the network?”

  “Yes Master, I fully realize the broader consequences of my decision,” was my reply.

  CHAPTER 23: CONFIRMATION BY EMAIL

  Two hours later…

  Lewis had crafted the email. Since I was on a roll, I asked permission to see it in advance.

  To: Sheik Saeed.

  Re: my wife

  Upon further consideration, I’ve decided I will send my wife to act as your slave for a week. My only condition is that someone be appointed to monitor the frequency and severity of her use by the members of your compound. With potentially multiple users, I need to ensure she receives at least some time for rest and recovery. Otherwise, she might be passed around without anyone realizing how continuously she is in use. Let’s discuss parameters. Regards, Lewis.

  I pulled the laptop toward me and reached with my hands until they found the keyboard. Lewis hesitated, but then reluctantly nodded. Neither of us said a word, but he knew I was going to tweak it. I typed carefully and thoughtfully, then steered the laptop toward Lewis so he could read the screen.

  To: Sheik Saeed.

  Re: my owned cunt

  Upon further consideration, I’ve decided I will send my slave to you for a week. I do hope you will make her available to your entire compound including your wives, friends, staff – and any of their friends. With my blessing, encourage them to use her as frequently and severely as they desire. Consider there to be no restrictions on how often she is punished or used; or by how many. I trust you will enjoy. Regards, Lewis.

  Lewis shook his head in disbelief, but underneath I knew he was aroused beyond belief.

  Master did not stop my hand when pressed down on the ‘send’ button.

  The End.