AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“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.
