Testing the Submissive: The Story & Confessions of a Masochist

by Al Daltrey

  “Yes Sir. Your driver was already waiting for me when I exited the building.”

  At this point, Lewis, as he has done in the past, casually reached out and not-so-casually slapped my face hard, “you call him my driver, even though you fucked him that day.”

  “Yes Sir. Victor was waiting outside for me.”

  “Were you surprised when Victor handed you the note?”

  “Very much so, I was not expecting that at all.”

  Victor had handed me a note from Lewis shortly after I got settled in the car. I was sitting quite gingerly with my ass so sore, and read the note quietly to myself:

  WHORE, I HAVE AN OFFER FOR YOU, NO STRINGS ATTACHED. I KNOW YOU’LL BE SORE WHEN YOU READ THIS, BUT IF YOU NEED SOME COCK BEFORE BED, FEEL FREE TO INVITE MY DRIVER VICTOR UP TO YOUR APARTMENT. UP TO YOU, I DON’T CARE EITHER WAY, LEWIS.

  I looked up and saw Victor looking back at me via the rear view mirror with that wishful look in his eye. He looked like a puppy hoping for a treat. My body was a mess. My inner cunt lips were so sore from that damn flogger, I wasn’t even sure if I could handle a cock that night. But how could I say no to those puppy-dog eyes.

  “How many orgasms did Victor have?”

  “He had four, Sir. He didn’t leave until after 3:30 am.”

  “How many did you have?”

  I blushed deeply, “I had four as well, Sir. Maybe five.”

  “You can’t deny you are a real whore.”

  “I cannot deny it, Sir. I had a choice. I chose to let him fuck me. I wanted him to come up to my apartment, I was sore….but the pleasure was worth it.”

  “Victor told me he asked you something in the elevator, on the way up?”

  “He did, Sir.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He said: ‘I hear you like it rough?’”.

  “And what did you answer?”

  “I answered: ‘Yes, I like it rough. I like it very rough’”.

  To my complete and utter shock, Lewis moved into me and kissed me upon hearing my answer. He kissed me full on the lips. He kissed me passionately, wrapping his arms around me. I was in heaven. I almost smiled into the kiss out of giddiness. Then, I kissed him back. Best I could. I kissed him, hoping the moment would last forever. I spent the last week worried he might have lost respect for me, if he had any in the first place, for fucking his driver. Yet, here he was kissing me so affectionately.

  The kiss lasted at least five minutes before Lewis pulled away, and then his final question shocked me as much as the kiss: “Would you like to go on a date with me next week?”

  My knees almost buckled, I had to blink away tears, “Yes.”

  CHAPTER 7: OUR FIRST DATE

  One week later, a day after the date…

  I lay in bed and cried most of the day.

  The date had not been what I expected. I mean, I had no clear expectations. I didn’t know if I’d be whipped, or fucked, or dined, or what would happen.

  I spent most of the day getting ready. I had my hair done at a great salon, including a mani and a pedi. Even though I have a decent closet, I was sporting a brand new outfit. I didn’t know whether to play it casual, or play it on the dressy side. Hence, I made careful selections that could go either way, a casual top with a dressy skirt, a sexy belt, and just the right jewelry and accessories. Plus, I was further prepared. Lewis had said to pack an overnight bag. This gave me room to maneuver. I had a few back-up clothes and accessories in the bag, just in case I had to make modifications on the fly. If Lewis had something elegant and formal planned, I had a stunning necklace stashed in the bag that would elevate my look. Or, if we were headed to a local pub, I had casual shoes in place of my heels. All in all, I was confident I’d be okay when Victor came to pick me up at 6:00 pm as planned.

  When we arrived at Lewis’s, I was quite surprised when a woman answered. She was quite lovely, slightly older, long dark hair with heavy make-up. I assumed momentarily this was going to be a double-date, and that another couple was joining us. However, once inside it was apparent the three of us were alone. Lewis barely acknowledged me. He was busy in the kitchen preparing dinner. He liked to cook? Who knew? I was immediately put-off by his rudeness, but I didn’t let it show.

  The woman introduced herself as Veronica, but as I started to tell her my name she interrupted: “I don’t care what your name is slut, get those clothes off and go kneel in the corner.”

  Oh fuck. In that moment I realized, this wasn’t a real date. My heart sank. I felt like such a fool. But why was Lewis playing such cruel head-games with me? He was controlling me, pimping me out, making money off me, why mess with my head? I felt stupid, but I obeyed without hesitation, and without showing any attitude. My thoughts were full of piss and vinegar, but I didn’t dare let it show.

  I stripped, and folded my clothes into a neat pile, placing them on the floor beside my overnight bag. Intuitively I knew to face the corner itself with my back to Veronica and Lewis. They conversed, mostly about past friends, who was doing what, who was with whom, etc. At times I could overhear the conversation, but at other times, I could not. Lewis continued to prepare dinner, and clearly he was making something elaborate. I kneeled and waited. Perhaps I was there for sexual use after the dinner?

  I couldn’t quite determine if there was any romance between Lewis and Veronica. Were they friends? Were they fuck-friends? Mostly, I couldn’t help but wonder why he misled me? Why did he use the word ‘date’, instead of just telling me to come over so I could eat his girlfriend’s pussy or whatever?

  Eventually they sat down to dinner. My knees were getting progressively sorer on the hardwood floor. I could deduct from the conversation that they were having truffle soup, steak Madagascar, a bottle of Amarone followed by a bottle of Barolo.

  I endeavored to transport my thoughts elsewhere. I reminisced about my childhood. I tried to make a mental list of errands that needed to be accomplished the following week. Basically, I attempted to pass the time by pretending I was elsewhere, instead of kneeling like a worthless whore in the company of a couple enjoying a lovely dinner.

  In fact, lost in my thoughts, I almost didn’t hear Veronica say, “Whore, come, eat.”

  I crawled toward them. It was only in that moment I realized how hungry I was. I had barely eaten the entire day. In part out of nervousness and eager anticipation for our “big date”, and in part because I expected that dinner was on the agenda. The aroma of delectable food permeated the room, and as I got nearer I could see that there was plenty of steak left on the serving platter in the middle of the table. The meat might be cold by now, but I figured it would still taste great. When I arrived at my destination, I kneeled beside Veronica like a puppy dog. Since she was the one who summoned me over, I would treat her as the person in charge.

  That’s when she lowered her plate to the floor. What?? There was plenty of steak leftover. I wasn’t expected to eat the remnants of her dinner, was I? When the plate was placed on the floor, I seriously debated standing up, gathering my things, and getting the fuck out of there. Lewis could have me whipped by anybody, but this was bullshit. I hesitated, but then I lowered my head. Maybe it was because I was so damn hungry, and the food – even Veronica’s castoff pieces - looked so good. I ate everything that was on her plate. It was bit messy, and thankfully, while I was not permitted to use cutlery, I was allowed to use my fingers. Lewis meanwhile slid his plate across the table to Veronica, which she dumped onto the plate from which I was feasting like a beggar. They finished their wine while I finished my meal as quietly as possible. When Veronica passed me down her glass of water, half drunken, I actually said “thank-you”. She patted my head which truly made me feel like a pet dog.

  I was glad to stand up when the two of them retreated into the living room to watch television. Lewis poured himself a glass of cognac, and Veronica finished off the last of the wine. I was instructed to handle the clean-up. While there were only two of them, the pile of dirty dishes
was bigger than I expected. Lewis had clearly made various sauces and had meticulously prepared everything from the asparagus to the finely chopped pine nuts. It took one hour and fifteen minutes during which I gathered and cleaned, and washed and dried absolutely everything. Best I could, I put everything back in its proper place too, so the whole kitchen area was as tidy as it was spotless.

  Without being told I retired to the corner, where I knelt again, staring into the walls. I must have drifted into a daydream at some point but was alerted when I heard distinct sounds coming from the living room. Veronica was giving Lewis a blowjob. I guess they are fuck friends. A feeling of deep jealousy came over me. Was I this low? Wasn’t my mouth worthy of sucking his cock? Strangely I also felt that familiar and nagging tingle in my pussy. Was the humiliation of this evening turning me on? Fuck, is there a bigger whore on the planet than me?

  Later in the evening they went into the bedroom. I tried to block out the sounds. The fact that I was so ignored hurt my feelings terribly. When I finally heard Veronica’s voice calling me into the bedroom, I half suspected the reason why. She was lying in bed, her knees up and her legs spread, with three fingers forming a dam to the entrance of her pussy. It was evident this would be my dessert. Lewis meanwhile scooted into the nearby restroom. Awww…he wouldn’t be there to witness it. Didn’t he want to see me do it?

  I moved toward the spread legs. It wasn’t lost on me that this would be the first time I tasted Lewis’s cum. Never in a million years would I have guessed that the first time that I ate his cum would be out of the vagina of another woman. When Veronica pulled aside her fingers, I lapped at her hole and was rewarded with a good dollop of warm thick cum. I worked the hole for a good minute while she squeezed out a mixture of their juices. I stiffened my tongue and dug into her as far as it could reach. Then I lapped the area and swallowed over and over, doing as thorough a job as I did with the dishes. Last, I sucked and licked each of the three fingers she had used to plug her hole.

  By the time I had finished, I noticed that Lewis had returned and was sitting in a chair in the corner of the room. I caught him from the corner of my eye sipping on a drink from a crystal tumbler. Water? Brandy? I wasn’t sure. All I knew was, I was the show, and he was enjoying this.

  Lewis got up out of his chair and told me to get on the floor. I glanced at him, just for a second, he was wearing a bath robe. I wanted so desperately to see his entire body. Did he have hair on his chest? What did his cock look like…was it long and thin, short and stubby, big and thick? I wished I could see.

  As I lay beside his bed he said, “Lay with your head on its side, looking under the bed. Do not look up. I will punish you if you do.”

  I placed my head on its side, eyes gazing at the underside of the bed. Lewis walked around to the other side of the bed, while I followed his feet. Sexy as hell, a man’s masculine feet can be such a turn on.

  The next hour was torture. Lewis fondled, stroked and teased Veronica. I could hear everything and it was burning me with envy. Cleary he was a very skilled lover and for the second time they were in the midst of passionate sex. I actually wanted it to stop, I was so jealous. They came together, and I felt completely defeated, lying alone on the cold hard floor.

  That night, as told, I slept on the floor beside their bed. I wasn’t cold as Lewis ensured I was provided a comforter and a pillow, but it wasn’t easy to fall asleep being unaccustomed to such a firm surface. Lewis and Veronica slept on the comfy bed, and as far as I could tell, cuddled much of the night. I felt like a third wheel. Hell, I was the third wheel.

  In the morning, I made coffee as ordered. My greatest humiliation came when Lewis encouraged Veronica to root through my overnight bag. She was allowed to take anything that caught her eye. I was livid! It took all of my willpower not to scream out in protest. She took most of what was in there, commenting on how we were close enough in size that everything fit.

  My displeasure must have been apparent, because for the first time the entire visit, Lewis actually scolded me, his voice louder than usual: “Your face looks flush with color, is there a problem, whore?”

  I bit my lip, and managed to hide my true feelings, “N..no Sir. No problem at all, Sir.”

  Veronica looked at me with spite in her eyes, and she tucked most of my clothing into her overnight bag. As a final token of degradation she tossed her used panties into my bag, as if I was ever going to wash and wear them. That thing was going straight into trash the minute I got home.

  I cried in the taxi, on the way home. I had never felt so low.

  A full day later, I was still feeling low. I felt like such an idiot. I was so excited for my date with Lewis, and all the while he saw me as less than a person. In moments of weakness, I’d cry anew. Then I’d wonder if I would I ever taste him cum again? If so, would it be out of the vag of some bitch he just fucked?

  The phone rang. Caller ID verified it was Lewis. Only one day had passed, and he was phoning me again. He must have another appointment lined up for me. Maybe I’ll tell him to fuck-off.

  I answered the phone, but answering his first question proved more difficult: “Did you enjoy our date?”

  Oh, I enjoyed our date alright you fucking asshole prick bastard jerk. “Um, it was not quite what I expected Sir…but I blame myself for that. I hope I didn’t disappoint you in any way?”

  I hope I didn’t disappoint you?!? What the fuck was I saying? Why did I turn into such a compliant submissive slut the second I heard his voice?

  “Would you like to go out on a second date?”

  A second date? Are you kidding? A second date? Oh yeah sure, because our first date was so much fucking fun. “Sir, it would be a great honor to see you again, no matter what you have in mind.”

  “Good, bring an overnight bag again, and see you Thursday. Victor will pick you up at 6:00 pm.”

  CHAPTER 8: OUR SECOND DATE

  Eleven days later, flying home…

  It was a long flight home. Lewis and I alternated between reading, watching a movie, listening to music, talking, cuddling, and dozing off separately and concurrently. It had been the most wonderful trip of my life. Nine days in Paris. Lewis knew Paris like the back of his hand, and his French was quite good, so I felt almost Parisian during the holiday. We ate at the most incredible restaurants. We stayed in three different hotels, switching every third day for no reason other than fun and variety. Sure, it was a tiny hassle to pack up our belongings and then check in again somewhere new – but it kept everything completely fresh the entire vacation.

  The sex was nothing short of spectacular. Lewis and I clicked in bed, like two lovers made for each other. Both of us would cum so hard and so intensely, we’d almost laugh afterward. Then we’d hold each other, and either catch our breath or not depending on what we just did. The sex, like the trip itself, was full of variety. Sometimes rough and raw, sometimes sweet and intimate. Of course, we did bdsm, but not always, and never the same way twice.

  I was very much in love. Lewis called me by my first name the whole time, and I almost died when he said ‘I love you’. Sometimes I had to pinch myself. This was the same guy who let his network associate Grekko beat me with a strap. This was the same guy who let his driver Victor fuck me all night. This was a man who knew I’d fuck an entire bar full of rowdy men if he told me to. Yet, we’d walk the Champs Elysees holding hands, laughing, telling stories and kissing whenever the moment felt right.

  Victor had picked me up at 6:00 the Thursday that we left. Lewis was already waiting in the car, which of course, was a huge surprise. He kissed me on the cheek and told me I looked beautiful, and then he really shocked me by handing me an airline ticket. His tone of voice was completely different. When I called him ‘Sir’ he told me to call him ‘Lewis’ for the remainder of the date. It was quite funny flying to Europe with nothing more than an overnight bag. Lewis took me shopping on day two, along Avenue Montaigne. He showered me with gifts, clothing, accessories, and jewelry. S
hoes of course! New luggage, make-up, perfume. By mid trip I had enough stuff for a month in Europe. We had so much fun. We jointly selected most of the items purchased. Luckily we had very similar tastes, but it was clear I could buy whatever I wanted. Lewis was very respectful and deferred to me for all final decisions. It was evident early on that he left his domination of me back in Chicago. In Paris, we were equals.

  The nine days flew by. It almost felt surreal; it went by so fast. It was also the first time he’d ever called me by my first name, Abigail. Sometimes he’d call me Abby for short. Every, and anytime he used my name, I felt butterflies. I was beaming with pride. He just called me Abby again!

  During the long flight, I kept thinking back to wonderful little memories. In the Musée d'Orsay we had spontaneously drifted apart, each of us enjoying the historic art on our own, wandering, and knowing we’d find each other eventually. Which we did, we’d cross paths, and then separate again.

  “Take a photo of your three favorite pieces in that section of the sculpture collection,” Lewis had suggested, pointing to an area of the Museum, “and afterward we’ll compare notes.”

  I didn’t select from among the more famous pieces, but rather, lesser known ones. I went with my heart. Which pieces stood out for me, which were the most amazing or the most compelling? Later over foie gras in a bustling French bistro, we had a chance to compare our selections. I handed over my iPhone, and Lewis handed me his Blackberry. To our surprise and delight, among the dozens of pieces in that section, we had both selected two of same three sculptures. The odds of that were incredible, and I took it as a very good sign. We had similar taste and style. Artistically, we were simpatico.

  I was still silently reminiscing as I looked out the window of the airplane. We had started our descent back into O’Hare. I had that sad feeling one gets when a vacation is over, and yet, that strange glad-to-be-home feeling.

  Lewis drew me out of my reverie with a question: “Did you get much sleep on the flight?”