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He wanted to submit, and she was only too happy to oblige him.
I am a 19-year-old male student at a large university in New York City. I spend a lot of my free time hanging out in Washington Square Park, sketching some of the people and the scenery there. I was engaged in this activity a few weeks ago when a woman came along and sat down on the bench next to mine. She was strikingly dressed in some kind of black, shiny material that clung to her every curve, and black leather spike-heeled boots. Her skin-tight bustier was unzipped down to her belly button, and it showcased her beautiful breasts. She looked really hot — and totally unapproachable. But it wasn’t just her appearance that had me staring. In her gloved hand she held a black leather leash, the other end of which was attached to a dog collar around the neck of a middle-aged man who wore no shirt.
I tried not to stare, but for some reason I was unable to look away. The man with the collar sat on his haunches at the woman’s feet. He looked straight ahead of him, neither left nor right, but he seemed completely relaxed. Other people in the park were also staring at the strange couple, and some even snapped pictures with their cell phones. I wondered what could possibly have induced this guy to place himself in such a position.
When I shifted my glance back to the woman, I saw that her ice-blue eyes were trained on me. I’ve been told that I’d be terrible at poker, as all my emotions tend to play across my face. Maybe she saw something in my expression, because she suddenly stood up and produced a business card. She flicked the leash, and the guy rose to a standing position next to her, as if she’d given him a command to heel. Holding the card between two gloved fingers, she offered it to me, and after just a second’s hesitation I took it. Then she pivoted on her stiletto heel and sauntered out of the park, with the man on the leash trailing dutifully behind her. I watched them until they were out of view before looking at the card. All that was printed on it was "Mistress Lindsey" and a phone number.
I held onto that card for about a week before I called. Was it mere curiosity that made me do it, or was there some part of me that wanted to know how it would feel to be on the end of Mistress Lindsey’s leash? When I got her voice mail, I left a message, identifying myself as the guy in the park with the sketch pad. When she called back the next day, I told her I thought I would like to make an appointment for the following evening.
“You’ll come tonight at eight,” she said firmly, and then rattled off an address and abruptly hung up before I could say anything more.
The fact is, I wasn’t too certain about what it was I was making an appointment for. I had an idea, of course, but I wasn’t so sure I was ready. Most of my girlfriends had tended to be kind of bossy, and I liked that. I liked it when they took charge, especially when it came to sex. The more direction they gave me during sex, the hotter I got. I had to admit that something about being ordered around just got me stiff as a post. And if they talked dirty while I was fucking them, all the better. So that evening, with a mixture of trepidation and excitement, I made my way to the address I’d been given, arriving right on time.
Mistress Lindsey lived in a small apartment building. Next to her bell in the lobby was a sign reading: “Ring Once.” I pressed the bell twice, and waited. And waited. After a minute I rang the bell again. But it wasn’t until five minutes later that she finally buzzed me in.
I took the stairs two at a time, and when I reached her floor she was standing in the doorway to her apartment, looking none too pleased. She was dressed in an outfit similar to the one she’d had on in the park, but with more skin showing. My cock rocketed to attention when I spotted the riding crop in her hand.
I walked in and she shut the door after me. I started to say something in the way of greeting, but she cut me off. “You’ve already proved that you can’t read,” she said. “’Ring once’ means ring once. Let’s see if you do better with verbal instructions.” Her voice cracked like a whip. “Take off your clothes — now!”
Oh man, she sounded mean. I swiftly undressed, in the middle of her living room, anticipation vibrating through my body, and then I stood there with my cock curving up toward my stomach. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been this hard, this ready to come, and I knew it wouldn’t take much to set me off.
Mistress Lindsey circled me slowly and stopped directly behind me. “Kneel,” she said.
My brief hesitation might have been deliberate, just to see what she’d do. I didn’t have to wait long to find out. I felt the crop strike across my right buttock, a sharp but momentary sting, but that was all it took. I grunted and dropped to my knees, and as I did so my cock erupted like a volcano, spewing hot jism all over my stomach and Mistress Lindsey’s shiny floor.
I was still ejaculating, the spurts gradually tapering off, when Mistress Lindsey asked sharply, “Did I give you permission to come?”
“I’m sor — ”
“Did I give you permission to speak?” she interrupted. “Now listen to me. You will address me as Mistress Lindsey at all times. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Mistress Lindsey,” I said, trying to sound remorseful as my cock twitched once more at the tone of her voice.
“Now use your shirt to clean up the mess you made,” she told me.
“Yes, Mistress Lindsey.”
I grabbed my shirt and was about to wipe up the mess on my stomach when I felt another strike of the crop on my left buttock. “Leave the evidence of your lack of control on your person, and clean my floor!” she demanded.
“Yes, Mistress Lindsey.”
When I’d finished, I sat back on my heels and waited for instructions.
“Stand,” she said then. “And clasp your hands behind your neck. Don’t move.”
I stood up and she walked around to stand in front of me. Amazingly, my cock was already rock-hard again. “Now you’ll answer a few questions,” Mistress Lindsey said. “And don’t think of lying to me, because I will know, and you will be punished. And don’t even think of coming again unless I give you permission, or our session will end immediately. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Mistress Lindsey,” I said.
“Why did you come to see me?” she asked, as she circled around behind me again.
I did my best to gather my thoughts before saying, “I’m not sure, Mistress Lindsey.” With that I received two strikes from her crop, one across each cheek. My ass felt hot from the stinging blows, and the sensation shot straight to my throbbing cock, but I held it together.
“Why?” she repeated.
“Because, Mistress Lindsey, I like to be told what to do — by women,” I said, adding. “I like to take orders — I get off on it.”
“Good,” she said. The crop felt cool against my skin as she let it trail across my ass, which was still warm from the blows. She let it drag along my hip and under my cock as she came around to face me again. My dick twitched, and I had all I could do not to erupt again.
“You want to come now, don’t you?” she said.
“Yes, Mistress. May I?” I asked.
“May I what?” she said, quickly reaching around to deliver three stinging strokes of the crop against my ass.
“May I please come, Mistress Lindsey?” I said, straightening my back. I was determined to keep my control this time, though my cock felt as if it was about to explode. I wanted to prove myself worthy of another session with Mistress Lindsey.
I felt the crop tease my aching cock as I stared straight ahead. Then I felt her fingers curl around my shaft and begin to stroke. But she hadn’t yet said I could come. My fingers were still laced behind my neck, clenched tightly as I closed my eyes and concentrated on not disappointing Mistress Lindsey. At that moment I wanted to please her more than anything else in the world.
“You can come now,” she said at last, and I let my orgasm rip through me as she pumped my cock. It felt as though it would go on forever, until finally I fell to my knees at her feet, spent and grateful for the heavenly release.
I don’t know how much time passed while I was in that peaceful zone, but Mistress Lindsey brought me back to reality. “Clean your spunk off my boots,” she said.
“Yes, Mistress Lindsey,” I said, looking around for my shirt.
“Use your tongue,” she commanded.
God, was it possible for me to get hard again so soon? “Yes, Mistress Lindsey,” I said, and licked up all of the come that had spattered on her boots. When I had cleaned them thoroughly, I sat back on my heels with my hands on my thighs and waited for her to tell me what to do next.
“Good,” she said. “Now get up and put on your shirt.”
I picked up my shirt, now covered with come stains, and pulled it over my head as I rose to my feet. The come on my stomach had dried to a crusty mess, and the shirt was damp and soggy, but I gladly did what I was told, happy to obey my new Mistress.
“There’s a glass vase by the door,” she said then. “Leave a donation on your way out.”
There were already some bills in the vase, none of them smaller than a 50. I pulled out my wallet and put whatever cash I had, about $75, into the vase. “May I see you again, Mistress?” I asked.
“I’ll call you,” she said. “Close the door on your way out.”
Two weeks went by before I heard from Mistress Lindsey again. I was tempted to call her more times than I cared to count, but I managed to restrain myself. Then last night I received a text message from her, with instructions to purchase a collar, a leash and a pair of woman’s panties from a fetish store on the other side of town, and setting a time for my next appointment. I can’t tell you how much I am looking forward to it.
—
She thought she was the boss, but hubby showed her different
I never thought of myself as a submissive, or as the kind of person capable of letting someone else take over the reins, but recently that changed.
I’m a highly paid attorney at a prestigious law firm. I happen to be very good at what I do, and I don’t take shit from anyone.
Chase, my husband, is an architect, and he works from home. I work longer hours than he does, and I depend on him to keep our household running smoothly. When I come home at the end of the day I don’t want to have to worry about what’s for dinner, whether the dry cleaning has been picked up or if our housekeeper has done the laundry. Chase handles all of that. And when I discovered the pleasure in letting him handle me as well, I was in heaven.
I first discovered my submissive side one Friday night, when we were supposed to go to a costume party. I wasn’t able to leave work until late, and was exhausted by the time I arrived home. Chase had been waiting for me for hours, and he wasn’t happy about it. He had my costume all ready — a cute little French maid’s getup that he swore would turn every male head at the party. The front was so low-cut that it barely covered my pink nipples, and the skirt part was made of several layers of frilly black lace, with a built-in petticoat to puff it out. I had insisted on at least wearing a pair of black lace panties under it, against Chase’s advice. He might not have minded me giving everybody a peek-a-boo show, but I did. A white lace apron, black thigh-high fishnet stockings and black high heels finished off the outfit. Sure, it was cute, but I wasn’t in the mood.
And that’s what I told Chase as soon as I walked through the door. Chase really wanted to go, but he finally said we could skip the party if I’d be willing to wear the costume for him at home the following day — without panties. In addition, he said I would have to be at his beck and call and do everything he told me to do, or there would be consequences. When I asked him what kind of consequences, he told me that was for him to know and me to find out. I knew he was up to something, but I was too relieved that we didn’t have to go out to worry much about it. I wearily agreed, figuring that all I needed was a good night’s sleep, and I could handle anything.
The next morning, I was rudely awakened by Chase’s deep voice. “Rise and shine, sleepyhead,” he said cheerily.
I didn’t want to. It was Saturday and I wanted to sleep in. But I opened one eye to see Chase dangling the costume in my face. “You’re mine today, babe,” he said. “Get dressed.”
“You’re kidding, right?” I said, turning over and burying my head under the pillow. That was when I felt a sharp smack on my ass. Even through the sheet, it was a decent wallop. I bolted up in the bed and looked at Chase as if he’d lost his mind.
“No, I’m not kidding. Now get up and get dressed, or I’ll put you over my knee and give you a real spanking.” He said this with an assertiveness I had never heard him use with me before. I wasn’t used to Chase ordering me about, but there was a part of me that kind of liked it, and I couldn’t help but wonder how his bare hand would feel against my skin, without the sheet to buffer the sensation. I had a fleeting image of my husband soundly tanning my hide with his open hand, and it made me shiver — not in a bad way.
Okay, I thought, I’d show him I could get into the game too. I took the costume from him and started to get dressed. I took my time while he watched, taking every opportunity to tease him, fondling my breasts as I made sure they were evenly placed within the bodice, with just a bit of my nipples peeking out. Then I began the meticulous task of putting on the stockings one leg at a time, making sure the seams were perfectly straight before attaching them to the lace garter belt.
By the time I’d finished, the bulge in Chase’s pants told me that he had an erection that would choke a horse. I thought he was going to jump on me right then, but instead he got up and said he would be waiting for me in the kitchen, so I could make his breakfast.
After he left I rummaged through my dresser and pulled out the ugliest pair of cotton panties I owned and put them on. Then I went into the kitchen. I moved right to the fridge and opened it, then deliberately made a show of bending over to get out the eggs, knowing that Chase would see the panties I had put on, against his orders.
I could hear the surprise in his voice. “Well, you must really want that spanking,” he said.
A tremor ran through my body as he rose from the table, took the eggs from my hands and placed them on the counter. I didn’t really think he was serious. I thought he’d probably just give me a good hard fucking, and the game would be over.
He moved behind me then, standing close enough for me to feel his stiff cock as he pushed it firmly against my ass. I started to reach back to fondle it, but he stopped my hands and held them in front of me on the counter. I felt his hot breath against my ear as he growled, “You want my cock, don’t you, babe?” He placed my wrists together and held them with one hand as the other one reached under my skirt and delved between my legs. “Now,” he continued, his voice rougher than before, “if you’d left the panties off, like you knew I wanted, I could have shoved my cock right into your hot cunt. I could be fucking you right now, making you scream with pleasure, but you decided to mess with me.”
Then he stepped back and told me to take off the panties. They were soaked with my juices, and my pussy ached for his cock.
“Now you’ll find out what the consequences are for not obeying me,” Chase said. Then he took the panties from me and told me to bend over the counter. “I think you deserve this, don’t you?” he said.
I thought I did, and I spread my legs and waited for him to fill my cunt with his hard cock. You can imagine how stunned I was when instead he swung his big hand, the palm slapping loudly against my ass.
“Chase!” I screamed, but then a second blow landed on the same spot. I felt the renewed sting, but I also felt my pussy clench and my nipples harden. I closed my eyes and waited for the next swat, and when it came I felt cream from my already slick pussy running down my thighs. I wiggled against the table, and my breasts, which were barely contained in the too-small bodice of the dress, popped out. When that happened I found a perverse pleasure in rubbing my hardened nipples against cool surface of the counter.
My highly aroused state did not go unnoticed by Chase. I felt his fingers dance over my clit and slide between my slippery folds, making me quiver and whimper. I needed him to penetrate me — whether with his fingers or his cock, I didn’t care at that point. His fleeting touches only made me burn hotter for him. Then suddenly, his hand was gone, and I heard the sound of him pulling down the zipper on his pants. Seconds later he was teasing my dripping pussy with the fat head of his dick.
Once again I reached back, desperately trying to get a grip on his cock. But Chase was in control now. Not only did he catch my hand, he brought the other around to meet it, and somehow succeeded in binding them together behind me with my wet panties. “Now, slave,” he said, as if talking to a naughty child, “you’ve earned yourself another spanking.”
“Really?” I whined. “Can’t you just fuck me, for God’s sake?”
“First things first, or you’ll never learn to obey your master,” he said. I was about to say something more when Chase’s hand came down on my ass with a resounding smack.
Shocked at the sharp sting, and at my increasing arousal, I moaned as more fluid trickled down my thighs. “That’s one, slave,” he said. “Do you think one is enough?”
“No,” I heard myself whimper. “I’ve been very bad, master — you should give me another — please.”
And he did. As a matter of fact, he gave me five more, delivering them in rapid succession, so that the heat didn’t have a chance to dissipate. When he stopped he pulled me up and turned me to face him. I stood there quivering with need. I had wanted him to fuck me before the spanking, but now my need was almost unbearable. I wanted his cock, and felt as though I’d do anything to get it. I kept my eyes downcast, waiting — waiting for my husband, my master, to tell me what to do next.
Chase placed his hands on my shoulders, and with a firm pressure pushed me to my knees, so I was at eye level with his thick shaft. My mouth watered at the sight, but as much as I wanted to just swallow him down, I waited, again, for him to give me the go-ahead.
“You’ll suck my cock, now, slave,” he said.
With my hands bound behind my back and my pussy throbbing with the need to be fucked hard, I let Chase guide his erect pole deep into my throat and then pull it back out. I’d never sucked his cock without the help of my hands before, and having to rely on just my mouth was more difficult than I would have imagined. But Chase had a grip on my hair and continued to fuck my mouth, making me take him all the way in to the root.
He was soon fucking my mouth with a steady rhythm, picking up speed as he moved my head to meet his punishing thrusts. Saliva ran down my chin and my neck, but I kept up with his strokes, determined to give him a blowjob he wouldn’t forget anytime soon.
“That’s it, slave,” he said, his voice sounding strained. “Suck me deep, suck me hard.”
I let him work my mouth hard, harder than ever before, while I increased the suction each time he pulled back, until he plunged one final time and came with a primal roar, shooting his hot load down my throat. Usually I can handle Chase’s load, but this time he spewed so much come that some of it spilled out of my mouth, running down my chin and dripping onto my tits.
Chase eased back and pulled me to my feet, telling me what a good job I’d done, and promising that if I continued to be a good girl he would fuck me after I made his breakfast.
By the time breakfast was over and Chase finally got around to fucking me, I was one big pile of horny nerves. My cunt was juicier than ever when he sat my tender ass up on the counter and shoved his cock deep inside. And each time he slammed that dick into me, my ass rubbed against the counter and I received a reminder of how he had punished me. The throbbing sensation, mingled with his hard fucking, brought me to a climax that seemed to go on forever.
That weekend I came to terms with something I never thought I’d admit — that after making decisions all day at work, and telling subordinates what to do, it was actually a welcome pleasure to give over complete control to someone else, especially someone I loved and trusted. These days Chase not only rules the house, he also rules me, and I couldn’t be happier.
