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Male Sub Ch. 01

By: John_the_Author



Part 1 — The Sting of The Lash

Carla knocked and entered. She saw her friend Brandy sitting on the couch, dressed in her terrycloth bathrobe. "Hi," she said brightly, putting her magazine down. Brandy waved her to a seat.

"Hi, yourself," she replied as she sat. "Am I interrupting something? It's two in the afternoon and you're still in your housecoat." She then noticed Brandy was wearing high heel shoes. Carla wondered if she had a man in the bedroom, but that would be a rude thing to ask.

"No. I'm waiting for the next forty minutes to go by."

"Uhh… a bathrobe and high heels are… uh… an interesting wardrobe choice," Carla said cautiously.

Brandy smiled. "And you're wondering if I have a man in my bedroom, right?" She didn't need a verbal answer; Carla's small blush did that well enough. 

Actually, the answer is yes and no. Yes, I have a man here, but he's in the basement."

Carla's mind flashed to a mental snapshot of the basement under Brandy's three-bedroom ranch-style house. It had been nicely finished by a previous owner carpeting and paneling, and it was a friendly and inviting place to entertain. "Okay," she said dubiously. "But why are you up here? Seems you should be down there and screwing his brains out."

Brandy's smile became a friendly smirk. "Oh, I'm screwing with him all right! But not how you think."

"Uhh…"

"My male friend is a sexual submissive," she explained. "He's restrained to the central pillar waiting for me to put him through his paces." She stood before Carla could ask a question and dropped her housecoat. Brandy now stood completely naked except for a snug-fitting pair of white cotton bikini panties and the high heels. Then she reached under one of the decorative throw pillows on the couch and pulled out a mean looking black leather whip.

Carla's eyes widened. Ever since seeing a rebroadcast of the Roots miniseries as a kid in the 1980s, she wondered what it would be like to lay some lashes across a man's back. "Do you use that on him?" she inquired, her voice tight with repressed anticipation.

Brandy sensed her excitement. "Not this one. This is made of leather and can actually damage a person. After I get him ready, I switch to a whip made out of rubber without him seeing me. It sounds and feels just like the real thing to him, but it won't cut into his flesh like this one. That way I can wail on him as hard as he needs without sending him to the hospital."

Carla nodded absently, her gaze on the coiled whip as Brandy watched her admire it. She undid the simple knot in the two tails holding it from uncoiling and flicked it deftly toward the kitchen. The body of the blacksnake made a low hissing through the air and the tails made a mean snapping sound, just from the small flick. It was about twelve feet long and looked viciously cruel in a strangely sensuous way.

Brandy gestured; Carla stood and they went out into the garage. Another whip lay coiled on a bench nearby. "This is the rubber one. I suspend him facing the big door and trade the blacksnake for this before I start."

"How many lashes do you give him?" asked Carla, wishing she could see it. Her pussy was quite abuzz from the thought.

"That depends on how bad he's been. Sometimes five, sometimes ten. One time early in his training, I laid down twenty."

"Damn, I'd like to see that!" Carla breathed without realizing it, still admiring the coiled whips with wide eyes.

"Not a problem," Brandy said cheerfully. "Come on."

They went back into the house. "Strip to your panties while I get you a pair of shoes. You have to look the part." Brandy then headed for her bedroom.

Carla sure as hell wasn't going to argue and she got ready quickly. Brandy returned with a pair of high heels. "Remember," she said as Carla slipped them on, "we're in charge. He serves me at my will. He is my plaything and he knows it, so act like this isn't totally new to you."

"Got it."

They strode through the kitchen for the door leading to the basement. Brandy flicked on the light switch at the top; Carla presumed as they went downstairs the darkness helped her submissive male friend feel more helpless. They arrived at the bottom and Carla almost passed out from what she saw.

He was handsome. Brutally handsome and completely naked. He was restrained to the central pillar, on his knees with his back to it. His ankles, elbows and wrists were held behind the pillar with thick black leather cuffs. His mouth was filled with a bright red ball gag; Carla loved the way his sensuous lips straddled the sphere of the device. Even though his penis was soft at the moment, it hung down an amazing four inches. He had to be a bodybuilder; his muscles were impressively large and nicely defined. Even on his knees, he came close to her bustline. "Damn, Brandy!" she exclaimed, forgetting herself for a moment. "He could snap you in two!"

Which was true; he was over six feet tall and 200+ pounds of muscle. Brandy was four-feet-eleven and ninety-eight pounds wringing wet. "But that's why he submits to me," she cooed as much to him as her friend, closing the space between them with a seductive stride. "He gets off having a little Mistress like me dominating a muscular giant like him. Don't you, slave?"

He nodded his agreement. Brandy's training specified he wasn't to attempt speech while gagged, even if asked a direct question.

"How big does his cock get?" Carla thought it a personal question, but what the hell—if she was showing him off naked like this, she figured almost anything was allowed. Her ex-husband Roy had a rather pathetic cock, getting only four inches long when fully hard. But her submissive's cock was four inches long hanging there flaccid! It has to be a monster when it's up! she thought in awe.

"He'll show you," said Brandy as she brought a footstool from behind the pillar. She stepped onto it and raised her left thigh parallel to the floor, then pressed her panty-covered pussy into his face. Her submissive promptly got busy sniffing and nuzzling her bush, pulling the scent of his Mistress' genitals deep into his nasal passages.

Carla watched the crotch groveling and his manrod. Within seconds it started to swell. Within more seconds it was a surprising seven inches long and as big around as a soup can! Meanwhile, Brandy looked down on him as he continued to savor the scent of her pussy, idly stroking his hair. "Does all that fit inside you?" she asked, her voice quaking with sexual energy.

"Oh, yeah. But only when he's good. I control the amount of pussy he gets. He's only allowed to climax inside me once a week. That's one way I keep him at my beck-and-call."

Brandy gestured her closer, ignoring the ongoing crotch groveling for the moment. "But I use his pecker as I see fit. I spread-eagle him on the bed and ride him as much as I want, but he can't come without my permission. If he does, he gets punished."

"Punished how?"

"Ten lashes and an hour of hang time to think about what he did."

Carla presumed hang time meant leaving him tied up and dangling by his wrists after he got his lashes. "Do you use crotchless panties when you spread-eagle him?"

"No. I switch to a bra before taking off the panties. A Mistress never appears totally naked before her slave. Oh, and I don't let him watch as I take them down. A slave must never watch his Mistress undress."

"Got it."

"He only watches me drop my panties on Fridays, which is when he gets to have his orgasm," Brandy added. "I set a timer and he's free to make love to me as he needs and sees fit until it goes off. If he's good, he gets thirty minutes. If he's really good, he gets forty-five. If he's the best sex slave ever to walk planet Earth, he gets a full hour."

She stepped down from the footstool; her sub followed her crotch until he reached the limit of his restraints. She placed the blacksnake around his neck; the thought crossed Carla's mind that it was merely a prop to further their scenario than anything else. "Time to go up to the garage, slave," Brandy told him meanwhile as she began releasing his cuffs. "We're going to give my friend a demonstration of how a Mistress whips her slave."

The slave was standing in a moment and he put his hands behind his back without an order. Carla presumed doing so was part of his training. Once his wrists were crossed and secured, Brandy gestured her up the stairs. The slave—she didn't know his name—followed both; Carla had no doubt he was admiring their legs and panty-clad asses as he climbed the steps after them.

They entered the garage. He went straight to the center of the floor and faced the roll-up door without being told. Carla wondered if he was glad the windows had been blanked out with white cardboard. Meanwhile, Brandy knelt behind his tight and muscular butt and buckled a short spreader bar between his ankles. Then she released his wrists cuffs; once free of them, he brought his hands around front and held his wrists together again, ready for his Mistress. Brandy looped a rope around them seven times and wrapped the rope three times around the bindings. Then she fed the far end into the bindings and pulled the entire length through. He stood passively as she went to the far wall, got a ladder and opened it before him. Brandy hung the coiled blacksnake from the paint can shelf and climbed up. Carla saw him run his appreciating eyes over her fit, taut and lithe nudity as she fed the long end through a pulley. Then she climbed down again and took the rope to a hand-cranked boat trailer winch mounted on the wall next to the door to the kitchen. The rope was attached to it and she started cranking.

Slowly but surely his arms were drawn upward. Brandy stopped cranking just after his heels came off the floor. She grabbed he whip and moved the ladder out of the way by leaning it against the roll-up door. Then, pretending to ignore him, she turned profile to him and made the whip ready—she uncoiled it with a hard flick toward the far wall. The blacksnake swished and made a loud and menacing snap. She gathered it up again as she strode imperiously around behind him, looking unconcerned about what was going to happen.

Carla slid her hand into her panties and clawed mercilessly at her soaking pussy. She watched Brandy silently exchange the blacksnake for the rubber version. She noticed her friend's slave wasn't struggling to get away or whimpering for mercy. He merely stood there and waited for it to begin.

Brandy stood a specific distance behind him, raised her whip arms to horizontal and sighted her target. Then she pulled back and laid down his first lash.

Crack!

Carla watched it land. Her sub flinched as his back straightened slightly, but he settled back after a couple of seconds. He breathing was regular and controlled, and a new red stripe decorated his naked back. She wondered if he detected the slightly higher pitch the swish of the rubber whip made in comparison to the blacksnake.

Brandy laid down five more lashes over the next two minutes, applying them slowly as she gave Carla tips and pointers on doing it right. There was a certain technique to use; ignoring it caused a whip wielder to end up doing more damage to herself than anything else. She felt her firm and unsupported B-cups sway with each swing. Her sub flinched with each new lash as another red stripe appeared on his back. He started to sweat a little and Carla was amazed he hadn't started to whimper or scream through his ball gag.

The submissive, Allen, felt each lash land upon him. It stung a bit less than expected and he wondered how many more Mistress Brandy intended to lay down. Bring whipped wasn't his main attraction to sexual submission, but he knew it wasn't his place to question or protest how she used and/or abused him. Their agreement specified he would always retain the right to use their safewords; one hundred ten percent trust was absolutely vital for a BDSM relationship to work. But Allen's lashes were nowhere near what she had inflicted on him before, so he kept his silence and let her proceed with the unearned punishment. Mistress Brandy had a way of making his submissive's trials very much worth it.

Carla watched as Brandy slowly and methodically applied strokes to her hunky submissive. Her pussy was in bad need of attention! She went to where the blacksnake was left, picked it up and inserted the handle into her needy slit. Carla worked it around and scratched the horny itch inside as Brandy laid another lash across her sub's back.

Brandy was taking it easy with the whip. Allen hadn't done anything wrong; this was merely a demonstration of her sexual power over him. He still flinched under each new impact, his skin showed a new red line, and the rubber whip made its usual swish and snap sounds. The very petite Brandy got off having a hunky muscular man submitting to her every sexual whim. Allen got off being controlled by a small woman who possessed a fraction of his height and strength. The arrangement worked well for both.

Carla had an orgasm as Brandy laid down the tenth and final lash. Brandy regarded her friend as she recovered her senses. "So I guess you enjoyed it?" she asked with a dry grin.

"Oh yeah," she breathed, her heart pounding. "Do you suppose I could borrow him sometime?"

"Sorry. Our agreement says I'm not to loan him out to other women. I can put him through his paces in her presence, but I'm not to let you take him home."

Carla was unaware of the standards, agreements, codes of conduct and mores of the BDSM world. She had the thought that a sex slave was just that—a slave. Someone to be owned and used as the owner pleased, the sort of slavery outlawed during the Civil War back in the 1860s. She did not know Allen could call a halt to the scenario by using their agreed-upon safewords.

If she couldn't take him home, she'd have to think of something quick to give him some lashes of her own. Carla struck upon an idea and cocked her head toward the kitchen-to-garage door. "Is that your telephone?"

Brandy hadn't heard the phone ring—since it hadn't—but that didn't mean Carla missed it. She put the rubber whip on the bench next to the blacksnake and headed for the door.

She was almost inside the house when Carla reached for the rubber whip. The door was just closing as she raised it up as taught and swung it at Brandy's submissive with all her strength.

CRACK!

The report was much louder, lower pitched and vicious than expected. Allen's response was also unexpected; he flinched much harder than before and screamed through his ball gag. Carla blinked, surprised. He shouldn't have reacted like that since he hadn't before. She looked down—

—And saw her hand clutching the blacksnake whip instead of the rubber one.

Brandy tore it from her grasp and tossed it away, blazing mad that her friend had duped her with the ringing phone thing. "What the fucking hell are you doing?!" she snarled. "You know I don't use that one on him!"

"I meant to grab the other one," she protested weakly.

"Didn't you listen to a damned thing I said?!" Brandy demanded. "Look at what you did to him!"

Carla looked. A line of torn-up skin was on her submissive's back. The blacksnake had curled around him, coiled tight for an instant and ripped a thin line of skin off as the swing progressed. Three or four droplets of blood were on the white cardboard, flung there by the whip as it departed. He had his fingers poised to snap if another lash was in the offing; rapid finger snapping was his safeword signal if he was gagged.

"I was going to teach you some more on how to wield the whip properly, but I sure as hell won't now!" Brandy fumed, madder than hell. "If he decides to leave my service, I'll come after you with the blacksnake!"

"But—"

"But nothing! You betrayed my trust. More importantly, you betrayed his trust in me as his Mistress! We're done here!" Brandy grabbed her arm and dragged Carla toward the door. They went into the house and the door was closed.

Allen heard everything. He hadn't realized Mistress switched to another whip when she felt the need to lay down some lashes. He could hear them arguing in the house; knowing their attention was occupied, he pivoted around the vertical rope holding his arms aloft.

He saw the vicious leather whip laying on the floor, the one Mistress Brandy carried around as a symbol of her power during their scenarios. But he saw another one lying on the bench top. It didn't look as mean or as capable as the blacksnake. That other woman must've hit me with the one Mistress carries, he thought. That means the last lash was an unintended mistake.

The argument sounded like it was winding down, so he pivoted back into place and waited for one of them to return. In a moment, he heard the front door open and close. In another moment, he heard a car start up and drive away.

Brandy returned. He waited for her to do or say something; it was his place as her submissive to wait until she spoke to him first or issued a command. Allen could hear her moving around behind him.

Then she placed a footstool before him and stepped up onto it, coming up to his eye level. "I am so sorry Carla hit you with the blacksnake," she said softly and sincerely. Brandy explained switching to the rubber whip without him knowing it, unaware he'd figured it out already. "I understand what she did violates our agreement so I won't be upset if you choose to leave your service to me. Disappointed, yes—but I know it's your right to choose. What she did violated your trust in me." She traced a gentle hand across his cheek. "But I hope you'll forgive and decide to stay. I get as much satisfaction out of controlling you as you do submitting to me."

Allen saw the sincerity in her eyes and nodded his agreement.

"Good, thank you," she said with open and obvious relief. "Let me make it up to you." She brought a blindfold and an unopened condom packet into his field of view.

Allen eyed them. Then his eyes lit up and he nodded eagerly.

Brandy giggled, pleased by his reaction. "Okay." She lowered the blindfold into place and noticed his mantool was already stiffening as she stepped down.

It was a universal rule in the BDSM world that male submissive did not watch their female Mistresses when they were rewarded with oral sex. It wouldn't do for him to look down and see her on her knees before him. And it would never do for him to see his cock in her mouth—he might get a swelled sense of himself.

She gently massaged his manrod into greater stiffness. When it was at full staff, she opened the condom packet and unrolled it into place. Then Brandy opened her dainty mouth, took him in and got busy.

She heard him moan and breathe hard as his blowjob progressed, bobbling her head all over his massive pole. She reflected that she couldn't suck him off as often as she liked; to do so would be stepping out of their Dom/sub arrangement. However, there were times he needed to be rewarded for service above and beyond the call of duty—like getting a lash from the wrong whip by a visiting friend of his Mistress.

After several minutes, Brandy heard him growl low in his throat as he climaxed. She suckled his condom-clad cock heartily, loving the feeling and sexual power of bringing him off while not having to tolerate his fluids in her mouth. She felt his mansteel pumping his seed into the latex sheath around his member. For his part, Allen was glad Mistress had rewarded him with an extra orgasm; he was allowed only one a week. To get an extra was a treat to be savored.

He sagged against his overhead binding rope as his orgasm swept through. Brandy withdrew, removed the spreader bar and condom, stashing one where it belonged and the other in the trash. She waited until he had recovered enough to stand on his own before continuing. After a moment, Allen repositioned himself to remove his weight from his wrists. Brandy climbed the ladder and removed his blindfold. "Enough treats for you today, my pet. It's back down to the basement you go." She stepped down and went to the winch.


Male Sub Ch. 01



Brandy let him down and untied him. Allen placed his hands behind him when clear of the rope, per his training. She put the leather cuffs back in place and buckled them shut. They left the garage, went through the kitchen and back down to the basement. Once there, she ordered him to kneel back against the pillar as before. He obeyed, of course, and Brandy secured him as he was before Carla's arrival.

"I'll be back in a while, pet," she said, stroking his head as if petting a dog. She turned and headed for the staircase.

He made a sound through his ball gag. Brandy turned and he gestured her to return with a motion of his head. She returned. "Yes?"

Allen eyed her panty-covered pussy longingly, making sniffing sounds. Brandy smiled. Men are such simple creatures, she thought with amusement. But she obliged and pulled the footstool from behind the pillar. She stepped up onto it, leveled her left thigh and pressed her crotch into his face. Allen sniffled, nuzzled and waggled his head around against the white cotton covering her daintily trimmed bush, drawing the delightful musk of her deep into his nose. Brandy watched, stroking his head as one would stroke a cat lying on a sun-soaked windowsill.

She stepped down after five minutes, but only because her thigh muscles were getting tired. She knew Allen would pleasure himself on her feminine scent all day and half the night if she let him; it was the only way he could enjoy her pussy more often than the once-weekly orgasm she permitted. His penis was again at full staff, Brandy noticed, as she put the stepstool back.

Allen watched, satisfied, as Mistress Brandy went to the steps and headed upstairs. Her small and tight butt was swinging nicely under her snug white cotton panties in just the way he liked. Her bare, perky boobs swayed slightly with her movements. Then she disappeared from sight and the overhead lights went off a moment later. Allen settled back within his restraints, his cock standing tall and proud, and waited for her to return. He knew it would be great when she did.



Male Sub Ch. 02



Chapter two — Riding the Pole

Author's foreword:

Be sure to read the events in part one, Male Sub Ch. 01 – Sting of the Lash.

*

Three days had passed since Mistress Brandy provided a demonstration of wielding a whip on her hunky male submissive Allen. The thin line of torn up flesh made by Carla with the vicious blacksnake whip was now just a thin red line on his otherwise near-flawless body. Brandy had asked for and received forgiveness for Carla's betrayal of his trust in his petite Mistress.

Business went on as normal between them. She was careful to tone down her demands as the whiplash continued to heal. She didn't want to risk some kind of infection setting in, nor did she want to risk him thinking he was being taken for granted. Brandy didn't want him to believe their relationship was damaged—or worse, a mistake. She didn't want to lose him.

Brandy had been taken aback several months ago when her co-worker Allen had broached the subject to her—dominating a man wasn't something she had ever fantasized about. Undaunted, Allen gave her the addresses of several Internet sites she could visit to get a feel for the idea. He explained she was the type of woman his submissive fantasies revolved around, and would be honored if she considered it.

She did. Now there was no going back.

Dominating Allen was a heady thrill. She had been the smallest of four children and usually the smallest of her classmates in school. That left her vulnerable to be picked on and she grew up feeling powerless. Now twenty-seven, Brandy was 4'11" and 97 pounds, and in undisputed command of a man thirteen inches taller, 140 pounds heavier and more than triple her strength. To keep herself grounded, she likened her Dom/sub relationship to a trainer's relationship with a horse. He could trample her helplessly at any moment if he bolted, but he obeyed her willingly because she took care to respect his feelings, needs and desires.

Allen was naked and ball-gagged, as usual, and restrained to Brandy's bed. His wrists were bound to the upper corners in a spread-eagle arrangement, but he had two short spreader bars between his legs. The shorter one was between his knees, keeping them closer together than normal. The difference in height between Mistress and submissive made straddling him difficult with his legs open as far as the standard spread-eagle. Mistress Brandy liked to secure him to her bed, let him stew for an hour or two in the kind of "lonely bondage" that he liked, then come back and ride his thick cock to her climax.

Allen twisted himself up to look at the clock on the nightstand. He sighed and settled back; it was covered with a teddy bear. She had called him in here at 1:40pm, but he was unaware of the current time. He tested the security of his bindings and found them just as secure as the previous forty tests. His cock was semi-hard; he knew Mistress liked to make him wait before masturbating herself on his erection. He knew it was coming—he just did not know when.

Time went by, enough to cause a noticeable shift in the angle of sunlight coming through the window. He wondered where Mistress was, but he knew she was small and light enough not to cause any footsteps he could hear. The house would occasionally shift just enough to cause a small snap or click that he could hear when he strode from one place to another. But it didn't do that for her. It seemed her house was just as dominated by his diminutive Mistress as he was.

After an undetermined amount of time, Brandy came in. She was dressed as she usually was for Allen's domination—snug fitting and seamless white cotton bikini panties and high heel shoes. She closed the door and, pretending to ignore him with a studied amount of imperious aloofness, flopped the coiled blacksnake onto the mattress beside him. She reached for a dainty, creamy yellow bra and slipped her arms into it, making a big show of both ignoring him and putting it on properly. His cock began to thicken in anticipation as she got ready; he knew she was about to straddle him.

Brandy finished and grabbed a small decorative pillow and flopped it over Allen's face enough to block his line-of-sight. With him unable to see her, Brandy drew down her panties and removed the pillow a moment later.

She climbed onto the bed, kneeling beside him. Then Brandy put the panties over his face. One side of the waist was tucked under his chin and the other over his forehead. The center panel was arranged directly over his nose; he had no choice but to breathe in her heady feminine scent with each breath. Other subs might've found this humiliating but Allen grooved on it. He had taught himself to enjoy the heavenly scent as a way of having her rare and elusive femininity more often.

Still pretending to ignore him, Brandy worked her way south as Allen's cock got very hard very quickly. She threw a leg over him and straddled his stomach, taking care to hold what little weight she had on her legs. Allen tended to get claustrophobic on occasion and she took care not to induce it. She started massaging his iron-like mansteel as if getting a finely calibrated machine ready for use.

Allen lifted his head and admired Mistress Brandy's firm and bare backside, looking through the leg openings of her panties. Her butt was so small and nicely rounded; any heterosexual man would love the chance to run his hands over it. A few might even want to give it a swat or two. He watched that magnificent ass move as she worked his mighty erection with her small hands.

Brandy knew his rod was as hard as it was going to get, but she liked to tease him. This gave him a greater challenge in keeping his orgasm in check. Today was only Tuesday and still had three days to be good before his weekly reward. If he climaxed now, he would be punished and not allowed his scheduled orgasm on Friday. It would be an entire week of being as good a slave as possible before Mistress would give him his time.

Allen strove to be as good a submissive as possible. Being allowed only one orgasm a week obviously meant he could not masturbate. To do so and be caught earned him ten lashes and two hours of hang time to think about his sins. Mistress Brandy made it perfectly clear he was not to play with her toys! He was her toy and, by extension, that meant his penis was her toy too.

Brandy crawled further south and positioned her vagina over his penis. She reached between her legs as she lowered herself, guiding it into her slippery friction. Mistress and slave sighed silently to themselves as each enjoyed the sensations specific to their genders.

Limited of movement, Allen merely lay still and watched as Mistress bobbed up and down upon his impaling shaft. She was facing away from him and the underside of it was caressing her G-spot. The amount of vaginal displacement her slave provided was phenomenal, though she took care not to let him go in deep just yet. Brandy let her lead loll back as she slowly worked her slave's mansteel with her hips, reaching into her bra to fondle and pinch her nipples for added effect.

The stroking was too slow to bring Allen to climax—but that did not mean he wasn't enjoying it. His Mistress had never been married or given birth so her pussy was still nicely tight. He felt the head of his shaft bump into her cervix on occasion. They had measured their genitals early in their arrangement because of concerns in the marked difference in their height; she was just less than five inches deep and he was just over seven inches in length. Care had to be used during fucking to keep from painfully ramming her cervix.

Brandy masturbated on her bound slave's pole. She loved being in control like this as the wanton act of riding him caused sexual energy to course throughout her body with his stalk sliding over her G-spot. She reached down and worked her clit, bouncing more aggressively upon him, moaning and breathing deep and erratic breaths.

Allen felt his testicles tightening up. He knew Mistress would punish him if he climaxed, so he looked toward the window and thought about non-sexual and boring stuff like playing golf, watching NASCAR, mowing the lawn, trimming Brandy's bush. No, dammit, don't think about her bush! Allen chided himself. His brain was starting to drown in testosterone, and the big head was turning more and more of the thinking over to the little head.

Meanwhile, Brandy climaxed. She stirred her hips around, making sure every square millimeter of her interior had felt the delight of his displacement. Allen felt a droplet of her vaginal lubrication run down his sex sword and over his marble bag as a quivering groan tore out of her throat.

Allen watched her climax four more times over the next three minutes. Then, breathing hard and apparently sated, she settled further down and let him penetrate her as deeply as possible. Both felt and luxuriated in the gentle penis-to-cervix contact when it happened. Being in contact with what lay within her mysterious depths was a terrific feeling, but repeatedly banging into it was another matter.

Brandy touched her clit and worked it gently. The sensations from her G-spot, the width of her vaginal displacement, the cervical contact and clitoral stimulation brought her to two more orgasms. Meanwhile, Allen felt her cervix flutter against his penis head and had to grind him thumbnails into his fingers to distract himself. It was a rare and wonderful thing to feel, but it could drive him to his own brink if he didn't have a care.

Finally, Brandy was sated. She was getting ready to dismount when Allen decided he wanted her to hang around for a bit yet. To that end, he clenched his pubic muscles and made his solid erection lurch within her. She felt it, of course, and jumped with surprise. "Startle me, will you?!" she demanded with amusement, speaking over her shoulder. She reached down and pinched his kneecaps in a certain way. He responded by bursting out with ball-gagged laughter and struggled to get away; his knees were very ticklish. Brandy kept it going for ten seconds, enjoying his laughter, his helpless struggling and his still-hard cock rattling around inside her.

Then she stopped and he calmed down. She dismounted him and climbed off the bed. "Bad slave," she said with amused admonishment as she plucked her panties from his face. He smiled around his ball gag as best he could, knowing she had been pleased with his little surprise.

Brandy bent forward and stepped her right foot into her panties. Then she stepped her left foot in and drew them up as Allen watched. The bra was removed and put back where she'd found it. She picked up the coiled whip and shook it at him with a semi-menacing air. "You get to stay there for an extra hour for startling me, you bad slave!"

That sounds just fine to me! Allen thought, getting exactly what he wanted. He struggled momentarily against his ever-present bondage, appearing to protest. His Mistress smirked to herself, slipped her imperious and aloof air back into place and left the bedroom to fix herself a snack.

Allen watched her firm panty-clad butt sway side-to-side as she strolled out. Then he settled back to enjoy the feeling of his submission and the lonely bondage he liked as he waited for her to return.

*

Coming soon — Male Sub Ch 03 – The Tongue Job



Male Sub Ch. 03



Part three — The Tongue Job

Author's foreword—

Be sure to read Male Sub Ch 01 — Sting of the Lash and Male Sub Ch 02 — Riding the Pole. Also look for my most recently posted story Eyewitness to Orgasm about kinky BDSM games in a gynecologist's office.

Speculum, anyone? :-)

* * * * * * *

It was early evening at Brandy's house. She was sitting in her recliner, naked save for her white cotton panties and high heels. Allen was completely naked and kneeling on the thin pad on the floor beside her chair. She had decided after dinner to let him keep his ball gag out; it now hung around his neck by the strap. The news was on the TV as their meal digested.

Allen wondered if Mistress had anything planned tonight.

Brandy had only half of her attention on the TV. She was running options through her mind as for how to put Allen through his paces. He had been a good slave so far and it was looking like he would earn his time on Friday. She was glad because he could come up with some pretty delightful things to do with her body when he had earned his weekly time of sexual equality.

The top of the hour was approaching. Allen knew from experience she would watch the next program if she let more than three minutes of it pass. If she decided the program was of interest, it would be another hour before they would indulge their BDSM games. He hoped the pre-program tease wouldn't interest her.

The tease came and none of the four talking points grained her attention. She yawned, pointed the remote and turned off the TV. Allen felt his penis start to thicken in anticipation of going downstairs shortly.

Brandy grabbed a magazine and opened its cover. She settled back to read but her eye caught upon a tampon ad, making her realize her period was due in a few days. All of their games came to a halt then for obvious reasons so she decided they better get in what scenarios they could before the crimson wave arrived.

"Carry me to the bedroom, slave," she ordered.

"Yes, Mistress."

Allen stood and scooped the petite Brandy out of the recliner. She grabbed the magazine and the ever-present blacksnake whip. "Take me to the dresser when we get there," she added en route.

He carried her into the bedroom and walked up to the dresser. Brandy opened the second drawer while still cradled in his arms and removed a bra. "Now carry me downstairs, slave." Allen turned and backtracked through the living room to enter the kitchen. On the other side of that was the staircase to the basement.

His cock was hard and pointing the way. Mistress Brandy only wore a bra when she wanted him to do something with her pussy. If the bra was on, her panties were off—that spelled good times for him! They arrived at the bottom of the steps and he stopped. His Mistress was a stickler for details; she said to carry her downstairs and nothing else, so he stopped until he was given more instructions.

"Carry me to the gyno table and put me down."

Brandy and Allen had found an old antique gynecologist's table at a flea market shortly after starting their Dom/sub relationship. It was quite handy for many of their games. Allen knew what it felt like to be tied to it while blindfolded and gagged, his legs open while his Mistress examined his genitals for defects real or imagined. He felt his cock approaching full staff.

Allen put her down. She parked the magazine and blacksnake on the table next to the gyno table and pulled a stool out from under it with her foot. "Sit."

Brandy went to the central pillar and retrieved a pair of leather cuffs. "Hands behind you," she ordered. Allen complied and they were put in place, securing his wrists crossed behind him. Then while standing behind him, she put on the bra and slid the panties down her shapely legs.

She hopped up onto the gyno table and put her feet in the stirrups. Her legs were open wide with her knees up, making an "M" shape. She settled back and got comfortable. "Get your tongue busy," Brandy ordered, gesturing him closer. "Standard rules apply and don't stop until I say so."

"Yes, Mistress," he answered, rolling the stool closer. He lowered his head and began to feast on her snatch.

Allen had taught himself to love eating her pussy. His Mistress only allowed him one orgasm a week and he was pleased to get whatever access she would allow. If that meant groveling at her crotch just to enjoy its scent or licking her slit until his tongue fell off—so be it. He would take what she cared to give him.

Brandy watched as he snacked on her slot. She loved his sense of servitude and how he loved to demonstrate it for her. His warm and scratchy tongue felt divine on her privates as his breathing gently stirred the strands of her carefully trimmed pubic thatch. Part of their Dom/sub arrangement required her to keep herself properly maintained—only freaks liked to slurp upon a nasty slot. Besides, he happily trimmed her shrubbery for her and was allowed to express his creative side while doing so. At one time or another, Allen had trimmed it into the shape of a lightning bolt, a downward pointing arrow and a mushroom. The last design caused much amusement for her. "Are you trying to tell me my pussy is so nasty I could grow mushrooms in my panties?!" she demanded with a laugh. He laughed as well and assured her he wasn't.

Allen felt his aching cock twitch and throb as he breathed in her feminine scent. The taste and texture of her matched the light airiness of her scent. He heard her pick up the magazine and begin to read as he continued to massage her with his tongue.

It was a relaxing feeling. His gentle licking eased away the general stresses of everyday life. His "standard orders" included staying away from her clitoris until specifically ordered to indulge on it. This kept her from getting too horny and letting him get away with things he wasn't supposed to. Early on, he had licked her where he pleased and had gotten her quite hot. In that heat she'd ordered him to fuck her as hard as possible. He did and ignored the fact he wasn't allowed to climax since it wasn't Friday—after all, the fucking was for her pleasure, not his! He got away with it the first two times, but she detected a pattern after the third time he'd brought her to a frenzy. Brandy confronted him and he regretfully admitted his sins. She promptly trotted him up to the garage, rigging him up and laid down twenty of the most brutal lashes the rubber whip could inflict. Then she created the idea of "hang time" by leaving him suspended by his wrists in the whipping position so he could think about what he had done. She left him there for two hours for his first time. After that, she added to her standard orders and declared her clit off limits until actually ordered to pleasure it.

Allen glanced up toward her face now and then, but the magazine blocked his view. Still, he had plenty to look at down there—her flat and toned tummy, the underside of her bra, her pretty cup-like navel and the dishwater blonde pubic shrubbery just under his nose. He twisted his head sideways a bit to more fully suckle one of her vaginal lips. His cock was achingly stiff and he wanted to massage it but his hands were restrained behind his back.

Brandy felt his exploring tongue search the most intimate recesses of her gender. She also felt her vagina oiling up inside; she'd need some serious vibrator work before bed tonight. It wouldn't be wise to ride his pole after a long tongue job as he might climax despite warnings of punishment. It would never do to admit she needed him to earn his time as much as he did.

Time passed as Allen kept busy. Brandy got more and more relaxed as the mellow feeling of his actions continued. Finally she let the open magazine flop limply onto her face as she dozed off.

Allen kept right on snacking her snatch—Mistress might be faking sleep to test whether or not he would stop or continue as ordered. To stop and be caught would risk withdrawal of his earned equality on Friday. While it was true his erection found itself lodged in her sweet pussy on the average of eight times a week, he knew he was still only allowed that one orgasm. An unauthorized orgasm earned him withdrawal of his Friday privileges, ten lashes and an hour of hang time. Allen knew the rubber whip wouldn't cut his skin no matter what, but it could still deliver one helluva sting if wielded strongly enough. The one and only time he'd gotten twenty lashes was proof enough of that; Mistress had been totally pissed off at having her clit taken advantage of, and she swung the whip with all the strength her diminutive body could muster!

More time went by as he kept his mouth busy on her mound. He wondered how long he'd been at it. Though it shouldn't have mattered, Allen paused and faked a couple of coughs while looking toward the clock. He discovered he'd been eating her for nearly two hours.

His tongue and jaw felt tired as he resumed his duties. It was obvious Mistress had fallen asleep, but she had not told him to stop. Without possession of a stop order, he of course had to keep going. Following her orders to the letter would run the risk of eating her pussy all night.

On top of that, tomorrow was a workday.

Allen was in a quandary. He needed sleep as well if he was to function effectively at work. But she hadn't given him a timeframe—his orders were just to lick her until further notice. Stopping against her orders got him punished.

He weighed his options as his ever-active tongue kept wagging, trying to decide which orders to violate. He could simply stop and wake her up, explain himself and hope for the best. Or he could violate her standard orders and hope her sexual stimulation woke her up for him. Allen chose the latter since it maintained his mouth-on-pussy time.

A few seconds passed as he watched for a reaction. Then her inner leg muscles quivered and flexed with tiny tremors. He promptly backed off and went back to her nether lips. The quivers settled.

He let a minute go by and raised his head to her clit again. He teased it gently with just the tip of his tongue, just as he knew she liked. Brandy's inner leg tremors came more quickly and were followed by a slight tensing of her lower torso. Allen lowered his head again and tried to look innocent.

Another minute went by without her appearing to awaken. Allen rose up again, puckered his lips and gently sucked on her clitoris. His cock ached and his back was sore from bending forward for more than two hours. Enough was enough—even though that was not his call.

Her leg muscle quivers and her lower abdomen heaved at the same time. Allen heard a snort and a slight sniff under the magazine as he moved away from her forbidden clitoris. Her body relaxed again.

Allen knew he was pushing his luck. He had to stimulate her enough to awaken her yet not let it look like that's what he was doing. It was past nine o'clock and they had to get up at six the next morning. He kept his tongue patrolling her tasty feminine groove as he plotted his next move.

He was not aware, however, that his last round had awakened her; Mistress was playing possum under the magazine. She knew she had dozed off but she wanted to see how well her sex slave conducted himself without reprisals looming over his head.

A couple of minutes ticked by, them Brandy felt him venture up her slit before brushing his tongue over her clit by supposed accident. Lightning bolts flew throughout her body; it took a lot of willpower to keep herself poised as if still asleep. She reflected on how this evening's scenario had morphed into a cat-and-mouse game—the mouse was Allen, her clit was the cheese and she was the cat guarding the forbidden cheese. She smiled with amusement under the magazine still sprawled across her face.

Brandy patiently waited for him to sneak another lick of her clit. Her pussy was well awash her lubrication and his saliva; she was more than prepared for them to call it a night. She was pleased with his efforts tonight and gave serious thought to giving him ninety minutes of sexual liberty on Friday, instead of the usual sixty.

Fifteen more minutes went by as Allen licked his Mistress' genitals as Brady faked sleep. She waited for him to sneak in another clitoris lick as she happily grooved upon his talented tongue. But he never tried. Finally, Brandy acted like she was waking up by snorting and moving like she was about to stretch. She pulled the magazine off her face and looked down at her submissive. Then she glanced at the clock. "Have you been busy the entire three hours?"

Allen raised his head. "Yes, Mistress." Small pause. "Well, I had to cough once or twice."

Brandy didn't remember hearing a cough; this confirmed she had indeed dozed off.

"You said to keep going until you ordered me to stop, Mistress," Allen added. "I did just that."

She looked at him askance. "And if I'd have stayed asleep all night?"

"Then I would have stated busy all night, just like you ordered," he replied with just a trace of indignation about her having to ask.

That sounded unlikely but there was no way it could be proven until it happened. Brandy gestured him back as she pulled her spread legs out of the stirrups. "You did a great job tonight, my slave," she said lovingly. "There might be an extra something for you on Friday."

"You are most generous, my Mistress."

Brandy uncuffed him, fetched the magazine, the panties and the blacksnake before ordering him to carry her upstairs. They secured the house for the night and retired to bed.

Coming soon! Male Sub Ch 04 — Friday's Reward.



Male Sub Ch. 04



Author's Foreword—

This is part four of my Male Submissive series; check out the three previous postings here on Literotica. This is my sixth posting, so instead of me telling you the titles of everything else I've written, it'd be easier and quicker for you to visit my profile and check the archives. Feel free to vote and leave a comment.

Enjoy!

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Part four — Friday's Reward

It was seven in the evening on Friday. Mistress Brandy's submissive Allen was kneeling in the center of her living room as he waited for her to finish the weekly tally. He had been there better than twenty minutes, heels touching his buttocks and his hands flat atop his thighs. His head was bowed and he would hold that pose until his petite Mistress returned.

He ran the events of the past week through his mind. On Saturday, Mistress had given her friend Carla a demonstration of how to whip a submissive man. But Carla abused her friend's trust and took a lash at him without authorization. Mistress apologized and asked forgiveness—a rarity in the BDSM world—and provided him a blowjob as a means of making amends. The orgasm he'd had by way of her dainty mouth was an extra, a treat. There was no misbehavior that day.

On Monday, Mistress had restrained him spread-eagle on her bed and rode his erect rod to her pleasure. She was about to dismount but he flexed a certain set of lower abdomen muscles to make his boner lurch within her enveloping nest. Mistress was more surprised and amused than anything else and treated him to an extra hour in the lonely bondage he liked. No misbehavior that day either.

On Wednesday, Mistress had ordered him to lick her pussy until further notice. He accomplished this for three hours steady, even though she dozed off while he carried out her orders. He had to employ a bit of subterfuge to wake her up, lest he have to tongue-tickle her tender twat all night long. The ploy worked and Mistress didn't know her standard orders for pussy licking had been bent just a little. As far as she knew, there was no misbehavior that day either. She had even pointed out the possibility of an increased reward when Friday came, after she allowed him to rest his tongue.

In sum—his Mistress was playing with his head. His behavior had been exemplary the entire past week, but she was making him sweat out the computation process simply to exert her control over him.

A few minutes later, Allen heard the tapping of her high heel shoes on the hardwood floors as she approached. They stopped and silence reigned for several long seconds. Then: "I have made my decision, slave."

Allen looked up. His Mistress stood in the archway leading to the bedrooms, her weight cocked off to one side with her left hand poised on her hip. Her right hand clutched the coiled blacksnake whip she carried as a prop to symbolize and solidify her position of power. Her petite body looked damned sexy clad in just the white cotton bikini panties they preferred over the full-on leather dominatrix gear.

"Do you believe you have performed well this week, my slave?"

"My opinions are irrelevant to those of my Mistress," he said humbly.

"Yes they are," said Brandy. "I'm glad you realize that."

"I am committed to serve my beautiful Mistress in the way she specifies," Allen added. "These I will carry out until you deem me unfit to continue that service."

Brandy took note of the "beautiful" reference and was pleased by it, although she outwardly ignored it. "This week's decision was difficult."

Allen said nothing since he hadn't been asked a question.

Brandy flexed the fingers of her right hand, letting the whip uncoil as it dropped to the floor. Then she strutted imperiously toward him as the whip played out behind her like a child pulling a string in front of a playful kitten. "You look forward to your weekly orgasm, don't you?" she asked as she began to strut a slow circle around where he knelt.

"Yes I do, Mistress."

She rounded his feet and started up his left flank. "Is it because you need the orgasm or because you need my pussy?"

"Both, Mistress."

"But any woman can provide you with her pussy, true?"

"That is true, Mistress—but there is only one of you."

"If I said you could have your weekly orgasm but you'd have to fuck a slave girl to get it, would you do it?"

Allen wondered if the question was rhetorical or serious. "I would obey your orders, of course, Mistress."

"But you have a preference?"

"I prefer your pussy, Mistress, presuming I am allowed the honor of choice."

"I know of another Mistress who has a female slave," Brandy said, telling him a lie. This was merely a way of playing with his head some more; they worked together and took great pains to keep their Cosa Nostra private. Cosa Nostra is an Italian saying used by the Mafia that translates as "this thing of ours."

"I understand, Mistress," he said. Actually, he did not—Allen had no clue about who, how or where this other Mistress was. They worked hard to keep their thing out of the workplace so as not to offend their bland, vanilla-thinking coworkers. To hook up with another Mistress required coming out to her in the first place, something neither he nor Brandy would do.

"We're thinking of getting together and she says her slave has a very talented pussy," Brandy went on. "In fact, we have a contest set up. She will order her slave to make you climax and I will order you not to! Doesn't that sound like fun?"

Allen knew he'd enjoy the challenge—especially if it meant being lodged in a talented vagina doing its best to rip a climax from him against his will. "Yes, Mistress."

"Whichever slave disobeys gets five lashes," Brandy pointed out, still slowly strutting a circle around him, the uncoiled blacksnake slithering along on the floor behind her. "If she doesn't bring you off, you get to punish her. But if she makes you orgasm, she'll lash you."

That means each slave will be hard-pressed to do their absolute best to make sure they don't end up under the lash, Allen thought. Either way, someone was going to get it. "I understand, Mistress."

Brandy looked down on her submissive as she continued she slow, seductive strut around him. She watched him happily admire the movements of her legs, the sway of her panty-clad ass and the slithering whip deployed out behind her. "Are you curious about your rewards tonight, slave?"

"Yes, Mistress."

Brandy finished another lap and stopped directly in front of him, standing less than a foot away. He saw her only from the waist down; her flat, toned tummy was just above the white triangular shape of her panties. Her nest was just behind the lower portion of them and he longed to take them down, open her legs and drive his pole into it. Allen knew she was playing a psychological power trip on him, solidifying her control over his submission. His cock was already three-quarters hard.

"You want to ask if you've been approved for your weekly orgasm?"

"I wish to ask, Mistress. But I also wish to demonstrate patience to you."

She smiled—Allen demonstrated patience every minute of every day. Every minute he denied himself an orgasm at his own hand was in itself a demonstration of that patience. Brandy knew he knew he was getting his reward; he had a memory, after all, and he knew no sins had been committed.

Allen saw the whip's handle drop to the floor. "Take me into the bedroom, Allen, and claim your reward of ninety minutes," said Brandy with a sexual purr.

He stood and pulled her into a tight hug, kissing her deep. Then he scooped her off her feet and headed for the bedroom.

Allen put her on the neatly made bed, reached for her feet and removed her high heels. Then he reached under her and pulled her panties down and off. "Suck my cock until it's good and hard, then we'll move to the sawhorse."

Brandy got into all fours and took his erection in. Allen watched as she slathered his man-pole with open abandon. She loved the feeling of a cock in her mouth; the way it twitched and throbbed as she worked it excited her no end. The way he stroked her hair while she was busy was also quite nice.

He stopped her after a few minutes and had her get on the sawhorse. Because of the thirteen-inch discrepancy in their height, mechanical assistance was needed to do it doggie-style. The sawhorse was specially built for that with a padded crosspiece, padded cups mounted on one set of legs for her knees and an old pair of bicycle handlebars on the other end for her stability. They faced a mirror while using it—Allen loved to watch the needy expressions on her face as he worked her slit. She got into position, then he got behind her and slipped himself in.

Despite not having an orgasm since Saturday, Allen paced himself as he fucked her. Her expressions of passion in the mirror were a wonder to behold, and her panting and mewling squeaks were a treat for his ears. Every now and then her back hitched upwards like a cat being petted when an orgasm claimed momentary control. "Harder," she croaked, her voice desperate. Allen grabbed her hips and worked her pussy more aggressively. She climaxed three more times, panting and quivering between each, her firm B-cup boobs swaying freely from her chest.

Allen was losing control as his orgasm approached. He pounded into harder still and was rewarded a moment later. Brandy felt his semen leap into her as his thrusts became faltering. A glance in the mirror confirmed his orgasm. However, she knew he was in his mid-twenties and would recharge after a rest.

Allen reclined upon her back as they rested. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah," she answered, feeling his hands trail all over her.

After a couple of minutes, Allen straightened himself and plucked her off the sawhorse. Part of Brandy's mind loved it when he picked her up and carried her; it touched her deeply hidden inner child and made her feel safe and content. But she knew it was also a silent demonstration that he was by far the more powerful member of their arrangement. Both knew he could revolt if she took his submissiveness for granted, and she would be powerless to resist if he decided to claim use of her pussy without permission.

Allen laid her out upon the bed and reclined beside her. They made out and fondled each other as they waited for his testicles to recharge. He nibbled her nipples and caressed her clit with his talented fingers. Brandy thrashed around in a very unladylike manner as his jolts of pleasure coursed through her petite, sexy body. She wished he'd hurry up and get between her legs already, but that would require her giving an order. He had earned his time to make love to her as he saw fit, so she said nothing and took comfort in giving up control for a while.

Allen watched as she writhingly danced around his clit-strumming fingers. Her back arched to help her cunny meet his ministrations. Her voice cooed, groaned and gasped without her consent, getting lost in the moment.

"Is your cock hard yet?" she panted. "I need your cock, Allen!"

"In a minute," he cooed, loving his fleeting sense of control. If she could ride his cock and tease him to the brink merely to let him cool down, then he could do it too. He planned to masturbate her right up to the razor's edge of climax, back off and let cool before building her up again. This assured she'd go off like a Saturn V rocket when he plugged his pecker into her again.

Brandy approached her orgasmic threshold and prepared to cross when Allen stilled his fingers. Her sexual embers cooled as he mollified her a bit with some nipple sucking. Some of her tension fled. Then he started stroking her clit again and her tension returned.

A few moments passed as the threshold approached again. Brandy hoped he'd keep his digits moving and let her cross this time—but again he stilled his fingers at just the wrong moment. She climbed a small way down from the peak she hadn't been allowed to conquer, only to have his fingers start again and force her to climb toward the summit yet again.

"Oh, I'm gonna fuckin' strangle you!" she panted, aggravated by his teasing even as she was a bit amused by her understanding of it. Brandy knew she'd done likewise to him more times than she could count. Their weekly sexual equality served as a reminder that she had better be able to get as good as she gave!

"Your hands are too small to go all the way around my neck," he pointed out, "so use your cunt muscles to strangle my cock when I get in there again." Allen surely enjoyed having his Mistress temporarily at his mercy. He watched as Brandy approached her orgasmic threshold once again, only to still his fingers at the edge of passage.

Brandy darted her hand down and grabbed his hard-like-granite cock. "Get it in me now!" she snarled, her eyes wide and alive with need and desperation. Allen did not move to comply; he merely started his fingers strumming again. Brandy's coherency fled as he manipulated her excitable clitoris to their benefit.

He was building her up yet again with one hand as he reached toward the headboard with the other. He grabbed her wand vibrator and parked it within easy reach once he got between her legs again. Then Allen hoisted himself up as Brandy eagerly lowered her nearest leg to facilitate him.

Allen shoved himself into her with no thought of gentleness.

He thrust into her with great and enthusiastic energy as he reached for the wand vibrator. Brandy was too busy and too dizzy with her cravings to realize what he was doing. She felt the buzzing head of the wand touch her clitoris as his cock played like a piston in a cylinder in the confines of her nest.

Brandy went absolutely nuts. She thrashed, writhed and bounced under him, her hips pinned to the mattress by his weight and penetrating genitals. She was like a live butterfly skewered by a straight pin to a display board, fluttering its wings frantically as it tried without success to fly away.

Then every muscle in her petite body went tightly rigid as a rafter-rattling orgasm smashed into her.

Allen watched her back arch upwards. He heard her toe joints snap from being curled so hard. Only her feet, buttocks and the back of her head remained in contact with the mattress as a powerful series of orgasms plowed through her like a tornado through a house of cards. He delighted in the way her vaginal muscles clenched his thrusting manliness as orgasms piled up thick and fast.

Brandy was involved with her seventh climax when Allen went off and dumped his second load of semen into the intimate pocket of her body.

He collapsed upon her, breathing heavily. She recovered enough of her senses to wrap her arms around him. He moved his arms under her in a likewise gesture more by instinct than actual directed thought. Both rested and came back to Earth after visiting the orbit of Saturn.

"You okay?" she asked.

"Uglumph," was the sound he made in reply.

Brandy giggled; he wasn't quite back into his body after their transcendental departure of ecstasy.

He allowed himself a few more moments of recovery, then pulled himself up to make eye contact. "That's the stuff dreams are made of," he whispered. She smiled and nodded agreement.

Allen dismounted and reclined beside her. Brandy curled up under his cradling arm, enjoying the feeling of being engulfed and protected by his massive muscles. She was like a poodle lying next to a Great Dane but neither cared—it was good to be loved.

It was even better to be understood.

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Coming soon! Male Sub Ch 05 — The Examination



Male Sub Ch. 05



Author's Foreword—

This is my tenth posting to Literotica and my fifth entry in my Male Submissive series. Swing by my profile for an archive of my earlier posting. I also urge you to look for "Shoo Shoo Baby" in the Sci Fi & Fantasy genre; it is my first entry to score both a "Hot" notation and an "Editor's Pick" notation!

Enjoy!

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Male Sub Ch 05 — The Examination

Mistress Brandy watched the news without really seeing the images on the screen. Instead, she was pondering what to do with—and for—her slave Allen. He had been exceptionally good during the past week; at the moment he was mopping her kitchen. He had cooked a surprisingly terrific meal earlier before loading the dishwasher and tidying up the kitchen. Brandy knew this was all part of their Cosa Nostra—an Italian phrase used by the Mafia, which means "this thing of ours"—but she felt his behavior rated a reward as being above and beyond the call of duty.

The problem was that today was Wednesday. She had specified that he could only climax once a week, and that was on Friday. She rode his thick and magnificent cock to her pleasure and his, but he couldn't allow himself to climax without being punished. Brandy knew men lived to spew their seed into a willing pussy, and her willing slave really did deserve a reward. Hence the dilemma—how to balance his reward against her own rules.

Allen finished in the kitchen ten minutes later. He returned to the side of her easy chair and knelt on the cushion placed there for his use. "The kitchen is ready for your inspection, Mistress." She didn't usually inspect his work, but he was hoping she would anyway so he could admire the motion of her mighty fine behind under her white cotton bikini panties.

"I believe I will," she said, standing up. Allen watched the sway of her small and tight ass as she went into the kitchen. She looked around. As usual, he had done a marvelous job. She idly wondered if he had been raised in a secluded convent populated with clean-freak nuns. That would explain his need to submit to a woman and his detail-oriented cleaning practices. Submissive men as hunky, studious, dedicated and fulfilling as him were very rare indeed, and Brandy considered herself fortunate to have him.

She returned to her chair, noting but ignoring the way he watched her panty-clad pussy mound move with her stride. Brandy liked to be admired by him but mostly ignored it as part of their arrangement—let him get his pleasure where he could. "You did very well, my pet," she said fondly, stroking his hair as if petting a pooch. "I believe we'll go downstairs after awhile."

"Yes, Mistress." Allen knew he might—or might not—get a reward for his efforts, something that pleased her first and him second. Eating her pussy was an immense thrill for him; it was soft, warm and delicate, and he enjoyed being allowed access to it. The privilege was for her enjoyment but he got plenty of secondhand pleasure out of tongue-ticking her tenderness.

Time went by as they watched the news. At eight, The O'Reilly Factor came on and Allen tried to interpret his Mistress' intentions with glances at her expressions. If the pre-show tease held any topics of interest to her, it would be another hour before they went downstairs. If not, previous experience dictated they would go right away. He tried to be patient as the anchor discussed his famous Talking Points Memo with his audience.

Brandy had some interest in the topics but not enough to stay and watch. So she waited until the Talking Points Memo was complete before aiming the remote and shutting off the TV. Allen tried to suppress his anticipation as she slid forward to perch on the front of the chair's cushion. "Carry me downstairs, slave."

"Yes, Mistress." He stood and easily plucked Brandy off the chair and cradled her in his massive arms. He carried her through the spiffy kitchen and went downstairs.

He stopped at the bottom and waited for directions. "Take me to the gyno table and put me down." Allen crossed to the antique gynecologist's table they had found at a flea market and put her back on her feet. "It's that time of year again, my slave," she said with a gesture at the table. "You need your examination. Sit down and put your feet in the stirrups."

"Yes, Mistress." Once in place, Brandy pulled his unresisting arms up over his head and fastened his wrists into leather cuffs attached to the opposite of the upright backrest. Then a black leather blindfold was settled in place. A leather belt was buckled over his pelvis like a seat belt and medical-quality beige leather restraints used to secure his ankles to the gyno table's support fixtures. His legs were widely spread and his already half-hard cock and testicles were exposed.

Brandy pulled up a scooter stool and settled her dainty butt upon it. She then drew herself close and prepared to examine her slave's genitals for their general healthiness and defects, real or imagined. Brandy handled his rapidly swelling member with her small but skilled hands, taking great care to look for cleanliness, blemishes of the skin and a pleasing scent. Allen really loved getting such an examination.

Of course Brandy knew this—a good Mistress makes it her business to understand the needs and wants of a submissive under her tutelage. It also gave her a thrill to handle his hard shaft and fondle his balls in the guise of her examination. She remembered the surprise she had felt as a teenager when a boyfriend had allowed her to handle his marble bag for the first time. The erect penis was no surprise courtesy of "the talk" her mother had with her four months before the onset of her first menstruation. The scrotum and the delicate egg-shapes hanging therein, however, were a huge surprise just before becoming a source of fascination for her. Given the chance, Brandy would spend a great deal of time with the testicles before moving on.

Of course, being Allen's Mistress gave her all the time she wanted.

Allen felt his sexual excitement rising. Delicate little fingers turned his rampant manhood this way and that, cradled his sac and carefully probed the testes within, making sure his pubic hair was trimmed to specifications and just exploring in general. He felt his breathing increase unsteadily as his heart pounded harder to supply blood to the penis so it would stiffen even further.

Finally, Brandy was satisfied with her examination—but she was by no means done. She got up and went to a decorative planter near the big-screen TV. From it she pulled a long peacock feather and returned to her perch. Without a word of warning, she began to use that feather to draw softly wafting random patterns on his rock solid erection, concentrating most of her efforts on the head and glans.

Within mere minutes, Allen was breathing hoarsely, trembling with pent-up hormones and twitching within his restraints. He had no idea where the too-soft feather would go next as Mistress brushed it across the penile head, then the shaft, venture down to points of interest on his sac before heading back up his raging, throbbing hardness. She took very great care to use just the outer three millimeters of the feather to stroke the underside of his boner parallel to the urethra.

Smiling to herself, Brandy glanced up at him as his muscles flinched and jerked in involuntary fits and starts. His sensuous lips were parted, his jaw quivered at times, his diaphram clenched and heaved at random intervals, and his nipples stood out stiffly. His penis and testicles were a darker shade than normal from the engorgement of blood his excitement caused. Taking care to be quiet, she slipped her hand into her panties to tend to her pussy. Meanwhile, the other hand stayed occupied with the task of delivering maddeningly light, slow and gentle brush strokes on his mansteel with the feather.

Brandy bided her time. She knew Allen would eventually become excited enough to start pleading for permission to climax. That permission would be denied of course; it was her unwritten rule that permission to climax would be denied if he asked for it. Allen's heavy and erratic breathing had since given way to moans of passion and groans of protest, so it was only a matter of time before his pleading started.

Allen felt his cock was harder than ever felt before. It ached like crazy and he needed the internal massage within the slippery friction of his Mistress' silky sex! Experience taught him, however, that once his needs were voiced, she would find a reason to dent him. It would take every last ounce of his willpower, but he would allow no words of pleading, inquiry or otherwise to be formed. He would satisfy his need to plead by making incoherent gasps and moans.

Brandy looked at the clock and was surprised to see she had been at it nearly an hour! She glanced up at his blindfold-hidden eyes and wondered if he had developed a new strategy; he hadn't uttered a recognizable word since securing him to the gyno table. Part of her admired his intelligence and sense of determination but she needed a plausible reason to deny him as part of their scenario. This would reinforce his sense of her control and make his orgasms just that much more intense on Friday. Brandy glanced at the clock again—it was 8:54pm. She decided that if he made it to nine o'clock, phase one would be complete and phase two would begin. Upon successfully completing phase two, she would grant him permission to masturbate to orgasm. What she had planned had been implemented before and Brandy knew he wasn't exactly fond of it. Still, if he made it without failure or protest, her permission would be his. After the excellent dinner, equally excellent cleaning of the kitchen and holding his tongue now despite his rampant excitement, his orgasm would be well earned.

To deny him anyway ran the risk of making her the kind of cruel and heartless Mistress neither wanted her to be.

Meanwhile, Allen wondered if it was ever going to end! He could feel his own pulse in his painfully stiff erection! It twitched of its own accord as if to escape the cruelly teasing feather. He trembled as if locked in the garage naked during the winter and none of his muscles would obey his commands to be still. Being blindfolded, Allen had no idea of how much time had passed since the start of his examination ordeal. He knew he absolutely must not cave in and start pleading for permission to orgasm. But he felt his willpower crumbling.

Brandy looked at the clock again—it was 9:02pm. She put the feather back in the planter and watched her sex slave as his quivering and trembling settled somewhat. His profoundly erect penis was almost a pale purple and the tip was wet with pre-seminal fluid. She went to his side and removed the blindfold. "Your examination is complete, my pet," she said softly. "I'm pleased to report you're in great health."

"That's hood berry gews—" he paused to clear his throat as Brandy fought down a smile; his horniness made it difficult to form words "—good news, Mistress."

"You handled the exam without complaint," she added as she moved herself closer. "You may suckle my breasts for being so vigilant."

"You are gracious, Mistress," he said as he raised his head to her firm B-cups.

Brandy watched as he suckled and nibbled her, idly stroking his hair as he enjoyed his privilege. Allen made sure to lavish just the right amount of attention on them; Mistress did not like excessive slurping noises or aggressive use of teeth. She silently allowed him two minutes on her left breast before pulling it away and providing the right. Jolts of oral pleasure shook her petite frame.

After his two minutes of right breast time had passed, she pulled away and trailed a gentle hand down his face. "I am well pleased with your behavior tonight," she told him as she released his leg restraints. "There are a few more things you may provide before we call it a night."

"As you wish, Mistress." I am yours to command."

His wrists were released and he stood at her gesture. "Position a stool and a TV tray so you can provide me a seat. Then fetch me a soda."

"Yes, Mistress."

Allen disliked providing her a seat; it was hard on his muscles and made his arms cramp from reduced blood flow. He sensed from past experience, however, that this was leading up to a reward of some kind since she rarely ordered things this strenuous. He positioned the stool and tray as needed and headed upstairs. He returned with a soda in an iced glass, just as his Mistress liked it.

Brandy stood facing the big-screen TV with the stool between it and her as Allen reclined on the floor, his head positioned between her feet. Then he raised his arms straight up. Brandy put his hands on both her ass cheeks and leaned back before putting her feet on the stool. Allen bore her weight on his vertical arms as she got settled to watch TV.

The footstool was needed because of their radial difference in height, and Brandy liked the feeling of his large and strong hands cupping her backside. Meanwhile, Allen enjoyed the view above him—the backs of her thighs, calves and knees, her delightfully small and panty-clad butt, and the unhindered view of her dainty cloth-covered pussy excited him no end. His Mistress did not cross her legs because of stability issues and she made it a point to keep her knees just a bit further apart than normal. Carefully and silently moving his head as needed gained him a view between her legs past her panty-hidden pubic thatch all the way up to her firm tummy, bare breasts and the underside of her chin. It took goodly amounts of strength and internal discipline to hold his arms up like this to bear her weight, but the view was surely worth it!

Brandy watched a re-run of The Bill Engvall Show while sipping her soda and enjoying the solid grip Allen had on her fanny. She didn't need to look to know he was ogling her pussy and wishing it was cradling his raging cock! Men were visually stimulated and she was more than happy to provide what he liked. She registered and ignored the adjustment of his grip on her behind as the show continued.

It was coming up on 9:30pm and the end of the show. Brandy felt his arms tremble every now and then, but he made no verbal protest. The credits started to roll and she turned off the TV. Then she looked between her legs to make eye contact with her slave. "Did you enjoy the show?" she asked with innocence, not meaning the comedic genius of Bill Engvall.

Now there's a loaded question! Allen thought, amused. "I did indeed, Mistress."

She opened her legs wider in the guise of leaning forward; Brandy watched with amusement as Allen's eyes flickered back and forth between eye contact and her panty-covered sex. "There's one other show I wish to see before we go to bed."

Allen wondered about that since she had killed the TV. "Of course, Mistress."

"I wish to see you masturbate to climax."

A huge amount of testosterone was still swimming in his blood after the feather job and spending twenty-plus minutes staring at her crotch. "It would be my honor of course, Mistress."

Brandy brought her feet down and took her weight off his arms. "Proceed," she ordered as she picked up the blacksnake whip.

He reached for his still-hard penis. He urged it to even greater stiffness as he admired his Mistress and her fluidly feminine movements as she uncoiled the blacksnake and appeared to examine its length. Her white cotton bikini panties were just as snug and wrinkle free upon her lovely curves as always, hiding yet enhancing her mound of Venus. Brandy shifted her weight to one side, knowing this would cock off her panties at a rakish angle as her bare and unsupported breasts swayed slightly with her movements. Allen watched it all as his hand pumped his shaft with increasing vigor.

Brandy divided her attention between her slave and the symbol of her power over him. Then she gently flicked the whip away from him, making a soft hiss through the air. The whip's popper made a mild snap of protest when it reached the end of its travel and reversed course. She heard Allen breathe harder as he pumped his man-iron with even more vigor.

His Mistress hadn't specified a set length of time he could pleasure himself, so he forced himself to pace his pumping. He didn't want to climax too soon. The urge to orgasm was becoming harder and harder to control as he forced his mind to think about work, the dentist, his Aunt Jill's false teeth or whatever it took to hold off just awhile longer.

Meanwhile, Brandy got an idea. She strode to a position about twenty inches from her slave's feet. With her back to him, she leveled her whip arm and took aim at the basement's central support pillar. Then, taking care not to unintentionally flick him on the backstroke, she pulled back and swung the whip at the pillar with about twenty percent of her strength.

Allen greedily watched her softly fluid feminine movements as he flogged his log even harder. Her panties clung to her immaculate ass as if appreciating her presence within them. He admired how the material tucked close to her butt cleavage and disappeared between her slender and supple legs, her buttocks enhanced by her high heel shoes. The muscles of her bare back rippled smoothly as she pulled back and sent another whipstroke swishing toward the pillar. Vicious leather met innocent paneling with a hearty snap.

"Harder," Allen heard his voice wheeze without his permission.

Brandy heard but pretended to ignore it. She pulled back and let fly with a strong swing; the pillar sounded like a tree breaking in half when the blacksnake hit it. She reset for another stroke while listening to Allen pump his organ to orgasm.

The sight of Mistress administering a whipping to an unseen slave combined in his mind with the sound effects of each stroke. Her petite and sexy body moved with authority and purpose, clad only in those simple yet sexily demure white panties. The blacksnake looked deadly as it sailed cruelly through the air to taste the unfortunate flesh of its unseen victim. His imagination supplied the sounds of that imaginary victim's screams after each lash was landed. Her butt cheeks clenched as Mistress leaned back to prepare another stroke before propelling herself forward as the lash was administered. The whip caused a small chunk of paneling to come off the pillar; some part of his mind said that was a hunk of human flesh flying away as his overheated imagination supplied the sound of a bloodcurdling scream—

And Allen erupted into a ferociously powerful climax.

Brandy turned and watched as Allen pumped his spurting erection almost too fast to see. He quivered, gasped and growled with release as his semen trickled over his pumping hand and into his pubic hair. Brandy saw that his testicles had shrunken to a mere specimen of itself as they delivered their product at long last. She watched and waited as the last vestiges of his orgasm had its way with him. Then, remembering herself and her position of power and control, Brandy set her body into a position of authority in preparation for when he regained his senses.

Allen stilled his pumping hand and relaxed, still quaking with involuntary shivers as his climax departed. He wiped what juice was on his fingers onto his satisfied shaft before he let it rest; it wouldn't do to get a semen stain on his Mistress' carpet. He concentrated on breathing and trying to remember how to think. After a few seconds, he opened his eyes and saw Mistress facing him. Her weight was cocked to one side with her free hand posed enticingly on her hip, the uncoiled whip dangling from her right hand. "Thank you, Mistress," he remembered to say.




Male Sub Ch. 05



"You earned it with your superior performance tonight. I am well pleased with you, my pet." So saying, she reached for the Kleenex box on the end table beside the gyno table. He plucked a few and used them to mop up his spilled seed.

Allen stood and put the soiled Kleenexes in the trash bin in the utility room. Then he picked up his beloved Mistress and carried her upstairs to bed.

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Coming soon! Male Submissive Chapter Six — The Unexpected Visitor

Copyright © 2008 by the author, John W. Adams, Jr.



Male Sub Ch. 06



Author's Foreword—

This is my twelfth posting to Literotica and the sixth chapter of my Male Submissive series. You are invited to vote and leave your words of either praise or displeasure. Also, feel free to visit my profile to access the archives of my older postings.

Enjoy!

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Male Submissive, Part Six — The Unexpected Visitor

Mistress Brandy was getting spoiled.

At the moment, she was reclined face down upon her bed and getting a massage. Allen's huge and strong hands worked her smooth flesh with skill and tenderness. He had studied massage techniques from several websites and knew what to do and what to avoid. His petite Mistress reveled in his attention to detail and the way he seemed to get more than enough enjoyment out of pleasing her. It sometimes made her sad to think of the millions of other women around the world missing out on what she had the pleasure of enjoying.

Allen stroked her fit and taut body, admiring her naked curves as the friction of his caresses warmed her skin and his. He was naked and she was clad in her white cotton bikini panties as usual; Allen felt his semi-hard cock swaying around as he maintained his efforts. Their Dom/sub relationship had been going on for ten months now and each was well in tune with what the other expected and needed.

People at work had long since been wondering about them. They knew Allen and Brandy were involved, but something about it was just the slightest bit off. No one could put their finger on it. They had their breaks together and it was always Allen who fetched food and drinks from their lunchbox and laid everything out on their table. He never complained or refused to fetch her a soda from the vending machines, even if he was eating. He always walked to the side and one step behind his diminutive co-worker like an orthodox Muslim woman would for her husband. Someone asked him about that in Brandy's presence and he merely looked innocent and said it was his way of checking out her ass whenever he wanted. Brandy was fine with that; their sex life was none of anyone else's business and, more importantly, Allen would be deeply and needlessly humiliated if his submissive status became common knowledge. It might even damage his chances of advancement within the company if somebody sexually uptight and in a position of power found out. To that end, Brandy had issued standing orders that granted him permission to interact with her as equals during working hours. Allen served her as a sex slave when the risk of discovery was minimal, like fetching food and running small errands on request—let their co-workers wonder. It would keep them occupied.

Allen finished her shoulders and back. Then he moved down to start on her feet and work his way up her legs one at a time. Mistress had really dainty and pretty feet; Allen knew he didn't have a foot fetish but he enjoyed seeing those beauties in her high heels. She liked to have him paint her toenails just to give him a reason to handle and admire them up close. He took note of her content, lazy smile on her face as he slowly massaged his way up her second leg. "You look content, Mistress."

"Only a cat on a sunny window ledge would be more content right now," sighed Brandy. "You have hands of gold, my pet."

"Thank you, Mistress. Your praise honors me. If I may, I am almost done here. Do you have any other ways I might serve you?"

Brandy ran her options through her head as his hands worked her thigh over in grand fashion. It had been awhile since he'd given her a tongue job and her period was due halfway through next week. Their agreement specified no oral sex until at least two days after her flow had ceased. "I'm content for the moment, pet. Fix yourself a snack if you want when you're done. Then fix me something and put it on the table next to the gyno bench downstairs."

Allen felt his cock stiffen—his mouth between her legs was a prized treat. "Yes, Mistress. May I inquire about the timeframe?"

Brandy was content and just a bit sleepy from the massage, so she was feeling generous. "Whenever you're ready."

"Yes, Mistress," he said as he finished. Allen gently tugged at the hem of her panties' leg openings to straighten the wrinkles out of the white cotton hiding yet enhancing her posterior. "I have finished, Mistress."

"Okay. You're dismissed."

Allen carefully rose from his one-legged kneel on the mattress so as not to jostle her. He quietly padded into the kitchen, fighting down the urge to massage his aching manrod. It did need some attention but Mistress would be most displeased if he caved to temptation and masturbated. He fixed himself a chicken salad sandwich and a Coke and ignored the sizzling he felt in his testicles. Friday would get here soon enough.

Having an open-ended timeframe was moderately rare and he took advantage. Allen logged onto the computer and checked his e-mails. Then he surfed three or four websites in pursuit of some new recipes Mistress might like to try. She was a typical woman inasmuch as she watched her figure, despite weighing a scant ninety-nine pounds when fully dressed for an expedition to the Artic Circle. After logging off, he silently went back to the bedroom and poked his head in to see if she was awake. "Yes?" Brandy asked without moving or opening her eyes.

"I was checking to see if you had fallen asleep, Mistress. I thought it illogical to prepare your snack and then disturb you if you had."

His thoughtfulness never ceased to amaze her. She had fallen into a light doze during previous massages and he had been both embarrassed and upset with himself upon unknowingly disturbing her. "Go ahead and prepare it and come get me when you are ready."

"Yes, Mistress." He moved to comply.

A tune, mayo and cheese sandwich was prepared and placed on a saucer with exactly five Townhouse crackers before he iced up a glass and poured a diet soda. He fetched the cordless and cellular telephones, placed them on a serving tray and took them down to the gyno bench's side table as specified. It wouldn't do to stop his tongue's wagging to fetch the phones if a call came in. Allen went back upstairs and presented himself to his Mistress.

She stood and got a bra out of the dresser, retrieved the coiled blacksnake whip and ordered him to carry her downstairs. He picked her up easily and cradled her in his powerful arms. His erect penis pointed the way as he complied.

He put her down, sat on the scooter stool and adjusted his balls so they wouldn't be compressed. Brandy secured his arms behind his back, put on her bra and stepped out of her panties. Then she hopped up onto the gyno bench and spread her legs, placing them in the support fixtures. "Standard orders for boundaries and duration apply," she informed him, gesturing him to get his mouth busy. He scooted forward, lowered his head and began to lick her as reverently as he knew how. Meanwhile, Brandy relaxed and ate her sandwich and crackers while watching the big-screen TV behind her occupied slave.

Allen's talented tongue traveled everywhere she liked it to go without going up to her clitoris—his standard orders for boundaries forbid it. She required him to stay away from it until specifically ordered to work it directly. This bit of self-denial was her way of making sure he didn't get her so horny as to induce her to forget the "one orgasm a week" rule while fucking her pussy off. It was quite easy to forget her own rules in the throes of having her beaver banged after licking her into a frenzy. He had used that tactic a few times early on; after realizing this after his fourth unauthorized orgasm, Brandy punished him with twenty brutal lashes from the rubber whip and two hours of hang time. Her clitoris was not to be exploited for his benefit! Afterwards, she established her standard orders and they hadn't been violated since.

Brandy felt her genitals lubricating as her slave's tongue tiptoed between her two lips. The strands of her well-trimmed pubic thatch stirred with his breathing. Allen didn't look up to check her expressions for an idea of his effectiveness; this was also an element of his standard orders for pussy-eating. It didn't matter how effective his tongue job was since he was required to keep on doing it until ordered to stop. Brandy finished the last of her snack and changed the channel.

The cordless telephone rang twenty-five minutes into the tongue job. Brandy grumbled something under her breath and checked the caller identification readout. "It's Maribel from work," she told Allen as she poked the button. "Hello?"

Allen kept himself busy between her spread legs and listened to the conversation. It was difficult not to since he could hear Maribel's side clearly. She wanted to confer with Brandy about something and needed her signature to release a package going to England. Allen felt disappointed; he would need to stop and stay hidden in the basement while Maribel was here. Then there would be no guarantee Mistress would be in the mood for him to resume once she departed.

"All right," Brandy said with a sigh. "I'm occupied with something in the basement. Let yourself in, come through the kitchen and come downstairs. I'll be expecting you." Small pause. "Okay. See you in ten minutes." She hung up the phone and put it back on the side table.

"We'll be having company, but you're doing too good a job for me to stop you. Put what you're doing on pause and fetch a blanket."

Allen raised his head and regarded her quizzically. "You're going to have me continue even while Maribel is here, Mistress?"

"Yes," she said testily; a slave shouldn't ask obvious questions. "I'm off the clock and she's interrupting me."

"As you wish, Mistress." Allen stood and, with his wrists still crossed and restrained behind him, went into the laundry room. It took some doing and dexterity to get the blanket off the chin-high shelf, but he managed. He brought it to Brandy and presented it to her.

She accepted it and opened it as Allen reseated himself. He lowered his head to resume as Brandy spread the blanket and covered him from the waist up and herself from the waist down. His butt and crossed wrists were still visible, but those anonymous features wouldn't betray his identity to their co-worker.

Maribel arrived several minutes later, came downstairs and stopped in her tracks. She was stunned speechless for a few seconds. "Am I interrupting something?" she asked with uncertainty.

"Yes, you are," replied Brandy bluntly.

Maribel approached warily. Her immediate supervisor had her legs spread with a bound and naked man between them, his blanket-shrouded head bobbing away as if giving Brandy head. Each of her knees was visible and the blanket pulled only to the underside of her bra. "Is that a gynecologist's table?"

"An antique one, yes. I found it at a flea market. It's really handy for getting your pussy licked when you're not at work."

The snide remark made Maribel blush. Brandy might only be four-foot-eleven, but her personality was ten feet tall when faced with incompetence—or nosiness. She was worried about her job as it was since she was just five months out of high school. Figuring it best to reduce her intrusion, Maribel handed over the clipboard she had brought with her.

Under the summer weight pale blue blanket, Allen maintained his tongue duties. It amused him to have his Mistress conducting business with her legs wide open like it was an everyday occurrence. Enough light was bleeding through the blanket to allow him to see what parts of his Mistress was covered, so he happily ranged his eyes as far as he could.

Brandy and Maribel were chatting about things from work. Then Brandy rested the clipboard on her waist and the top of his head before affixing her signature. Maribel couldn't help but wonder how the naked, bound and unknown man under the blanket felt about being reduced to a temporary support. "Who's your friend?" she asked, accepting the clipboard back.

"You don't need to know that," Brandy answered bluntly.

"People at work have been wondering about you and Allen. This guy is about the right size and height—"

"Even if this was Allen, it's no one's business but my own," Brandy cut her off curtly. "That's why he's covered with a blanket. What goes on in my house is my business."

Maribel looked affronted and flipped open her cellphone. "Maybe a picture or two would amuse the folks—"

"Put that thing away!" Brandy demanded with a hot glare. "You don't want to cross me, girl!"

Maribel ignored her and snapped a picture. "Step back, pet!" Brandy snapped, giving his head a small push. Allen pushed back and took the blanket with him as Brandy swung her legs out of the support fixtures and stood. She advanced on Maribel with her hand extended. "Give me that phone or I'll have my man take it from you!"

Getting nervous, Maribel shied back and took a couple of steps toward the staircase. Brandy headed her off; the other woman had three inches and thirty pounds on her, but Brandy had that man at her beck and call. Maribel knew she only had to keep her at bay until she could get one of his wrists freed, so she tried to escape past her boss.

Brandy got past her and stood on the first step up, blocking her path. "I need your help, pet!"

Allen stood and went toward her, the blanket still draped over his head like a kid pretending to be a pale blue ghost. The basement lighting was good enough to let him see some dim outlines through the material, but he knew the layout well enough to navigate his way to his Mistress' side with ease.

Maribel, worried, saw him approaching and tried to strong-arm her way past Brandy. Part of her mind focused on the absurdity of it all—her supervisor, naked save for her bra, and a naked hunk of a man with his wrists crossed and restrained behind his back and advancing on her menacingly—

With a blanket draped over his head.

Brandy pushed back against the younger woman. Maribel glanced toward Allen and was momentarily distracted by his three-quarters hard cock pointed at her. It was much larger than the two she had previously seen in her nineteen years and couldn't help but to goggle at it with wide eyes. But it was all the time he needed to get to Brandy's side. His Mistress quickly undid one wristcuff and the unknown-to-Maribel male quickly got his arm out. He grabbed her with the blanket still over his head and took her cellphone away with no effort. Then he wordlessly presented it to Brandy.

"Thank you, my pet," she said with satisfaction as she called up the file. She deleted the incriminating picture and looked through the outgoing e-mail and text message files to make sure it hadn't been sent somewhere. It hadn't. "You're lucky you didn't send that anywhere."

"You really don't think you can keep a secret like this, do you?" Maribel sneered. "You're playing kinky games—"

"—On my off hours!" Brandy finished hotly. "What goes on in my house is my business, kid! If I have a slave to eat my pussy for hours on end, that none of anyone's business!" She stepped closer, looking ominous. "Do yourself a favor, child—forget what you saw here today. You spread this around work and I'll make it my personal business to make sure you lose your job! Any tiny slip will be scrutinized six ways from Sunday. And don't you think I mean maybe, kiddo, because I don't!"

Maribel made the mistake of laughing. "I'm not scared of you! You can—"

Quick as a flash, Allen grabbed the young woman by the throat. "My Mistress gave you an order," he whispered to hide his identity. "You will do as you are told or I'll take you up to the garage and use her whip on you."

Maribel's eyes widened as the color drained from her face. "Whip?"

"Let me show you," Brandy said sweetly. She went to the gyno table and picked up the coiled blacksnake from the table. "Bring her here, pet." Allen hustled the very unwilling Maribel to her side as she let the business end of the vicious looking whip uncoil by dropping it on the floor. Maribel gulped.

Brandy turned and let fly with a murderous swing at the central pillar. The blacksnake whistled low and mean through the air and hit with a meaty-sounding crack! Several splinters of paneling flew away. Maribel gulped hard enough to swallow a set of false teeth.

"People obey me," Brandy said mildly. "If they don't… well…" She gestured with the whip, letting the young and naïve woman fill in the blanks with her imagination.

"Th— tha-that's ag-ag-aggravated as-assault," stammered Maribel, wishing she had never called here in the first place. "You could go to prison for—"

"Carry her to the garage, pet," ordered Brandy, hefting the blacksnake.

Allen grabbed her around the waist and easily thrust the suddenly struggling Maribel over his shoulder into a fireman's carry. "No! No! No! No! No-no, wait! I won't say anything!"

"It's too late for that," Brandy pointed out as Mistress and slave headed for the staircase.

"It's never too late!" screeched a very scared Maribel, twisting and struggling like crazy. "I promise, you have my word! I'll keep your secret! I'll keep your secret!"

Mistress and slave stopped at the base of the staircase. Brandy waited a few seconds to let Maribel stew in her own sweat. "You'd better," she said as darkly as she could. "I know where you live, kiddo, and you've already seen how well my slave obeys me. One peep of this and we'll come for you." Shirt pause. "How many lashes have you ever gotten at one time, my pet?"

"Twenty, Mistress," whispered Allen. "Then you left your humble servant hanging by his wrists for two hours to quote `think about what you did.'"

"Does that sound like fun, Maribel?" asked Brandy, her tone sugary sweet.

"No," she said in a very tiny voice.

"So you're gonna keep your mouth shut, right?"

"Yes, ma'am," she said meekly.

"You'd better," she warned, then waved the coiled blacksnake under Maribel's nose. The meaning was crystal clear. "Put her down, my pet."

"Yes, Mistress." He placed her back on her feet.

"Fold up the blanket and put it away while I escort her out."

"Yes, Mistress." Brandy returned her cellphone and gestured toward the staircase; she took the hint and went up to the main floor.

Appearing oblivious to the fact she was dressed only in a bra, Brandy escorted her through the kitchen, into the garage and up to the people-sized door leading outside. She then backtracked to the center of the garage and swung the blacksnake over her head in a big circle. "This could be you," Brandy observed at the end of the third lap as she suddenly reversed direction. The whip cracked loudly, the sound bouncing off the walls and searing itself deeply into Maribel's permanent memory.

The young woman came close to pissing herself. Instead, she turned pale, gulped, nodded and fled with great alacrity.

Brandy watched as she got in her car and fled in a hurry. Then she locked the outer door and returned to the basement. Allen was standing in front of the gyno table, waiting for her with his arms behind his back. His free wrist was in its cuff; all Brandy had to do was buckle it. "I am ready to resume if you wish it, Mistress."

She considered—the encounter left her feeling tense and annoyed. The tongue job might not be the best thing right now since she was in an unfavorable mindset. On the other hand, Brandy knew they hadn't done anything wrong—she and Allen were both in their late twenties and were competent, consenting adults. What went on in her house was their concern only. Finally, she decided she needed to relax.




Male Sub Ch. 06



"Very well." Brandy buckled the loose wristcuff and tucked the strap's tongue under its retainer loop. Allen sat down as Brandy hopped back onto the gyno table, spread her legs and rested them in the supports. At her gesture, he resumed licking.  

Brandy watched him over the next ten minutes. He was doing a great job, as usual, but she was concerned. What if Maribel blabbed anyway? Would it damage their careers? Would they be ostracized? Would they be separated via transfer to different departments? Would one or both if them get fired? They were consenting adults, to be sure, but BDSM was one of the most misunderstood fetishes out there. It wasn't nearly as freaky as infantilism, for example, but it did tap into a dark place in the human psyche—a dark place many bland and vanilla souls were unwilling to venture.

Uncharacteristically, Allen stopped his tonguing and looked up at her. "You look worried, Mistress."

She sighed. "Yeah."

"There is no evidence and Maribel is young. Just nineteen. Her story, presuming she tells it, could simply be written off as her imagination or rumor-mongering."

"I shouldn't have taken the risk," Brandy grumbled. "I did with Carla and look what happened." Which was true; Brandy showed her friend Carla how a Mistress whips her slave, using the light-duty rubber whip instead of the blacksnake. But Carla duped her and let fly with a lash with the blacksnake, cutting a painful groove into his body. That was three months ago and the path of the lash was still visible.

"Let me take your mind off it, Mistress," he said gently.

"I doubt you can—" she shrugged "—but you can try."

"Yes, Mistress." Allen lowered his head and resumed licking her. This time, however, he ignored the standing orders and went for her clitoris. Within a minute, Brandy was writhing all over the gynecologist's table—panting, gasping, twitching and mewling. Her first orgasm came within three minutes. Four more followed within two more minutes.

It was just what his diminutive Mistress needed to forget her cares for awhile.

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Copyright © 2008 by the author, John W. Adams, Jr. All rights reserved. 



Male Sub Ch. 07



Author's Foreword—

This is my fifteenth submission to Literotica, and the seventh chapter in my Male Submissive series. I recommend you have a read of Chapter Six to understand what's going on in this chapter. All my stories are open for written comments and voting is encouraged. Also feel free to visit my profile to access the archive of my older postings for your reading enjoyment.

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Chapter Seven — The Trainee

Maribel was in a funk.

A week had passed since discovering her boss had a sex slave at her command. She held her silence as ordered upon witnessing the unknown man's naked but blanket-covered body between Brandy's legs as he orally serviced her. The little woman ten years her senior would occasionally catch her gazing at her and Allen during break times. Brandy would then scowl and silently use small movements to mime the action of cracking a whip. Maribel would then blanch, blush quite red and lower her gaze. Brandy would snicker to herself, loud enough for the even more embarrassed Maribel to hear.

At least twice a night, Maribel awoke from vividly sexual dreams depicting herself as the restrained sex slave between Brandy's legs. This usually made her stomach crawl; she was by no means gay and had no lesbian experience or desire whatsoever. She wouldn't even think about classifying herself as "bi-curious" because, for her, there was nothing to be curious about. Still, the dreams lingered and she wondered why.

She decided to study up on the to-her unknown sexual realm. Maribel entered "sex slaves" into her favorite Internet search engine to see what it would say. Thinking it would be a short fifteen-minute search, Maribel was absolutely floored to see how much information there was to be found! Her planned fifteen minutes turned into five hours.

Some websites helped her understand that she was not a deviant or pervert in the making. Literally thousands of people had similar thoughts and feelings they discussed openly on hundreds of dedicated websites. Though reading those postings and discussions, Maribel came to understand she was a "curious newbie submissive" who had deeply buried feelings awakened by an unexpected incident.

One posting spoke of the author's awakening to sexual submission. The early thirtysomething woman spoke of a time when she was living on a farm in southern Indiana. She was the only girl within a three-mile bike ride and her only companionship was her brother's five friends. Their mother ordered him to take her along with the guys as they went on hikes, bike rides, went swimming in a nearby creek or whatever. The boys took a dim view of this and one time tied her to a tree a few dozen yards from their house. She spoke in her posting about the sexual thrill she felt at being manhandled and overpowered, as well as seeing the bulges in the fronts of their jeans. One of them got the bright idea to see "if girls really are different down there" and they explored under her clothes with their hands. Her brother wouldn't let his friends take down her jeans, but her shirt and bra were quickly pushed out of the way "and no mystery remained for them." The author continued, "hands explored everywhere I had places to explore, and I struggled, panted, screeched and loved every minute of it!" The anonymous poster said one of her brother's friends eventually became "my husband and Master because of that day. To surrender to his will is a joy this woman will always crave." Then she went on to describe a startlingly familiar scene—her husband-slash-Master would order her to slowly and lovingly suck his cock while he reads or watches TV. "I would lavish loving attention on his manpole like a living Popsicle while he reads his book, occasionally stroking my hair as if I am his most beloved pet," she wrote. "My knees would ache from kneeling so long, but my Master knows how to reward me for my servitude and patience. When he is done, I know I am loved, cherished and wholly owned by the most wonderful Master a submissive woman could ever have. All my small aches feel far away and insignificant in the glow of his love." Maribel wondered if that female poster was just a really good writer, or if she was for real.

The only she knew to discover this was to approach Brandy.

Doing so, however, was dangerous. It could threaten her job or her relationship with her boyfriend. It could accidentally become public knowledge and get her ostracized. Her parents were devoutly religious; stepping into such a dark and misunderstood fetish might touch off a heart attack in both of them! She could just see her father going into a rant about how "the dark realm of debauchery has claimed my only daughter and made her a disciple to the wages of sexual sin" or something like that.

Maribel stewed for another week, surfing the Internet for every scrap of new knowledge she could find. She found a website that offered BDSM equipment for sale; a copy of the blacksnake whip Brandy had was listed at over one hundred dollars! This much financial dedication told her Brandy was into the lifestyle deeply enough to help guide her through her confusion—if she chose to do so.

She had to ask. All she could do was say no.

Bolting down her courage, Maribel drove to Brandy's house. She dragged herself nervously to the door and rang the bell. Her hands, feet and wobbling knees would not be still as she waited for a reply.

Looking annoyed at being interrupted, Brandy opened the door. Maribel took it as a good sign that her boss was dressed in a housecoat with the white high heels she remembered from her last visit here. "What?" Brandy asked bluntly.

"I would like to speak with you."

"Then speak," ordered Brandy, leaning a shoulder on the doorframe and folding her arms. "Make it quick though."

"I can come back another time if you're busy putting your submissive through his paces," Maribel offered.

Something about the younger woman's demeanor and her use of the word submissive made Brandy bite off a retort before it reached her voice. "He can wait," she said, her tone and expression neutral.

"Waiting can heighten his sense of helplessness and thus further your control of what he gets from your arrangement," said Maribel with what she hoped was a knowing nod. "Not knowing who rang the doorbell in the middle of whatever you were doing can give him cause for concern as well. Is that person here at your request? Is that person going to participate? Will that person participate as a Dom or a sub? He has no answers, and his imagination will be running rampant as he awaits your return."

Brandy didn't reply for many seconds, studying the nervous nineteen-year-old throughout. It sounds like she knows more than the typical vanilla person, she thought. "All that is true," she allowed, conceding nothing.

Maribel stepped fractionally closer, self-consciously lowering her voice. "Something about our incident a couple of weeks ago unsettled me in ways I have not been able to comprehend or put out of my mind. I don't understand the drives of the BDSM world—" Brandy's eyebrows involuntarily quirked at her competent use of an insider's phrase "—and I don't know where else to turn."

Thinking in silence, Brandy wondered if this was a ruse and a way of conning her into revealing her submissive's identity. "Do you think you're dominant or submissive?"

"Everything I've read on the Internet points to me being a `curious submissive.'" She cleared her throat. "Much beyond that, I don't know."

"But you want to know. You seem to be wordlessly suggesting that you become my trainee in exchange for guidance and enlightenment."

"Perhaps I am." Uncomfortable pause. "Mistress," she finished, her voice half-strangled by nervousness and unknown emotions without names.

Brandy studied her through stern and suspicious eyes. Several seconds passed as Maribel stewed silently, determined not to flee. Then Brandy pulled out of her comfortable slouch and gestured her inside. Maribel stepped into the garage and the door was closed. "Kneel."

A flicker of surprise crossed the younger woman's face, but she knelt without question, comment or protest. It was also done quickly enough not to warrant a reprimand for dawdling or displaying headstrong resistance. Brandy was impressed but his it completely. "Put your knees tight together, rest your butt on your heels and place your hands flat atop your thighs." Maribel complied. "This is what I call the standard position and you will assume it quickly when ordered to do so. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Mistress," replied Maribel with a nervous hitch, looking up at the shorter woman somehow looming tall and imposing over her.

"I have not yet decided to be your Mistress!" Brandy said sharply. "Addressing me with that title is something you earn!  You will address me as `ma'am.'"

"I understand, ma'am."

"I can be stern and unforgiving," Brandy went on. "Break my rules severely enough and the whip you saw a couple of weeks ago will taste your flesh! If you cannot handle the thought of that, you may leave now."

Maribel recalled the cruelly sensuous look of the blacksnake slicing through the air and breaking a couple of chunks of paneling from the central pillar in the basement. She did not know about the rubber whip Brandy used to administer lashes when punishment was earned, so the thought of getting whipped with the blacksnake made her skin crawl—but she couldn't turn back now. "I wish to stay, ma'am."

"You may come to regret that wish," warned Brandy, her tone ominous. She watched as Maribel tried not to tremble in the face of the unknown. "Stand, trainee."

She stood and folded her hands in front of herself. "Come inside." Maribel followed her into the kitchen from the directly connecting inner garage door. Brandy led her through the kitchen and stopped just before the door leading to the basement. "Assume the standard position and wait for me."

"Yes, ma'am," she answered as she knelt. She watched as Brandy went downstairs.

Allen watched as Mistress Brandy came back downstairs, shedding her housecoat as she went. "We have a visitor," she informed him, loud enough for the trainee to hear. "Maribel thinks she can be as good a submissive as you. But I'm not sure she can. She's too young."

Listening, Maribel blushed and felt her hopes sink. Since she hadn't been dismissed or addressed, she stayed quiet and waited from Brandy's return. She wondered why her slave—whatever his name was—offered no verbal reply.

Brandy, now naked again save for her white cotton bikini panties and the high heels, rooted around for something in their equipment locker. She set them on the table next to the gyno bench, grabbed the blacksnake and went upstairs. Maribel heard her coming and adjusted her kneeling position. Then she felt the blood drain from her face when Brandy reappeared, dressed only in a snug pair of underwear and toting that murderous looking whip.

She stepped close and loomed over the kneeling woman as menacingly as a four-foot-eleven woman could muster. She held the blacksnake really close to her face, letting her get a really good look. Maribel felt her throat tighten as she studied the black and uneven surface, hoping it would never be used on her yet wondering how bad it would hurt. Then Brandy gently stroked her cheeks with the coiled leather; the rough surface was both strangely sensuous and quite unnerving at the same time. She felt herself shiver as her cheeks blushed again.

Brandy watched the blush expand and favored her trainee with a smirking smile. "The blacksnake intrigues you like a candle intrigues a moth," she said in a low and mesmerizing tone, deliberately calculated to make Maribel blush even harder. "Perhaps you need a taste?"

Maribel felt her throat tighten up even more as she dug through her memories of what she'd read on the Internet. "If it is your will, ma'am."

Again the involuntary eyebrow quirk. She's nervous as hell but she's leaving the control up to me, Brandy thought, her estimation going up a notch. "Put your hands flat right here," she ordered, tapping the floor with her toe two feet in front of her knees, "then bend forward and place your forehead on your hands." Maribel complied, her young, tight and shapely ass elevated and exposed. "This is called the presentation position. You may presume you have displeased me if I order you to assume it." She then flexed her fingers, letting the business end of the blacksnake drop onto the floor.

Maribel saw the lash land beside her. Thinking it a test of her determination, courage, nerve or something else, she waited and felt quite exposed with her fanny upturned and presented. Her heart was hammering with great speed and power. She was also surprised to feel her pussy had a decidedly aggressive tingle within it.

Brandy slid the blacksnake through her hand and took a grip at the one-third point. She parked her feet next to her trainee's elbows, bent forward and applied a firm stroke to that sweet, upturned ass. The denim of her jeans and her panties took the brunt, but there was more than enough force to demonstrate Brandy meant business. She silently counted to five and applied another. Count to five and another. Count to five and another. Count to five and another. Count to five and another. "Do you regret your wish now, trainee?"

"No, ma'am." The sting was there but Maribel knew this whole thing was a test of her mettle.

"Would you regret your wish to stay if I ordered you to suck my slave's cock?"

"No, ma'am."

"Would you regret that wish if I ordered you to lick my pussy?"

She felt herself blush again. "No, ma'am."

"Good! Stand and come downstairs, trainee."

Maribel followed her into the basement and saw why the submissive hadn't replied to his Mistress earlier—he was gagged, as well as naked and restrained kneeling to the central pillar. His head was encased in a black leather hood with a pair of so-called "girlwatcher sunglasses" in front of his eyes. The one-way mirrored lenses—once popular with the Joe Cool -types in the 1970s—would let him see uninhibited, yet would not let her see what his eyes looked like.

"Strip to your panties, trainee."

"Yes, ma'am." She started to remove her clothes as Brandy and her submissive man watched. Maribel presumed the sub liked what he was seeing as his surprisingly thick pecker started to swell in length and width. She couldn't help but wonder what that rascal would feel like in her kitty.

The stripping complete, Mistress Brandy inspected her trainee while Allen feasted his eye from behind his mirrored disco-era shades. Perky and firm B-cup breasts and their nipples were examined, her tight and smooth tummy was deemed quite nice, and her incredible ass was given the thumbs-up. Brandy then pulled the front of Maribel's pale yellow panties away and inspected the trimming of her thicket. "My pet will trim you up later," she mentioned offhandedly as the panties were put back into place. Allen heard and made no comment since he was gagged, but his erection's swelling increased two-fold in as many seconds.

"I'm going to start your first lesson of enlightenment by testing your oral skills. First you'll do my pet while I'm busy with my Pilates exercises. Then you'll do me."

"As you wish, ma'am."

"Kneel."

Maribel knelt. Brandy hadn't specified the standard position but assumed it anyway, secretly impressing her Mistress. No protest or resistance was offered as Brandy tied her arms behind her back in a box tie. "Have you ever been bound before, trainee?"

"No, ma'am."

"Then two bits of your virginity will now bite the dust," stated Brandy as she reached for a strange device. It looked like a metal loop with four curved prongs spaced evenly around it, with two leather straps attached. "Open your mouth."

Maribel complied and the hoop was inserted. She realized the hoop would not allow her to close her mouth while still allowing oral insertion. The prongs resting on her cheeks and chin would keep the spider gag from twisting away from its vertical orientation. Brandy buckled it in place, then buckled a studded black leather collar around her neck.

Allen watched, his he-rod huge standing tall. Maribel was a remarkably beautiful young woman with just enough Hispanic blood in her lineage to make her flawless flesh look suntanned year round. Her hair was brunette, her eyes as deep, dark and mysterious as interstellar space, and her pelvis was as flat as the plains of western Texas. Her legs were supple, firm and lean with just the right amount of taper. The older forty- and fiftysomething men at work universally wished they were twenty years younger so they could tap that. And here she was, preparing to accept his lucky stiff between her nice and pouty lips and into the moist embrace of her mouth.

Maribel saw his manpole was already at full strength in anticipation of having her mouth around it. She fretted about it; she'd given oral to a previous boyfriend, but Brandy's slave was a lot bigger. She felt saliva forming from the insertion of the spider gag and exposure to the air; she figured she'd be drooling on his sex sword and onto the floor in a minute or two.

Meanwhile, Brandy was tying a length of rope to the collar. When she was done, she unbuckled Allen's ankle restraints and ordered him to stand. Maribel watched as he positioned his legs and slid his body up the pillar as if having done it before. Brandy then buckled a homemade spreader bar between his ankles, holding them just past shoulder-width apart. The spreader was then tied to the pillar.

"Scoot forward and put your knees next to the spreader bar," ordered Brandy.

Her heart hammering with a curious combination of anticipation and nerves, Maribel knee-walked forward. She watched and drooled as Brandy ran a rope around her knees and tied the ends to the spreader bar. The man's magnificent member was right next to her cheek as another runnel of drool sagged from her blocked-open mouth. Meanwhile, Brandy ran a rope from her box-tied arms to her ankles and tied off the ends; this would keep her kneeling. Then came the order all three had been anticipating, each in their own way—

"Get him inserted."

Maribel leaned back a bit and maneuvered her head as needed to align his manliness with the spider gag. She slowly leaned forward and felt the blunt prow of his Tower of Masculine Power pass over her tongue and begin to press against the rear roof of her mouth. Brandy then led the collar rope between Allen's legs and tied it to the pillar behind him. There was very little slack; Maribel barely had enough room to swallow. She figured about five of his seven inches was cradled between her cheeks and teeth. Her tongue played over it involuntarily, trying to push the intruder out by instinct.

Allen felt her tongue wrestling with his malepole for space. Her deep brown eyes looked up at him, wide, nervous and borderline pleading—but there was no relief he could give. His bindings were just as resolute and inescapable as hers.

Brandy looked over the fruits of her labors. "Man, isn't that a sight for a Mistress' eyes!" she exclaimed with satisfaction. "Not a bad job if I do say so myself." Neither replied since they were gagged, each in their own way.

Brandy hovered out of Maribel's range of eyesight, watching as her trainee tried to reconcile her submissive posture and helplessness within her mind. She had some concern that Allen might climax without intending to; today was Friday and his weekly reward was slated for later that evening. But mostly she concentrated on her young trainee. Allen would conduct himself as expected, but Maribel was entering a strange new world—and that world had to be entered with care and consideration for newly experienced emotions and sensations.




Male Sub Ch. 07



Five minutes passed. Maribel wasn't weeping, whining or excessively struggling to escape, so Brandy decided everything was okay. "You two keep each other entertained while I do my Pilates," she instructed, walking toward the big-screen TV. It was turned on and a disc was fed into the DVD player. Her high heels were kicked off and replaced with white ankle socks, then she began her routine.

Allen watched hungrily as his Mistress stretched and moved erotically through her exercise routine. Only her white cotton bikini panties kept her from being fully nude as her toned muscles rippled and moved under her taut, blemish-free skin. Brandy did her Pilates with him bound to the pillar at least once a week—but this was the first time he had his rock-hard riding horse cradled within the warm, moist and willing mouth of a female submissive! He felt his testicles working as testosterone built up in his blood.

Meanwhile, Maribel tried to keep her tongue from instinctively stroking the erection lodged in her mouth. She knew he was watched Brandy exercise and knew men were more visually stimulated than women. Her inadvertent oral stimulation and Brandy's deliberate visual stimulation might combine to cause him to orgasm and expel his seed down her throat. She didn't want that to happen, but there was no escaping the possibility—especially if she couldn't teach her tongue to leave that tubular intruder alone! Maribel twitched and wiggled in her unaccustomed bondage, her wide eyes turned up to look at her own reflection in the male sub's girlwatcher shades. There was little else she could look at, after all.

Meanwhile, Brandy went about her exercises. She pretended to ignore the two people in bondage behind her, but she was paying attention to their sounds. Allen would let off an occasional quivering breath or appreciating groan as Maribel made the occasional small whimper or groan. The video had another twenty minutes to run; she would release them once the credits started to roll.

Time passed. Maribel endured her bondage, the hardness in her mouth and the tingling horny blaze in her pussy. Allen endured his bondage, the moist tongue fighting his blazing boner for room, and the nearly overwhelming urge to spew his inseam soldiers down Maribel's throat. Brandy enjoyed her Pilates routine and her sense of complete power over her two willing submissives.

The DVD finally ended and Brandy shut off the player and TV before going to inspect how Allen and Maribel fared. They were still as she put them, of course. Maribel had red patches on her knees from kneeling on the carpet. What part of Allen's cock she could see was damp with saliva and a darker shade than normal; she knew he was ready to climax. "That was fun, wasn't it?" she asked rhetorically. Neither answered because of their gags as Brandy started to untie the collar rope.

The young woman pulled clear of the penetrating erection. Brandy then untied her ankles and knees before helping her to stand. The spider gag came out last. "Thank you, ma'am," Maribel said with relief, clearing her throat.

"Did he climax?"

"No, ma'am."

"That's good. Now we'll move to phase two and you will provide oral to me. If you do well, my slave will provide you with whatever type of fucking you desire."

Maribel looked bewildered. "I don't understand, ma'am."

"You know," she said with a shrug. "Doggie style, reverse missionary, whatever."

"I am only familiar with the man on top position, ma'am."

Brandy belated remembered her trainee was nine years younger than her own twenty-eight years. "Do a good job giving me head and we'll expand your horizons."

My horizons have been expanded halfway to Pluto as it is! Maribel thought with amazement. Aloud she merely said, "yes, ma'am." Brandy gestured her toward the gyno table and ordered her to sit on the stool.

Allen watched, still restrained to the pillar, hoping to catch Mistress taking down her panties. He turned his head away to the right but swiveled his eyes back to watch, hoping the mirrored lenses of his shades would save the day—slaves were not to watch their Masters or Mistresses undress. Brandy was explaining this to her trainee as she put on her bra behind Maribel's back. Then she drew the snug white cotton dainties down her legs as Allen—apparently forgotten for the moment—happily watched. His boner was already as taut as a suspension bridge's cables, but it somehow managed to get even stiffer.

Brandy put them on the table, then darted a look at Allen. His face was turned away, but that meant nothing behind the mirrored shades. She stomped over to him. "Did you watch me take my panties down?" she demanded, hands on her naked hips. He shook his head no; standing orders specified he wasn't to attempt speech while gagged. "I think you did." Allen shook his head no. "You're lying!" He shook his head no. "You had the perfect opportunity." He nodded yes in agreement. "So you did watch!" Again Allen shook his head no. "But there is no way for me to be sure because of the shades, right?" He nodded yes. "So it could be you just got away with a crime." He tipped his head slightly to his left as if to wordlessly admit the possibility existed.

Brandy glared at her own reflection in his girlwatcher glasses, looking annoyed. She sensed he was lying to her but could not be sure his eyes were averted when her panties came down. "All right, slave," she said with resignation. "I couldn't tell because of the shades. It just might be you got away with it this time, buster!" She shook a finger of warning at him. "Don't think I won't remember this!" Brandy strode back to the gyno table and hopped up on it. She spread her legs, placed them in the supports and gestured Maribel to get her mouth busy.

Maribel cautiously lowered her head and took a couple of careful licks, then began to nibble and kiss her sex as her confidence grew. After a few minutes, she glanced up at Brandy's face to judge her reactions. She had been watching for this and Brandy smacked the top of her head. "Eyes down, trainee!" she barked. "It doesn't matter how well you're doing because you're carrying out your orders!"

Allen watched his Mistress get her pussy eaten. He knew they wouldn't be adding Maribel as a third participant; Brandy didn't have room for another live-in submissive in her house. They might have twice-a-month training sessions for the continued exploration of the trainee's submissive side, but that would be all. He contented himself by admiring Mistress' open legs and Maribel's naked and amazing ass while they were involved.

Brandy judged her trainee's inhibitions were slipping away nicely—her tongue gained talent as her experience grew. She watched her tongue probe her feminine groove without struggling to get away or free her arms from their box-tie. It was getting more and more difficult to hide her natural reactions to the probing tongue.

Meanwhile, Maribel was amazed at herself and her performance. She had instinctively slipped into a lesbian mindset of putting herself in her partner's position and licking her vagina as she would like to be licked. The taste, texture and scent were alien to her—but it was quite pleasant! She doubted she could ever give up her need for cock, but Maribel reasoned she could at least hold her own if she ever got sent to prison.

Ten minutes passed. "All right, trainee. Your standard orders are lifted. Bring me to orgasm." Allen and Brandy watched as Maribel expended the explorations of her tongue to include the clitoris.

In less than a minute, Brandy had her eyes closed as involuntary quivers and erratic breathing started to take hold. Allen watched as she slipped a hand inside her bra to stimulate a nipple as she writhed on the gyno table. Her quivers and breath rushes gave way to more aggressive twitches, louder groans and sighs of passion. Maribel tracked her movements and sped up her actions. Allen watched as Brandy's back suddenly heaved forward, her fists pounding the side of the gyno table as she fought the urge to steer her trainee's head. A thin runnel of pre-come fluid dripped to the floor from Allen's ignored hard-on; were it not for the restraints holding him affixed to the pillar, he'd grab his tubular friend and masturbate to orgasm! He'd worry about getting the punishment of ten lashes later.

A few minutes later, Brandy went stiff and climaxed. Her toe joints snapped from her feet being curled so hard. Maribel felt the trembling she had induced and just kept right on going; she would stop only when ordered to stop. Brandy relaxed from her orgasm, panted hard for a few seconds and went rigid again as another wave overpowered her.

Five orgasms later, Brandy reluctantly pushed her trainee's head away. It was getting too intense and she needed a few moments to compose herself. "Damn, that was good!" she wheezed, trying to focus her eyes.

"Thank you, ma'am. It was my first time."

"And it's not your last time, trainee!" Maribel smiled as Brandy gestured her back so she could stand.

"How else might I serve you today, ma'am?"

"You're done serving for today, trainee. I think it's time we expanded your sexual horizons a bit more." She went on to explain how her male sub—whose name was being kept from Maribel for the time being—was rewarded for good behavior on Fridays with unfettered sexual access and equality for a given length of time. "My pet would surely love the chance to fuck your young and tight twat." Brandy looked at Allen. "What do you think, pet? Want to rock her world doggie-style?"

Hell yeah! Allen thought happily. His gag was still in place so he nodded with vigorous enthusiasm. Maribel giggled at his reply.

Brandy gestured toward the sawhorse. Maribel saw its top rail was padded, and it had a set of PVC cups bolted to one set of legs and a set of handlebars from an old bicycle on the other. With some verbal instruction and physical assistance, Mistress Brandy got her trainee arranged atop the sawhorse. Her knees were roped into the PVC knee cups and two more placed over her torso, one at waist level and another at shoulder height. The handlebars went unused since her arms were still box-tied.

Brandy went to release Allen as Maribel dealt with her feelings. She felt much more exposed now with her butt in that position and bare-naked to boot. There was no escape and she sure as hell needed something long, strong and powerful banging around in her beaver! She watched in the mirror in front of her as Mistress Brandy and her so-called "pet" approached and admired her naked, upturned ass. The male, she saw, was completely untied—but he still wore the leather hood and girlwatcher glasses.

"I'd call that butt quite spankable, wouldn't you, pet?" Maribel watched him in the mirror as he nodded agreement. She also watched as Brandy reached between her open legs and gently caressed her slit. Her fingers were uncommonly gentle since she was accustomed only to a man's heavier touch. "She's wet and waiting for you." Then to Maribel—"I have two types of condoms, ribbed and tickler. What's your preference?"

"Ribbed, ma'am."

Allen nodded and opened the proper packet. Both women watched as he rolled the ribbed rubber onto his too-huge member. Maribel licked her lips nervously; she knew the vagina could expand enough to deliver a baby, but she was still nervous as she'd never had such a big cock in there before.

The condom in place, Allen stepped up and fondled her firm fanny. His strong hands felt warm and welcome as he stepped closer still and got himself aligned. A hand was used to guide the prow of his manly missile into her docking port.

Maribel felt it tunnel into her and she flexed her pelvis by instinct to accommodate it. The underside slowly slid over a previously unknown sensitive spot and her eyes flickered shut as a pleading groan escaped her lips. "I think he just discovered your G-spot, trainee."

"So did I, ma'am," Maribel whimper/whispered. Brandy and Allen exchanged amused glances as he began to stroke her.

Untold bolts of wondrous sexual energy and excitement lanced through her body as she tried to flex her hips backwards to meet his leisurely thrusts. "Harder," she somehow managed to croak.

Allen heard and started a one-in-four cycle—one hard and quick inward thrust after three slow and gentle thrusts. This always drove Brandy half-insane; since she and Maribel were both women, it was logical to assume it would do likewise for her.

Results were gleaned in less than a minute as Maribel had a minor rippling orgasm. Allen and Brandy watched as her back hitched upwards like a cat being petted on a sensitive spot of its spine. They also noticed she was working her box-tie bindings with more vigor—was she trying to escape or stimulating herself by struggling?

"Increase to a two-in-four thrusting cycle, my pet," Brandy ordered as she went to their storage box. He complied and thrust firmly into Maribel's sopping and needy pussy with every other inward stroke. Brandy returned with a wand vibrator and tripped the switch. It was an older model and comparatively loud; Maribel looked up with needy, bleary eyes when she heard it. She watched as Brandy reached around her bound body and touched the tip to her clit.

Maribel jerked hard against her bondage as a startled screech ripped its way out of her. Allen could feel the vibrations in his shaft through her enveloping pussy and sped up his thrusts. Brandy moved the wand around almost lazily as Maribel squirmed and struggled. Allen grabbed her ass and used it as a handle as he continued to guide his schooner into the shelter of her harbor.

Maribel's bound body jerked, wiggled, thrust, squirmed, twisted and writhed all over the sawhorse with all her strength as pleading, panting and inarticulate sounds flowed from her parted, trembling lips. It occurred to her that she was their helpless fucktoy, to be tormented, teased and pleased as they desired—and she loved it! There was no way she could go back to the vanilla world of straightforward sex; nothing compared to this, and she hadn't even climaxed yet!

Brandy knelt beside the sawhorse while keeping the wand vibrator on Maribel's clit. She wondered what her Mistress was going to do when she lowered her lips to her nearest nipple. It was gently suckled as the wand vibrator's speed was stepped up. Maribel jerked hard and went as tightly rigid as a piece of steel I-beam. Merciless waves of mind-blowing orgasmic power roared over and through her petite body. Her voice sounded like a hundred screaming demons being fried alive as those waves rocketed through her mind, body, genitals and consciousness.

Allen had been trying to hold back his own climax, but seeing her erupt caused his own sexual lift-off. His manpole fired off billions of semen seeds into the containing condom. He was dimly aware of the muscles of Maribel's young vagina clenching his penis during his orgasm, as if it was a lifeline to eternity.

Brandy withdrew the wand and stood back to watch as her submissives rested and regained their senses. There was a small tear on Maribel's cheek and she reached down to brush it gently away. Then she did a deep knee bend beside her trainee, gently stroking her hair. "Mistress," she whispered.

"You have earned the right to address me as Mistress," Brandy said.

"Thank you, Mistress."

"And we thank you for injecting a bit of newness into our own relationship."

"I can't ever go back to everyday, straightforward sex, Mistress."

"Now you know the power of the Dark Side," quipped Brandy in a fakely deep voice, paraphrasing a line from the Star Wars movies. Maribel and Allen chuckled, because that was more than the truth.

Maribel knew she could never go back. Just one stroll down the BDSM path had led to her desire to take up permanent residence therein. She wondered how she could explain her newfound needs to future boyfriends and sexual partners who had not yet summoned the courage to explore their own inner dark limits. But no matter—explain it she would. Allen had explained himself to Brandy and now they understood each other better than either had previously understood themselves. Even if it took years, Maribel knew she would search out a compatible Dominant Master of her own, one who would understand the rare gift of submission given to him. She had come to realize something during her first venture into the BDSM world—

It was good to be understood.

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Coming soon! Male Submissive Chapter Eight — Pleasuring Her Panties

Copyright © 2008 by the author, John W. Adams, Jr. All right reserved.