4 comments/ 28997 views/ 1 favorites Submissive Love Ch. 01 By: browngrad Looking in the mirror, all I see is time nipping at my heels. Until about the age of 45, I subjectively experienced myself as a very handsome man. Almost all the women and a few of the men I came across in my younger years couldn't help but make comments on my appearance. I was a classically tall, dark, and handsome man. At 6'2", with an athletic build, people noticed me. I kept myself around 200 lbs, and was a good dresser. Big brown eyes, thick black hair, smooth olive-toned skin, nicely kept teeth and a boyish face rounded out the picture. Nowadays, as I approach 50, things look a little different to me. When I look in the mirror, I see the difference between now and then, and it torments me. While my weight is the same, it seems to distribute in different places. I've developed slight "man boobs", the belly is harder to keep tone, and worse of all, I have a thinning and receding hairline. That probably drives me the most insane. I still get comments from the horny nurses who seem to dribble over themselves when the "handsome doctor" walks on the unit. Much younger women still occasionally stop in their tracks and smile sheepishly as I walk by. Perhaps if I were more conventional, I wouldn't be so lonely. You see, at my core, I am powerfully submissive. I discovered this about myself quite by accident when I was having sex with Lisa, a woman who eventually became my wife. Lisa invited me to dinner at her apartment despite the fact that she could barely make white rice. As it turned out, I cooked most of the meal that evening; all the while wondering why she invited me to dinner in the first place. Perhaps the reason resided in what took place later. After dinner we made our way to the bedroom to engage in fairly conventional but satisfying sex. Midway though the experience, she asked if I'd allow her to take control of the evening. I was up for most anything in those days, and agreed to let her plan unfold. She proceeded to restrain my hands to her bedpost with her nylons and blindfold me with a scarf. I found it fairly exciting, but was also anxious because I didn't really know her that well at the time. She left the room for a few minutes, leaving me restrained, vulnerable, and very horny. Upon her return, I felt a sharp, cold, steel object scratching at my chest and belly. "Don't be afraid, I won't hurt you," she promised, "This really turns me on." I was able to relax enough to enjoy the sensations of her knife tracing a path along my body. I trembled with fear and excitement as she took long, luxurious licks of my cock while scratching my torso with her knife. She seemed to enjoy running her tongue along the rim of the head of my cock. Lisa moved her mouth up and down the length of my shaft while scratching my nipples with her knife. When my cock was well lubricated from the mixture of pre-cum and her saliva, she grabbed it and stroked my slippery cock. "Cum for me," she demanded. Surprised by how excited I was by this treatment, I felt the tension mounting. My cock was very sensitive and I spurted my load. I could not see it, of course, but could tell that it was impressive. I climaxed with her holding the knife to my neck while demanding that I cum for her. "Ah... Mmm...good boy," she declared. It was kinda sick, I grant you that. It was also the beginning of a rocky courtship and an awful marriage. She turned out to be a horribly emotionally abusive woman who apparently only wanted a "trophy" husband to parade in front of her family and friends. Once we married, she became too busy for me, rarely made love to me, and allowed her family to treat me very badly. I instinctively knew she was emotionally abusive but was drawn to her nonetheless. My troubled past made her emotional dynamics all too familiar to me. I almost left Lisa shortly before we were to marry; at the time, explaining to her that I couldn't take her emotional unavailability any longer. I boldly announced I was going to move out of the apartment we shared. I'm not quite sure how it happened, but that night ended with my standing in the living room bent over, grabbing my ankles and her sliding the handle of a well lubricated kitchen knife in and out of my anus with a passion, lust and perversity that made me stay with her and marry her shortly thereafter. She promised she would perversely love me forever, and I fell for it. While the relationship was certainly stressful, it also opened the floodgates to my submissive self. The experiences with Lisa forced me to acknowledge and eventually accept how much sexual interest I have in being bound and used for the pleasure of a woman. I also have terrible abandonment fears. In my mind, to submit to a woman totally and completely, to let her use me for her pleasure, decreases the likelihood that she will discard me. The ending of Lisa and I began a period in my life that remains to this day. A lonely, aging submissive man with no woman to serve is a very pathetic thing. I've been a closet submissive since the end of my marriage. In my desperation, I posted a personal ad on one of those sites marketed for people looking for sexual encounters with relative strangers. I wrote what I thought was a very nice personal. In it, I described myself, and my preference to be a slave to a dominant woman. My personal posted for 6 months with very little response. In an effort to take one last shot at finding a mate and not looking like a pathetic old man, I returned to my local hair salon after a long absence. I felt flattered that the girls at the spa remembered me from years past. Joan made it a point to say hi to me. As soon as I saw her, memories of her giving me many a wonderful facial while I secretly fantasized about serving her in whatever way she desired flooded my brain. Suzanne told me how nice it was to see me again, and Joanne looked hot as ever! When my new stylist, Rhonda, came out to greet me, she stopped in her tracks, as if she knew me from somewhere. Gathering herself, she simply said, "Hi, I'm Rhonda. Follow me." I'll admit I was slightly disappointed with my new stylist. She appeared to be in her mid-30's, average build, and had a stress to her face suggesting she did not have an easy road to travel in life. If I'd met her in another context, I might have thought she was cute, but in this context, where most of the girls in the shop are in their 20's, waif-like and very hot, she came across as solidly below average. When we got to her chair, she asked what I was looking for in a hair style. I explained that the goal was to work towards a style that complimented and distracted the eye from the thinning area on the top and back of my head. I usually don't share much personal information with my hair dresser, but being desperate and lonely, I explained that I'd been alone for several years, and wanted to get back into the dating scene. I elaborated on my hopes that a stylish haircut might attract a nice woman. Rhonda just looked at me, again, as if she knew me, but said nothing. She escorted me to the shampoo station. As I settled back, with my head propped against the basin, it suddenly occurred to me that I was not wearing any underwear. I never wear underwear on the weekends. I was more than slightly self conscious, sitting there in a prone position, with my legs apart and my dick dangling down the side of my leg. The custom at this particular shop is to give the patrons a scalp massage which they claim helps stimulated the hair follicles. Rhonda had very strong hands. With very deliberate strokes, she gave me a wonderful scalp massage. In seconds, I felt my eyes closing and my body settling into the experience. I also became slightly aroused. I'm sure she could see the outline of my semi-erect penis through my jeans. When she towel dried my hair, she took care to dry behind my ears. I was both shocked and curious when she stuck her fingers in my ears to dry them. It was not just a casual brush of the ears; she was digging and fingering my ear! In my perverted little mind, I surmised that she was finding a way to signal me that she was interested in penetrating me. Sitting in her chair, I couldn't help but wonder if her violating my boundaries like she did was her way of testing the waters with me. She offered little by way of conversation during the time we spent together. In fact, I think I did all of the talking. I jabbered about being terribly lonely and explained that I've always been a bit of a pleaser. I told her about the difficulty I was having finding woman who willing to have a man that dedicates himself selflessly to her. In uncharacteristic fashion, I explained to her that I was convinced that father time was trying to rob me of the pleasures of being with a woman I could bring pleasure to. I usually don't reveal my submissive self to relative strangers, but Rhonda caught me on a day when I was feeling lonely and particularly adrift. When she was done with the cutting part of the process, she told me to come with her to the sink so she could rinse off the loose hairs before the final styling. Once again, she stuck her fingers in my ear as she was drying my hair. She brought me back to the chair, styled my hair and told me we were finished for today. I told her I was pleased with my haircut, but she just looked at me and said nothing. She handed me her card and walked off. Driving home, my mind was flooded with thoughts of how Rhonda "penetrated" me, what that meant, if anything, and I was acutely aware of not having anyone in my life to love. I felt embarrassed by how much I revealed about my struggles. I also thought she was unusually bitchy for being in a service oriented profession. I was feeling so desperate that my train of thought went from thinking about how much I wanted to be anally raped by her, to feeling very impaired and confused. I thought to myself, "Your lonely, feeling your age, you go get a hair style, the woman is very unfriendly, and not very attractive, but she sticks her finger in your ear, and now you want her to fuck you. You sick fuck!" My thoughts were interrupted by the vibration of my cell phone. I checked the caller ID, noting that it was the hair salon. "Oh fuck," I thought, "There's a problem with my next appointment." Much to my surprise, it was Rhonda. "It's Rhonda, from the day spa. I live at 1395 E. Waters Drive. I get off work in one hour. Meet me at my house at 8:30." Before I could say anything, the line went dead. "What the fuck was that?" I thought to myself. I figured she was either messing with my head, or felt sorry for me. Confused and shaking, I decided to drive to her address. I drove around her block twice, knowing I should run like hell, but desperately hoping it would be alright to knock on the door and at least see what she wanted. I cautiously pulled into the driveway all the while wondering what the fuck I was doing. "I don't know this woman from a hole in the wall, she was rude to me at the salon, and here I am, at her doorstep." I rang the doorbell; much to my relief, she opened the door. She didn't say a word, just looked at me, and motioned for me to enter the premises. She told me to have a seat in her living room. Pacing the room, she explained, "I know who you are. I saw your personal ad on the Internet, the one where you are in search of a dominant woman to serve." Embarrassed by her recognizing me from the picture in my profile, I sheepishly bowed my head, averted my gaze and said, "Yes, that's my personal." She stated, "Rule number one, you need to speak only when I give you permission to do so. Now, how much experience do you have in serving a mistress and how far you gone in your submissive role? You may answer the question." "Hmm," I thought, "This might be interesting." I explained that I felt totally adrift not having a mistress to serve, and I imagined I would feel infinitely more "normal" if I were able to have that kind of relationship in my life. I briefly reviewed my relationship with Lisa and admitted I'd been in search of a relationship with a dominant woman ever since. After listening to my story, she seemed convinced I was sincere in my submissive desires. "Take off your clothes and go sit in the corner," she demanded. I of course complied. I was embarrassed by my erection, so I sat with my knees up to my chest, holding my ankles for dear life. "Mistress" Rhonda just looked at me and said, "You're pathetic. Look at you, sitting there with a boner. Do I make you that excited?" I asked, "Is that a question, Mistress?" She replied, "No, just be quiet until I am ready to hear what you have to say to me." She removed her shoes and socks. With her jeans still hugging her plump ass, and her little tee shirt hugging her smallish breasts, she left the room to fix herself a drink. Mistress Rhonda came back into the living room sipping an Amaretto on the rocks and musing, "What the fuck am I supposed to do with you now?" I said nothing and sat in the corner as I was told to do. "Come over hear and sit on the floor in front of me while I finish my drink." I crawled over on all fours and sat on the floor in front of her quietly. She sat on the couch for 30 minutes, watching a bit of an old Steven Segal movie. After a while, she got up and went into her bedroom. When she came out, she was wearing black fishnet pantyhose, and a little black spaghetti string tee shirt. She was also holding a collar attached to a chain, and brandished a black leather switch, the kind they use for horses. "Holy shit, she's for real!" I thought to myself. She put the collar on me, tethered me to the foot of the couch and went into the kitchen to fix another drink. "She looks a lot prettier in her mistress uniform," I thought to myself. Her black fishnet pantyhose highlighted her shapely ass; I could barely make out her shaven slit. When she came back into the living room, she continued sipping her drink, smoking a cigarette, and watching the movie. She reached over to pet my hair; much like a loving dog owner would pet their dog. Running her fingers through my new hairstyle, she commented, "I think I did a pretty good job on your hair." "Yes, I think so too, I really like it," I replied excitedly. Mistress Rhonda slowly but deliberately put her drink down, took one more drag on her cigarette, told me to turn around and put my face into the couch cushion. I was confused but did as I was told. With my face buried in the couch, and on all fours, she snapped her switch on my tender ass. I bit my lip and dared not scream as she swatted me a total of ten times. At first, I welcomed the discipline, arching my ass upward to take my medicine with pleasure. In my mind, each swat was a representation of her affection for me. After the first five swats, my ass started really stinging. She seemed to be swatting harder with each successive blow. By number eight, I was no longer offering my cheeks to her. Instead, I just braced myself for the blows and prayed it would be over soon. "Do you know why you need discipline?" she asked. I remained silent. "Exactly right," she explained, "if I wanted an answer to my question, I would've asked for one." When she was done, she told me to sit back down on the floor and finish watching the movie with her. When the movie was over, she unhooked the chain from the foot of the couch and walked me over to her bedroom. She told me to lie on the bed, face up with hands above my head and legs spread. I did as I was told. She secured the collar and chain to the bedpost, and examined by prone body. "I don't know why you're having trouble finding a woman," she said. "You have a very nice body." "Thanks," I impulsively replied. Suddenly, I could see the coldness grow on her face. I thought, "This bitch is going to fuck me up!" "I see you've not learned your lesson," she said sternly. She went into her closet and pulled out more of her arsenal. She bound my hands to the headboard, secured my feet to the footboard and blindfolded me. I was completely at her mercy. Despite my fear of her, I was also extremely turned on. I then felt the sting of her switch on my torso and legs. She remained silent as she swatted me over and over. She snapped her switch on my penis. I winced in pain each time she swatted me but dared not say a word. She stopped after what seemed like an eternity and calmly explained, "If I hear one more word from you, this session will end and you will be out the door. Got it?" I said nothing, but thought to myself, "I feel so connected to this woman right now." "Good, so now we understand each other," she said. I could hear her moving about the room, and soon, felt her body crawl onto the bed. She sat on my chest, straddling my face. "Smell my pussy," she demanded. I lifted my head to take in the sweet aroma of her warm crotch. It had sweetness to it along with that familiar hint of moist flesh. I so wanted to taste her but was afraid she would inflict her discipline on me or worse, that she would end the session. My body was still stinging from her last disciplinary tactics; frankly, I was beaten into submission. "Inhale through your nose deeply, tell me what it smells like," she said. I breathed deeply, and lustfully whispered, "It smells like heaven, warm and delicious." "Good boy," she said. Mistress Rhonda lifted herself off my chest and positioned herself between my legs. I heard a drawer opening and the snapping of a plastic bottle cap. I heard the sounds of her hands rubbing together and felt the warmth of her now well oiled hands on my limp cock. She massaged my balls, and stroked my shaft until I was hard again. Slowly, she massaged my penis with very deliberate, slow strokes. With one hand, she pulled on my balls, while the other slowly stroked my thick shaft. My breathing got deeper as I cocked my head to the side, enjoying the wonderful gift she was giving me. Mistress Rhonda was expert at reading the signs of my body. Each time I sensed the tension of orgasmic pleasure mounting, she backed off. After about four cycles of tension building and then her backing off, I intensely craved release. I tried being furtive about my mounting tension, hoping to release my load without her knowing it was coming, but she was far too expert for that little trick. "Stop trying to hide your excitement or you will be going home," she exclaimed. I bit my lower lip as she continued to tease me to the point of orgasm and then backed off. "Enough of this shit," she declared. "What would you like me to do to you?" "Mistress Rhonda," I said. "I would love nothing more than to have you ride my cock." She laughed and explained, "You think I'm that easy? You think you deserve to feel yourself deep inside me? You think I'm a little tramp? Let me tell you something Mister, if you want to fuck me, you need to serve me well. I only fuck the most deserving slaves, got it?" I said nothing. She got up from bed; I could hear her rustling about. When she took off my blindfold, I saw that she had gotten dressed. She released my hands and feet, undid the collar, and told me to go home. My face displayed obvious disappointment as I gathered my clothes and headed for the door. "Call me on my cell phone as soon as you get home, so I know you arrived safely, O.K. dear?" "Yes Mistress," I said as I left her home. Submissive Love Ch. 02 When I arrived home, I called Mistress Rhonda as instructed, to let her know I arrived safely. During our brief conversation, she explained, "You know Ian; it was a pleasure to meet you. I think you show definite potential to be a top shelf submissive." I thanked her for the compliment, asking, "When can I see you again." "That depends on you dear," she explained. "I want you to think about tonight for a few days. You need to think about how serious you are about submitting to me. I'll call you after you've had time to think. In the mean time, I want you to do something for me." "Yes Mistress?" I cautiously replied. "There will be no masturbating until I see you again. Next time I see you, I want you horny and with a full load," she said. With that, she hung up. I was very over stimulated after the evening's activities at Mistress Rhonda's house. Driving home, I anticipated stroking my cock to thoughts of my first encounter with her. She didn't allow me to release during what turned out to be my first training session. I was ready to burst. I thought about my long term goals; ultimately deciding to comply with her request. The next few days were agonizing. I brought my cell phone with me everywhere and checked it compulsively to make sure it was working properly. Showers were rough on me. I usually masturbate in the shower. Washing my cock without having the pleasure of releasing my load was very frustrating. I woke up extremely horny in the mornings. When I returned to work on Monday, I was terribly distracted by thoughts of my time with Mistress Rhonda. I daydreamed about her teasing and torturing me. To prove my growing love for her, I refused to touch myself. I didn't hear from Mistress until Thursday at 11:30 a.m. I was on my way to a staffing when I felt my phone vibrating. My heart skipped a beat when I checked the caller ID and saw it was Mistress. "How far are you from the salon at the moment?" she asked. I explained excitedly, "I happen to be working at the clinic right down the street from you." "Good, I'm working back to back appointments all morning and need some lunch. Go to the Subway Shop. Pick me up a turkey breast and ham, with spicy mustard, mayonnaise, lettuce, salt and pepper, on white bread. Be here by 12:30," she instructed. I let my nursing staff know that I had personal obligations to tend to, and dashed to the Subway Shop near the salon. I arrived at the salon at 12:25 and waited in the car until 12:29. Obviously I was extremely desperate to please her. When I walked into the salon, Mistress was waiting at the reception desk with a slight smile on her face. I handed her the sandwich. She smiled, winked and thanked me. As I approached the door to leave the salon, she called me back to her, shouting over the dance music playing in the background, "Ian!" I came right back to her. I smiled from ear to ear as she whispered, "Good boy." I thought for sure I would hear from her later that evening, but there was no call from her. I didn't hear from her until the next day. She called around 6:30 in the evening; instructing me to meet her at the bar across the street from the salon in an hour. I thought to myself, "Fucking bitch could have given me a little more notice!" Nonetheless, being the good submissive, I showered quickly, got dressed, and arrived at the bar at the appointed time. Mistress Rhonda was sitting at the bar sipping an Amaretto and watching the ball game. She looked very hot in her tight jeans, black tennis shoes and snug black mock turtleneck. I sat next to her, smiling and making sure to not speak until I had permission. I kept my eyes down to avert direct eye contact. "Order me another drink," she demanded. I signaled to the bartender to bring us another Amaretto on the rocks and a Fosters. We didn't speak during our time at the bar. I watched the Yankees beat the Red Sox while she sipped her drink and eyed the younger men that hovered around her. It pissed me off, but I remained steadfast in my ambitions for the evening. When she was done with her drink, she told me to pay the tab and follow her to her house. I did as I was told. I followed closely behind her black Saab convertible. When we entered her house, she directed me to take my clothes off and sit in the hot tub. I, of course, complied. The temperature of the water was perfect. I became terribly excited by the site of her walking out on the deck in the nude. She looked stunning in the moonlight of a clear Friday night. She eased herself into the hot tub, put her foot on my already erect penis, pressed her foot on my balls, and ran her toes along my rigid shaft. "Did you masturbate while you were away from me, you little bitch?" she asked. I said nothing. "You may answer," she said. "No Mistress, I held out for you," I proudly declared. "I don't believe you, how do I know you're not lying to me?" "Well, I can beat off for you right here and prove it to you," I said coyly. She thought for a moment..., "Hmm, Ok, that sounds fair. Sit on the edge of the hot tub and masturbate for me." Easing myself out of the steamy water, I sat on the deck of the hot hub. My cock was rock hard and ready to explode. I grabbed my shaft with my right hand and reached behind to finger my asshole with my left. This was the longest I'd gone without a masturbatory orgasm in years. "You like to play with your asshole I see," she said, settling into the steamy water while slowly fingered her freshly shaved pussy. I continued stroking my cock while penetrating myself. It made me very horny watching her pleasure herself. Judging by the look in her eye and the intensity of her masturbation, she enjoyed the view as well. In no time at all, I felt my cock getting very sensitive. Closing my eyes, preparing to have what I anticipated to be a massive orgasm, she exclaimed, "Ok, stop! I don't want you shooting your load in my clean water. I guess I believe you. You're either very ready to cum or have been beating off all week and are a very virile man. Either way, I'm satisfied that you have a full load waiting for me. Sit back down and relax." I was panting with lust and frustration, but dared not show my disappointment. I reflected on the beatings she inflicted on me during our last encounter. Even though I was convinced I was falling in love with her, I was nonetheless afraid of her torturous side. I eased back into the water, trying to calm myself down. "Go in and get me a towel, dear," she sweetly demanded. Upon entering the bathroom to retrieve her towel, I stumbled upon her strap-on sitting on the counter, apparently drying after having been cleaned. I licked my lips, anticipating she would find me worthy enough to fuck me. I went back out to the deck and brought her a towel. Climbing out of the hot tub, she instructed, "Put the cover on the hot tub, and go take a shower." I did as I was told. As I showered, I startled at the sound of the bathroom door opening. She called out, "Make sure you wash your ass, you slut!" I washed my ass quietly and obediently. Mistress Rhonda opened the shower door armed with what appeared to be a nine inch, well lubricated strap-on dildo. "Turn around and face the wall," she demanded. I was so fucking excited that I turned around immediately and put my hands against the wall, as if I were being asked to "spread em" for the police. Mistress stepped behind me, pressing the tip of her dildo against my receptive anus. "I normally don't give my slaves the pleasure of fucking them on the second date, but you were so sweet to bring my lunch on such sort notice that I thought I'd reward you handsomely," she said. I said nothing for fear of speaking out of turn. I didn't want to do anything to upset Mistress or otherwise make her change her mind. "Mmm," I quietly moaned as she pressed her dildo against my anus. I felt it penetrating the boundary of my sphincter. Breathing deeply and slowly, I tried to relax so I could take all of her. As she pushed harder, I felt the intense sensation of my ass being penetrated. I breathed lustfully as she continued to slide herself into me. With one final thrust, she shoved it up my ass. "Oh shit," I squealed as she entered me completely. Mistress reached around to pinch my nipples. She continued her anal assault, slowly pulling out of me, and then slowly sliding herself back into the depths of my ass. My head was spinning, but I refused to give in to the pain, focusing only on the pleasure she was giving me. She grabbed my hips and thrust herself forcefully into me. "Oh Mistress, thank you...," I moaned. "Tell me how you like it, you little slut," she demanded. It took all I could muster to gather my words. "Fuck me Mistress, fuck me good. Mmm, yeah, punish me with your cock, Oh, right there," I panted. Mistress continued thrusting herself into me, grabbing my hips and pulling me towards her. After a time, she pulled out of me. I ached at the sudden emptiness I felt when we were no longer physically connected. "Quit pouting you little bitch. Bend over, grab your ankles and shut the fuck up," she said sternly. I reach down to grab my ankles, took a deep breath and took all she had to offer. She slid her big dick in and out of me, deeper and harder with every thrust of her hips. After what seemed like hours, but was probably only minutes, she pulled out of me, removed her strap-on and demanded that I get on my knees. "Lick my pussy, you little cunt," she demanded. With the water from the shower hitting my back, I lapped her pussy with long luscious strokes of my tongue. I stopped at her clit; running circles around it with my over excited mouth and tongue. She seemed very excited by my orally pleasuring her. She propped her leg on the side of the tub while I continued to lick and suck her wonderfully bald pussy. God, I wanted to swallow her whole! She pulled away and declared, "You're pathetic! Finish showering while I take care of myself." I reluctantly got off my aching knees and lathered my body while she leaned against the shower wall, slipping her dildo inside her now aching pussy. "This is how you do it, you pathetic half-a dick." She rubbed her clit to orgasm, leaving me feeling woefully inadequate. When she was done, she demanded I dry her. I rubbed her gently with her towel and waited for my instructions. My ass was still numb from her fucking me and frankly, I secretly loved it! "Go to the bedroom and stand in the corner," she instructed. I did as I was told. Mistress entered the bedroom shortly thereafter, reclining on the bed. I reflected on how beautiful she looked compared to when I first met her at the salon. She was no longer solidly below average in my mind. I now had her on a pedestal. She lay back on the bed; rubbing her breasts and propping her leg up so I could get a good view of her beautiful pussy. She knew it was fucking gorgeous and deliberately tormented me with it. She gently teased her pussy with her index finger; running slow circles around her vaginal opening to stimulate her juices. I have to admit, Mistress had arguably the most beautiful genitals I've ever seen. When she is not sexually excited, her lips barely peak out from her slit. All I could think was that her labia was like a hungry animal, craving prey. As she gently pleasured herself in front of me, I stared at her crotch as if in a trance. She has very meaty pussy lips that seem to create a luscious perimeter around her soft inner flesh. Tracing light circles around her clitoris made it peek out like a timid little kitten following its curiosity. I remained in the corner, erect and lost in lust. Mistress was also apparently lost in thought as she lay on the bed gently massaging her pussy. I was terribly excited but dared not say a word for fear she would send me on my way. I craved release. As if she read my mind, Mistress whispered, "Pull that cedar chest over to the end of the bed, take some of my oil from the bedside table, lubricate your cock, gently stand on the chest, and jerk off for me. I want you to shower your cum all over me. If I hear one little creak coming from my cedar chest, you can get the fuck out." I did as I was told. I cautiously stood on the cedar chest, carefully putting my feet on the edges of the chest so as to minimize the probability of making it creak. Now standing above her sprawled naked body, I signed with relief that I was able to stand on it without risking an abrupt end to the evening. I grabbed my slippery cock and slowly slid my hand up and down my shaft. My balls moved in harmony with my strokes. Mistress lustfully uttered, "You are definitely learning fast, my little slut. Oh yeah, stroke that cock sweetie, stroke it nice and slow. That's it...Oh that makes me so hot." I slowly but deliberately moved my hand up and down my engorged shaft; I grabbed it with one hand and rubbed my swollen head with the other. As I did so, Mistress inched down to the edge of the bed, grabbed a pillow to put under her ass, and lifted her hips while spreading her legs wide. She grabbed her ankles and spread her legs as wide as they could go. Filled with desire, she said, "Spray me, you little cunt, give me what I crave." Her words got me so excited that I couldn't hold back. I had not cum in over a week and was ready to burst. I increased the pace and intensity of my masturbation while she held her legs open for me. In seconds, I felt the sensation building. The gates that guarded my semen opened with a fury. "Oh god, here it comes baby. I've been saving it for you!" I moaned as my load came spewing out. Cum landed on her belly; a huge wad caught her inner thigh. She released her grip on her ankles and rubbed cum into her aching vagina, furiously fingered herself as I drained the last bits of sticky fluid from my spent cock. Mistress was silent as she rubbed my semen into her genitals. "Come down from there and lick me clean," she demanded. I gently got off the cedar chest and knelt on the side of the bed. She sat on the edge of the bed and leaned back so I could lick cum off her. I've never tasted my own cum, but was pleasantly surprised at the sweetness of it. I lapped at her belly, taking in my own juices. She lay back, spreading her legs so I could get to work on her pussy. I licked her outer lips, opened my mouth wide to suck her genitals, and spread her lips to lap up any remaining juices from her inner flesh. I felt her pussy getting full engorged and prepared myself for what I knew would be a treat. Sure enough, as I flicked my tongue furiously over her erect clit, I heard her moan and felt the sensations of her pussy pulsing in my mouth. I stopped moving, resting my mouth on her vagina and allowing her to cum without distraction. Her pussy pulsed repeatedly in my mouth. "Good job!" she signed, trying to be stern but knowing that she was spent. She reached into the closet for the collar and chain. "Lay down on the side of the bed," she demanded. I did as I was told. She tethered me to the bed. "Now, go to sleep. You want a blanket?" she asked. I said nothing. "You may answer," she demanded. "Yes mistress," I said. Mistress Rhonda wrapped me in a wonderfully warm goose down comforter. She kissed my forehead. She slid under her sheets and thanked me for being so obedient over the course of the week. "You know Ian; I've had the same problem as you over the years. It's hard to find a true submissive." Curled in a fetal position, warm and cozy on her lush bedroom rug, and tied to her bedpost, I drifted off to sleep, smiling at the thought that we found each other. Submissive Love Ch. 03 I hardly slept that first night Mistress granted me the privilege of sleeping over at her house. It mattered not that I slept on the floor, tethered to her bed frame. I was grateful to her for allowing me the privilege of being in her presence while she slept. I longed to crawl in bed with her, but feared her sending me away if I violated her dictates. It was enough to have the pleasure of hearing her breathe. I imagined she was tired from our session earlier in the evening. I finally drifted to sleep around 3 a.m. When she stirred around 7 a.m. the next morning, I was wide eyed and attentive to whatever she might desire from me. "Would you like a cup of coffee?" she asked sweetly. I waited for permission to answer. "Oh never mind, silly boy," she said. After a few minutes, she brought in two cups, and sat naked on the floor across from me. I was overwhelmed by the sight of her soft, relaxed breasts and her slightly engorged vaginal lips. Surprisingly, there was a slight pout to her expression. Her expression, together with her tussled hair, made her look curiously vulnerable. In the midst of my desperation to please her, to submit to her, and hopefully to be accepted by her, I failed to notice the helplessness she conveyed in her expression. Gazing at her, I had the passing fantasy that she felt terribly alone. She noticed I was distracted by her nakedness and asked, "What the matter Ian? Are you captivated by pussy?" I remained silent. "You may answer. In fact, because you've been so wonderful, you may answer my questions without needing to wait for permission. You've served me well thus far and you deserve the privilege," she explained. "Well, as a matter of fact, yes Mistress, I not only worship your genitals, but frankly, I'm very taken by all of you. Not just by your pussy, but by all of what you've allowed me to experience with you so far. I'm taken by all you have to offer: your compassion, your directness, the firm hand by which you treat me. Being with you makes me crave to submit fully and completely," I explained. "You're sweet to say that, Ian," she said nervously giggling. She bashfully responded as she sipped her coffee, "In many ways, I'm just a regular girl who works hard, spends too many nights alone, and keeps searching for what I know I need in the relationship department." I was astonished by the soft, almost desperate way she was relating to me this morning. I thought perhaps she was not fully awake. She was apparently unaware of how she was coming across. I grew accustomed to her expressions of anger and irritation with me. True, she winked at me when I brought her lunch last week, but her show of pleasure seemed more for the display of the her co-workers and not necessarily for me. What she was showing me this morning was completely new. "What shall we do on this glorious Saturday morning?" she queried. "Whatever you want Mistress. I'm yours for the day," I explained. Mistress seemed lost in thought as she pondered what to do with me. "I usually go to the Farmers Market on Saturday mornings. I'd like it if you came with me to get fresh fruits and veggies." I responded gleefully, "I would like that!" Mistress confessed, "I really like you Ian, but frankly, I've been misled in the past by self proclaimed submissive men who think they're ready to be in a relationship with me, only to discover that once I let them into my heart, they're fakes. They turn out to be men who are just in it for the kick of serving a woman once or twice but not serious about trusting me enough to really submit in the way that I need. I need a man who understands why I treat them the way I do; a man who understands the dynamics of this kind of relationship. I want to be as enslaved to him as I make him enslaved to me. When I force my will on him, he has to understand that I am captivated by his willingness to submit to me. Your submission brings me closer to you. When I fuck you hard, it's because I want you to fuck me harder. When I swat the shit out of you, it's because I want you to love me. Not many men understand that about me. I need that so much but it's very hard to find." Mistress paused for a moment. Her eyes glazed over. She seemed confused and angry, as if she said more than she wanted to about her emotional life. Suddenly, she grabbed her hair in frustration and slammed her fist to the floor. She cried out, "Why the fuck am I telling you this? Shit...!" She grabbed the coffee cup out of my hand and stormed out of the room, leaving me on the floor, tethered and confused. I heard the rattling of dishes in the kitchen. She turned on the television. I heard gunshots and cursing, apparently from yet another action movie she decided to watch. I imagined she was calming her nerves. I sat for nearly 90 minutes, still tethered to her bed. Eventually I lay back down, pulling the comforter over me and curling up in a fetal position to keep warm. When she came back to the bedroom, she untied me from the bed frame. Her expression was cold as ice. "Get the fuck out of my house your little bitch!" she demanded. My mouth dropped in shock and disappointment. There was no way I could hide the flood of rejection and despair. Despite the tears welling up, I stayed focused on what I knew I ultimately wanted, and said nothing. I quickly reviewed how vulnerable she made herself earlier this morning. I assumed she was overwhelmed with her feelings for me and needed her space. I gathered my things and headed for the door. I hoped she'd have some parting words for me, but none were forthcoming. I wanted to slam the fucking door in a fit of rage, but thought better of it. I just left. A week went by without as much as a phone call from Mistress. I took a few days off from work because of my profound sadness. I came so close to something I've wanted for years. Despite my rage, I couldn't even convince myself that she wasn't the right woman for me. I tried comparing her to my abusive ex-wife, but in the end, I kept coming back to failing to understand how she could reject me after giving myself completely to her. I, of course, blamed myself. I thought, "I'm getting too fucking old. She realized I'm just a pathetic aging submissive little pussy. I hate myself. If I had the guts, I would hurt myself." I also had plenty of time to think about what happened on that fateful Friday evening and Saturday morning. I realized the problem was that she needed to maintain her dominant role. I somehow broke through her defenses and seduced her more vulnerable side. It just pissed her off and led to my rejection. I decided if she ever called again, I would be such a "bad boy" that she would have no choice but to abuse the shit out of me. In my mind, it would be the only way to get her back into my life. Two weeks passed and I was going out of my mind. Morbidly depressed and horribly lonely, I decided the time had come to take action. I pondered how to provoke her into bringing me back into her life. I decided to make an appointment at the hair salon where she works, but schedule an appointment with another hair stylist. I needed to see her, and imagined that when she saw me, she would remember the importance of our connection. I called the Salon and asked if Rhonda was working and what times she had available. They told me that she had a 6:30 p.m. open, which informed me that she was working that evening. I asked the receptionist if anyone else had openings at that time. Much to my relief, Jill happened to have a cancellation at that time. "Perfect!" I thought. I scheduled with Jill for 6:30. When I walked into the salon, I saw Mistress sweeping hair off the floor from her previous appointment. Walking back with Jill, I made eye contact with Mistress. I could see the look of surprise in her eyes. She turned away to ignore me. Mistress had someone book her 6:30 slot, so she was stuck having to cut hair while I sat two stations down. I was friendly and as flirtatious as possible with Jill. I spoke in a loud voice, telling her how much I loved her hair, and how talented she was at giving scalp massages. When Jill and I were done, I turned away from Rhonda and walked off, not even giving her the satisfaction of a look in her direction. I happened to glance at a mirror on my way back to the cashier's station. I saw Rhonda staring at me as if she was burning a hole in my ass. Mission accomplished. I fully expected a call from Mistress, but much to my disappointment, my phone was deadly silent. I finally crashed about midnight only to be woken up at about 12:30 a.m. by the lyrics of Maxi Priest's "Close to you." I stupidly gave Mistress her own ring tone on my phone. For the last few weeks I felt foolish for doing so. I gathered myself quickly and responded, "Yes Mistress?" "You fucking asshole!" she shouted. "How dare you come into the shop and put on that display. You let that whore touch my work! You little fucking pathetic prick! Get the fuck over here right now. I'm gonna fuck you up bitch." The line went dead. I dressed quickly and drove to her house. Reflecting on her phone call, I realized she sounded very angry and a little drunk. When I arrived, there was a note on the door. It read, "You are the biggest, most pathetic asshole I have ever met!" When I opened the door, Mistress was waiting in the living room. I closed the door and waited patiently at the bottom of the stairs for instructions. She was finishing her drink and watching yet another action movie. I guess action movies gave her an outlet for her aggression. Anyway, she kept me standing there with my head bowed for an hour. Finally, she got up and came to the entryway. She looked beautiful. Her hair was deliberately tussled and had good height to it. She was bare breasted and wearing stunning black knee high boots with crotch-less black pantyhose. "I hate your hair cut. I can't believe you let that little cunt touch you," Mistress said with a bitterness that was frankly frightening. I wanted to run out of the house, but was desperate to maintain a connection with this woman. I needed her. "Come up here, take off your clothes, and go into the kitchen. There you'll find a pair of nipple clamps. You will clamp them on your nipples. Then come kneel in front of me while I watch my movie and have another drink." I apprehensively did as I was told. I felt a little silly pinching myself with the nipple clamps but at that point, I was willing to do anything to remain in her life. The clamps certainly stung as I attached them. The sharp pain was overtaken by a numbness that made it tolerable. I knelt down in front of her and dared not stare at her beautiful pussy that was now prominently displayed in from of me. She reached under the couch cushion, pulled out a leather strap and bound my hands behind me. She explained sternly, "Ian, you disappoint me. I would've never thought you had the nerve to come to the shop like that. You let her touch the hair I worked so hard to craft for you." Her anger seemed to slowly soften as I knelt in front of her restrained, in pain, and at her mercy. While smoking a cigarette, she reflected, "I thought a lot about you during our time apart. You scare me. As much as I like you, you seem to understand me too well." She paused for a moment, "The closeness scares me. I ran. But now, here you are. In your own pathetic way, you came back after me." "Yes Mistress," I replied cautiously. "That was sweet of you. Now..., I'm going to watch this movie and have another drink. You lay your head on the couch right in front of my crotch. If you touch my pussy, you will be going home. Got it?" "Yes Mistress," I cautiously responded. When she returned with her drink, she positioned herself in front of me, propping her right leg on the arm of the couch, settling into watching the movie and sipping her Amaretto on the rocks. I lay my head on the couch cushion like a puppy dog. Her vibrant pussy was right in front of my face. I examined the folds of her gorgeous cunt and inhaled her sweet scent. For nearly an hour, she sat there, occasionally running her hand along her slit to spread her vaginal lips in from of my eyes. When she spread her lips for me, I could see the moisture glistening deep inside her vagina. It gathered like a sticky pool of dew. I so wanted to lap it up. By now, my nipples were immune to the pinching of the clamps. I felt a tremendous ache coming from my cock. It was enormously frustrating to be so excited by the sight of her but not be able to touch her or myself. I felt the moisture building on the surface of my cock. I was over stimulated but could do nothing about it. When the movie was finally over, she turned off the television and reclined to play with her pussy. I watched as she gently rubbed her outer lips, running slow circles around her growing clitoris. She pulled its little hood back to expose her wanting gland. In time, she began fingering herself more deliberately and in short order I could hear her sigh deeply and moan with pleasure. Her pussy was now extremely wet. As she climaxed, she pulled her hand away so as to torment me with the pulsing of her sweet inner flesh. She remained motionless after her orgasm, treating me to the sight of her spent pussy. Her lips dangled to one side and were slightly spread as she rubbed her breasts in the afterglow of what seemed like a very nice orgasm. "Lick up my juices," she demanded as she rubbed and licked her own nipple. I slowly stuck out my tongue and licked up her slit like I was licking my favorite flavor of ice cream. With long, slow licks, I lapped up the sweet aftermath of her pleasuring herself. When I was done licking her clean, she helped me off my knees and escorted me to the bedroom. My legs were a little wobbly from kneeling for so long. She removed the clamps from my slightly bruised nipples, undid my ties, and told me to get her restraints from the closet. When I approached her with restraints in hand, I was surprised to see her pouting and in obvious emotional pain. She slowly whispered, "Restrain me to the bed, Ian." I was surprised at this little twist of fate but complied nonetheless. I restrained her arms above her head and secured each foot to the footboard. She was spread eagle, face up, and completely vulnerable. I stood silently waiting for her directions. She hesitantly and desperately called my name, "Ian...," "Yes Mistress...," I replied. I saw tears making their way down her cheeks. "Will you please make love to me?" she whispered weakly. I was shocked by her willingness to make herself so vulnerable. I recognized at that moment how much she really cared for me. She obviously struggles with closeness and trust, but here she was giving herself completely to me, offering her body for my pleasure. I wanted desperately to tell her that I love her but was afraid of scaring her off. Her heart is obviously tender and very timid. "Yes mistress," said in response to her request. I knelt beside her, kissing her puckered nipples, biting them gently. I traced my tongue along her belly and gently licked her pussy. With my mouth moistened from her sweetness, I reached up to kiss her deeply. Her mouth opened softly to my lips. She whimpered. Tears rolled down her cheeks as we kissed passionately. Seamlessly, I positioned myself on top of her, slipping my aching cock inside of her. 'Oh," she breathlessly panted. Each thrust of mine was followed by a gently moan from her. She threw her head back in response to the pleasure of being filled completely by me. I could feel my tension mounting. I reached down to caress her ass, pulling her closer to me. Her ass was moist from the dripping of her vaginal secretions. I slipped a finger in her ass as I released into her. 'Oh my god," she exclaimed as she quivered simultaneously with me. I held her tight as our bodies contracted in mutual pleasure. I lay motionless on top of her, spent and in awe of what just happened. "Undo my ties baby," she requested. I loosened her hands and feet, and waited for my instructions. She asked that I lay on my side, next to her. I did as I was told. Mistress Rhonda pulled the comforter over us, and positioned herself so that she was spooning with me. She curled her knees behind mine, gently rubbed my sore nipple and pressed herself against me. "Good night Ian, I love you," she whispered. I remained silent, for fear of scaring her off. I'm a fast learner. Drifting off to sleep, I was happy. I knew in my heart that we would take good care of each other for a long time to come.