Learning to Submit Ch. 03

It was about 10 weeks into my relationship with Brad when our next extra-ordinary encounter took place. You see, it was one week after my marriage to Joey, and he insisted that we wait to go on our honeymoon so that we could save money on the trip. Brad did not let me down, though; he had something special in mind for me.

Brad and I met for lunch on Tuesday, and I was hoping that we could sneak in a noon-time submission session sometime that week. He didn’t bring it up, though, acting normal during lunch. My heart sank when he said good bye and turned towards his office after lunch was done. I watched him walk away and craved his control. Sighing, I started back towards my own office.

My cell phone rang as I walked, so I answered it after ducking out of foot traffic.

“Hello?”

“Is you cunt wet after lunch, Bitch?”

“Uhhh… yes. Yes it is.”

“Yes… who?”

“Master,” I whispered. I hoped that no one paid attention to me as I breathed that word into the phone.

“Excellent. You will pay for having to be prompted to address me correctly. This weekend, in fact. I suggest that you tell Joey that you have a client meeting out of town. I don’t really care what you tell him, though. Just be at my apartment on Friday at 6:30pm and don’t expect to leave until Sunday night. If you want I’ll drop you off at the airport so that Joey can ‘pick you up.’”

How thoughtful of him. The bastard was putting me in a tight spot, and he knew it. It would be tough to explain this unexpected trip to Joey “What shall I wear, Master?”

“Whatever you would normally wear to work, but no bra or panties by the time you get to my apartment.”

“I’ll be there, Master.”

“Of course you will.” He hung up, leaving me standing in the street with a dead phone and a hot vagina.

I made the arrangements I needed to make in order to convince Joey that I was out of town. I even looked at the incoming flights for Sunday to tell him when I would be in. I specifically picked one that landed late in the night so that there would be less of a chance that he would want to come pick me up at the airport. Infidelity leads one to incredible lengths of deception.

On Friday afternoon I treated myself and left work early. I wandered the maze of malls located beneath the buildings downtown, considering my situation. It was clear that I had developed more than a sexual relationship with Brad. The games that he and I played touched a nerve within me. The dual emotions of lust/disgust and desire/repulsion turned me on in ways I had never though possible. What I had envisioned being a one-time fling before I got married was turning into a profound connection between Brad and I. I loved Joey, but I was finding him less and less sexually attractive. He would never want me submit to him, and I would not submit to him even if did. Finally, at about 5:30 I wandered into one of the more scummy parts of the mall to find a washroom. I felt like such a dirty slut, wandering into a mall washroom to remove my clothes for my master; doing in the sleaziest bathroom I could find made me even hotter.

I made it to Brad’s apartment on time. He was speaking with the concierge when I arrived, so he met me at the door. The “luggage” that I had brought with me to work had been couriered to Brad’s building, so it was waiting for me when I got there. While we were in the lobby and hallway, Brad and I were only courteous with each other. However, once he got me into his apartment our demeanours changed. As soon as I was in the door I knelt and faced him.

“Off with the clothes. Now.”

I silently shed my clothes: no easy task when you are kneeling. That familiar feeling of humiliation/arousal made my skin flush red as I complied with his order.

He opened his pants and stepped closer to me. He grabbed me by the hair and shoved his stiffening penis into my mouth. I had no control. He became fully erect and started to slide his member in and out of my mouth. I knew what my role was, and I sucked on him just as he liked. I noticed that I no longer did this to avoid his wrath or to propagate the game: I wanted – really wanted – to bring pleasure to my master.

He slid in and out faster and faster, and I knew that he was soon to shoot several squirts of semen into my mouth. I craved it. I had been conditioned to associate that taste with degradation, and that was turning me on. He pulled of my mouth and pushed me backwards, so that I was lying on my back with my feet underneath my bottom. It was not the most comfortable position, I assure you. He then walked away into the kitchen.

I wanted to ask him if anything was wrong, to enquire why he did not release all over my face or down my throat. However, I had not been given permission to speak, and I dared not say a word. In one of our first sessions (a story I cannot recount), I found out what happens to dirty sluts who speak out of turn. I lay in the position in which he left me, hoping for his return.

He was soon standing over me, naked, holding a beer. My heat pounded.

“Crawl to kitchen floor.”

I crawled to the kitchen like an animal. He stood behind me and watched me make my way. I got onto the tiled floor and spun around to face him and receive further instruction.

He walked to me, told me to kneel and open my mouth. I did so eagerly, hoping that he was going to resume where he had left off and give me the semen I so deeply wanted. He approached me, his erection bouncing in front of him as he walked. I felt a sense of pride that I excited him so. Instinctively, I put my hands behind my back.

He told me to close my eyes. When I was in the dark, I could sense him just in front of me.

“Catch all that you can.”

With that, the beer poured into my mouth. He knew that I hate beer – it is a lowbrow drink. It poured into my mouth and ran down my chin. I could only swallow so quickly, and the beer covered me and got all over the floor. Eventually the flow of beer stopped and I swallowed the last mouthful and gasped for air.

“Aren’t you going to thank me for the drink?”

“Thank you, Master.”

“Don’t move.”

My heart pounded as I heard him walk away and then walk back to me. I guessed that he had been in the bedroom. A moment later I could smell the lubricant he always uses. The air was thick with the aroma of beer, lubricant, and my arousal.

“On you hands and knees, facing away from me.”

I immediately complied.

“Get your ass in the air, Bitch.”

I pushed my face to the floor and got my bottom up in the air.

He then inserted a vibrating bum plug into my posterior and told me to open my eyes.

“Since you didn’t want to catch that beer as I instructed, you’ll just have to lick up what you missed. Start.”

I crawled around the kitchen floor, slurping up the disgusting mix of floor dust and beer. I tried to get as much of it as I could. Suddenly, my left buttock exploded in pain. He had whipped me with his belt.

“Thank me, Whore!”

“Ohh, th- th- thank you, Master. I deserve your…”

“I only told you to thank me!” The belt swung through the air, crashing into my bottom.

I had a fleeting concern about explaining the belt marks to Joey, but any thoughts of him quickly vanished.

The belt swished through the air again, making contact with my exposed bum. Every time it hit, it pushed the plug in just a little bit further.

“Thank you, Master.”

Swish.

“Thank you, Master.”

And so it went until I had licked at most of the kitchen floor.

“Get up, Slut. I can’t stand here all day while you try to clean this up.”

I rose and faced him.

He handed me a sponge mop and told me to turn around. I complied and he pulled the plug out of my behind. It was painful to have it come out, but I noticed the void it left. He grabbed me by my hair and forced the plug into my mouth, telling me to mop the floor.

As I worked I saw myself in the mirror: mopping up beer from a kitchen floor I had just licked with a plug in my mouth that had just been in my anus. The sight and situation was too much, and I had a small orgasm.

“Don’t think I missed that, Bitch. That one will cost you.”

I finished up in the kitchen as Brad leered at me. When I was done he told me to follow him into the living room. I followed after him and knelt on the floor next to him as he sat on the couch. As soon as I knelt, he told me to crawl back to the kitchen to get him another beer. When I came back he took the butt plug from my mouth, re-lubed it, and inserted it again into my bottom.

After two more bottles of beer, Brad had to urinate. He told me to hold a beer bottle up to the end of his penis. I did, making sure that his urine would flow straight into the bottle.

He started to urinate. I knelt there transfixed. The bottle was getting warm in my hands as it filled with his urine. The first bottle filled up and so I had to make a quick exchange with another empty bottle. After he was done, he had me lick him clean.

“Crawl onto the balcony with those bottles, Cunt, and don’t spill any piss on my carpets.”

I slowly made my way out to the balcony with the bottles, thankful that I didn’t spill any. Brad, naturally, walked behind me admiring the sight. The concrete of the balcony was cold on my hands and knees, and the night air chilled my bones. Brad pushed me up into a kneeling position.

“You think that I’m going to make you drink one of those bottles don’t you, Bitch?”

“Please, Master… let be… I mean I’ll be…”

“Shut up.”

I saw him bring out a video camera on a tripod. My heart started to race. I didn’t want him to tape me being a whore, but I was well beyond objecting. I feared that if I objected he would put a stop to our games, and I realized that I did not want to go back to only having regular sex. After the camera was set up, he turned on a bright light and aimed the camera down at me.

He pulled the plug from my bottom, much to my dismay. He replaced it with one of the bottles, much to my joy. The bottle was such an invasion, so dirty. I was his dirty, little bitch, and I loved it.

“Ride.”

I pinched the bottle as best I could with my feet, and started to ride the neck up and down. He told me to look over at the camera. As the bottle invaded me I gave a vague thought to the possibility of infection, but that soon passed as I inched towards orgasm.

“I have NOT given you permission to come. If you come you’ll have both of these bottles dumped all over you, Bitch.”

That bastard. He knew that saying that would push me over the edge. I felt my body take over from my mind, with every muscle starting to flinch.

“Ohh, Master… fuck… oh-oh. Uhh. UHHH. I… bad… you…” I was below the level of speech, even. My legs started to cramp as my sphincter grabbed the bottleneck. I knew that I was already in trouble, so I reached down to my clit and gave it a little rub. I saw stars and fell sideways into the balcony railing. I clawed at the railing and rubbed my nipple along its rough surface. Finally my orgasm subsided.

I looked up at him sheepishly.

As soon as I looked up the first deluge of urine hit me directly in the face. It trickled down my body. I kept my mouth closed, and so Brad ordered me to thank him. As I did he threw more urine at me and some of it went into my mouth.

He pushed me forward and pulled the bottle out of my ass and emptied it onto me, as well. This time, I didn’t need to be told to thank him. He was soon out of urine, so he had me lick the neck of the bottle I had sodomized myself with. I cleaned it and thanked him when I was done.

“All right, Bitch, you can stay out here for a while to dry off.”

With that he went into the apartment and closed and locked the balcony door. As I looked through the glass I could see Brad watching the tape of our recent adventure. While he has many more movies of me now, I still think that our first movie is the most erotic thing I have ever seen.

The rest of the weekend is a story for a future chapter.