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