Five Pt. 04

Five Pt. 04

soppingwetpanties

This is David's story. He is a submissive male, and provided the essence and inspiration for this work.

This story can be read standalone, though it would be helpful to read the previous installments for additional context.

This story contains watersports and male humiliation.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, merchandise, companies, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. All characters in sexual situations are 18 years or older.

*

It was pitch black outside and winter brought with it the long dark night. David craved the darkness, and loved playing in the shadows, where he could express his inner desires without judgment from others. He had long ago stepped over that invisible demarcation point between the light and the dark, and his life careened out of his control, now subject to the whims of Acadia, a forty-something trainer who exploited his unquenchable thirst for submission.

In fact it was David's submissiveness that ended his marriage that spanned more than two decades. His wife was incapable of understanding his sexual desires, and was more focused on the approval of her friends than the needs of her submissive husband. Of course it would be unfair to load the blame entirely on David's ex. David retreated into his shell the last few years of their failed marriage, and that decision eliminated any chance of salvaging their relationship.

Now an older man in his fifties, he had the usual thinning hair and carried his extra weight around his middle. He lived alone in an austere corporate apartment and was stuck in a dead end job. His salvation was Acadia. Her mind games and perverse sense of humor brought color and life into David's drab existence. It also brought about an acute sense of anxiety, as Acadia rarely signaled her intentions, leaving David often confused and humiliated.

An Uber just dropped him off in front of his corporate apartment ... a building as nondescript as he was. The streetlights were on, and he avoided their patches of brightness as he turned up the collar of his winter coat, seeking the comfort of the apartment building's heated lobby.

As he trudged uphill on the badly cracked sidewalk to the glass lobby doors he shook his head, not quite believing the "business trip" to his employer's headquarters in Cleveland. It should have been a routine visit, one that he had done many times before. But this trip was much different. Instead of being filled with endless inane power point presentations and bad coffee, it was filled with acts of deviant sex and risks no sane person would take. A shiver went up his spine when he replayed in his mind getting fucked in the ass by Danielle Mandrake, the company's HR director, in a stall in the ladies executive washroom, and being "forced" to give oral sex to a comely receptionist while supposedly retrieving a box of copy paper from the supply room. Incidents like those, and there were more, made his trip anything but routine.

Despite the added angst in his life, he judged the changes to be for the better. Acadia had rescued him from death by boredom. She saw something in his eyes when she caught him spying on her when she was disciplining one of her trainees. She saw all of it in that instant -- the sadness, the loneliness and above all the unquenchable need. She knew she was about to lose one of her subs, so his timing couldn't have been better. She had never before taken in an older man.

Acadia trained him as she promised. He learned to forget his usual male behaviors and to think about others first. Of course there were plenty of slip-ups ... and David suffered the lash of her flogger more times than he could count. He even came to appreciate the punishment and humiliation she meted out. It served as a prelude to a level of sexual gratification that was beyond words, only inner smiles.

He was a better person for it. He was more attuned to the needs of others, no matter how depraved those needs would be. Becoming to know his true self helped him became more confident. Without his training, he doubted he would have been able to hold his wits together when he was put in impossible situations and the ability to press on after abject public humiliation.

A gust of warm air interrupted his musings. He walked into the lobby standing a bit straighter than normal. His first stop was to check the mail, so he went inside an alcove that held a bank of mail boxes. He was prepared for a box stuffed full of junk mail and maybe a letter from his ex-wife with her monthly request to increase her alimony payment. He saw the back of a woman he recognized as Randy Johansson, the girl in 8C, in the apartment next to his. Her long, silky blonde hair, pulled back into a pony tail, was unmistakable. She was reading a letter when David came up behind her.

"Oh shit ... you scared me!" she exclaimed, startled by his presence.

She was as stunning as David remembered her. Natural light blonde hair, the face of a fashion model, hot pink lipstick, and brilliant Artic blue eyes. He ignored Acadia's training not to treat women as sex objects and studied her body in a split second. Long thin arms, breasts that belonged on a larger woman, just enough curve in her hips to be sexy without being cheap, and shaped and toned legs on open toed red candies with four inch heels.

It was a small confined space, so there was really no place to go other than to back out. She recovered quickly from her surprise and locked the door of her mailbox. Instead of trying to get past him, she stopped to speak to him. He was the one who was now surprised. He had probably seen her a dozen times and was certain he was a ghost. He only knew her full name because he looked at a piece of her junk mail that she tossed into the trash container. He had masturbated to her mental image. Now she was talking to him.

"So David ... David Elliott is it?"

David was absolutely stunned that she not only talked to him, but knew his full name. This was Randy. The unapproachable Goddess. She was probably in her late 20's, probably in some sort of sales position like he was. But she was young and beautiful, and someone like her would be promoted over him in no time flat. She already carried herself as if she was his boss. He couldn't help but stare at her perfect tits, their perfectly rounded shape hugged by her faded and torn powder blue "UCLA" t-shirt. Fuck, the Nordic Princess was talking to him.

The old David would have stuttered some unintelligible answer and stared at his shoes. The new David became rightfully suspicious. His trainer Acadia had already demonstrated that she was willing to recruit women from his vanilla world to use him as a sex toy. She just did it with his direct supervisor at work. Ordinarily, Randy would never give him the time of day, let alone know his name and start a conversation. He decided to play along, knowing that Acadia was in some way behind this unexpected interaction.

"Why yes, that's me. It's good to meet you ..." David said, pausing as if he didn't know her name. He patted himself on the back for remembering to feign ignorance of her name. After all, they had never been introduced.

"Oh ... sorry ... my name is Randy ... Randy Johansson.

"Well ... Randy Johansson, it's good to meet you."

David had difficulty focusing on the conversation when his eyes were fixed to her breasts. Randy waited until he made eye contact.

"Well ... Mr. Elliott ... I was having a few friends over tomorrow ... and I thought, you know, trying to be neighborly and all, that you'd like to have a few drinks with me and my girlfriends tomorrow night."

Now he knew Acadia was behind this. Hell would freeze over before Randy would invite him over to "have a few drinks" with her likely gorgeous girlfriends. He was sure she would confirm that her friends worked at the same modelling agency or something ridiculous like that. This was a trap that Acadia built and that he would willingly fall into.

"Why sure ... I think I'm free tomorrow (he of course was free every night) so ... what time?"

"Oh ... say nine?"

"Sure ... sure .... should I bring anything?"

"No ... just yourself... that'll be plenty." Her giggle reconfirmed that Acadia was pulling the strings.

She shimmied past him in the tight space. He could swear that she brushed against his hard on. She smiled when she went by, again something that was out of character in their previous casual non-interactions.

David thanked God that he met Acadia. If it wasn't for Acadia, Randy and her friends wouldn't have given him the time of day. They may want to degrade him, but there was no humiliation he was unwilling to suffer for the chance to be used by them. He watched Randy's ass move back and forth as she walked away. He was already counting the minutes until 9 p.m. the next day.

* * *

The next day was a blur for David. Word had already gotten back that his entire office in Chevy Chase was going to be asked to institute David's client retention program. His power point was already circulated to senior management directly from the CFO. There was newfound respect in the office, but David could only think of the cocktail party in Randy's apartment. What he would wear. What he would be asked to do. People were talking to him but he was hearing nothing but Randy's sweet voice.

Getting to five o'clock never took so long. He packed his briefcase precisely at five and made the fifteen minute brisk walk home. The sun was just about to set, and the lengthening shadows served to remind him that he would soon be asked to do unspeakable things by beautiful women. His cock hardened in his pants at the thought.

He remembered he would have to check in with Acadia ... it was Wednesday ... and then he would eat one of the premade vegetarian dinners that Acadia made him eat. He hated them. He hated vegetables, and these were frozen, and when defrosted they were mushy. He had already lost fifteen pounds and was looking better than he had in the last ten years. It was torture to be humiliated at cocktail parties when he couldn't partake in any of the food.

He went through the apartment building lobby and checked his mail, hoping to see Randy, but didn't. He pushed the button for the eighth floor and leaned against the back wall, holding the briefcase that his ex-wife gave to him for his fiftieth birthday. The elevator made its glacial climb to his floor, groaning to a stop and complaining when its doors opened. He dashed to his apartment, checking Randy's door as he unlocked the door to his apartment. There was no light in the crack at the bottom of her door. She wasn't home. Did he have the date and time right?

He had to focus. Acadia expected a text from him on Wednesday at 5:30 every week to check in. She of course was welcome to text him any time, and she often did, but his communication to her was limited to answering her texts and checking in on Wednesday. He grabbed a cold beer out of the refrigerator and put the separate phone, reserved just for her, in the center of his Formica topped dining room table. He drank the beer, savoring each icy sip, as he watched the clock on the phone count the minutes until it was 5:29. At that time, he put his empty beer can down and composed his text to Miss Acadia. At 5:30, he hit the send button:

David: Good afternoon Miss Acadia.

Acadia: Good afternoon Five. Excitement in a city not known for it?

David: Cleveland was exciting Miss Acadia.

Acadia: I would expect so. Got full report from Lynette.

David thought he earned the right to ask a question about Randy.

David: May I ask a question Miss Acadia?

The three dots blinked for an eternity before she answered. That meant she was displeased.

Acadia: No.

David's bottom ached. He knew he would be flogged the next time they got together for his indiscretion. But his radar was still up. Her refusal to let him ask a question probably meant she knew what he was going to ask her and she didn't want to answer. She said she would always be truthful with him, so the easiest way to avoid a question was to not let him ask it.

David: Is there anything else Miss Acadia?

The three dots blinked again. David watched them pulse on his screen.

Acadia: No.

Disappointed, David carried the phone into his bedroom and plugged it into the charger that was on his nightstand. The phone had to be on and within earshot when he was in his apartment. He made sure the ringer was in the "on" position and returned to the kitchen. He had microwaved the frozen dinner. He took the oven mitt, scarred with burns, from the empty kitchen drawer, and carried the hot plastic tray to the dinner table. The frozen dinners were delivered to his apartment on dry ice every Monday evening, and David had to be there to receive them. The dinners were delivered by Gamma, another trainee of Acadia's who was also Acadia's tax accountant. Gamma and David already had a significant amount of history together with Miss Acadia, with Gamma often the person to humiliate David and then peg him. Good times as far as David was concerned.

He flipped the plastic cover off. The cover bore the word "Wednesday," written in Gamma's handwriting. He guessed that Gamma prepared the meals. The food was divided into four equal compartments. Two of the compartments contained vegetables. They contained his least favorite -- kale and lima beans, and the other two compartments contained a grain, he guessed quinoa, and bulgur this time. He dutifully ate the entire meal, drinking plenty of beer to wash it down. Fortunately Acadia allowed him that one luxury ... beer ... so David took full advantage, buying a refrigerator full of cheap beers to slam down and expensive craft beers to savor.

He threw the empty tray into the trash, grabbed another beer, this time a craft beer, to enjoy while he got ready for Randy's party. He sipped the beer while he showered, putting the can on the top shelf above the spray. He spent extra time in the shower, soaping his shaved body thoroughly as he was trained, and then making sure he had no stubble. He took the beer out of the shower and put it on the bathroom counter next to the sink. He took a look at the mirror. His face was thinner -- it didn't look quite as paunchy, and his skin was getting a bit more evenly toned, probably from his change in diet from burgers and fries to homemade vegetarian dinners. He rubbed his chin once again to check his shaving job and then ran his comb through the few hairs he still had.

Satisfied, he went into his closet to decide what to wear. Acadia would expect him so wear something that wouldn't draw attention to himself. He chose a pair of Dockers and a cotton button down shirt. He looked like a nerd, though a clean one. He was sure that Randy would take pictures to send to Acadia. Acadia would in turn forward the pictures to others in David's sphere, such as the head of his company's HR function.

He sat in the straight back chair that Acadia substituted for his comfortable lounger and turned on his sixteen inch television, the one Acadia left when she removed his 65 inch screen. He started watching a PBS Masterpiece Theatre series that he had heard a lot about and was halfway through the second episode when the timer on his phone went off, telling him it was 8:55.

He scrambled to his feet and went into the bathroom to relieve his nervous bladder one more time, then a thorough hand washing, final inspection of his nails, and check of his shirt buttons and zipper. He had been punished once for missing a button on his shirt and another time for having dirt under one of his fingernails. It was now 8:59 so he rushed out of his apartment, locking the door, and then going to the apartment next to his to knock on her door at precisely 9:00. A light was now glowing in the crack under her door.

A minute later the door opened. It was Randy. She was wearing an elegant designer dress that made her look like she was going out on a first date. She oozed sex. David's knees became weak and his resolve to expose Acadia evaporated..

"Right on time," she said, swinging the door wide open. David knew he would be punished if he was one minute late. He was already willing to do whatever Randy asked of him. She knew it as well.

Before David could speak she said, "Come on in ... there's a couple of my friends I'd like you to meet."

David followed her into a much more spacious apartment with a view of the wooded common area between the buildings. Her bedroom door was open. The bed was unmade. There were two women sitting next to each other on the living room sofa. They were both holding some sort of mixed drink. There was Caribbean music playing and platters of sushi covered the coffee table. The women were as attractive as Randy. His guess of a modelling agency didn't seem to be that far off the mark. This was clearly a trap constructed by Acadia.

"Darla, Kimmie, meet David Elliott. He's in the apartment next to mine."

They didn't get up, but instead waved hello, giving him a forced smile. They went back to their conversation, ignoring him.

"Cold beer?" Randy asked, reading his mind.

"Sure, that would be great," he croaked. Acadia had outdone herself.

She brought back a can of beer, one of his favorites, and sat down across from him. She crossed her legs. He watched her skirt ride up her leg. He folded his arms in his lap to hide his raging hard on. Randy was kind and engaging, drawing David into a conversation with her and her friends that lasted until he had finished his third beer and ate his fifth piece of sushi. The conversation hadn't veered to sex and he was wondering what was going on. Acadia had clearly set this up, yet the women were acting as if they really wanted to get to know him. After an hour of talk, he finally got up the nerve to ask Randy the question that was on his mind.

"Randy, I was wondering. Have you spoken to my friend Acadia?"

The other two women stopped their conversation. Randy looked puzzled.

"You have a girlfriend?"

David became flustered. It was not at all the answer he was expecting. He didn't know how to answer hers.

"No .. no ... not really," he answered truthfully. Acadia wasn't a girlfriend. She made that clear to him.

The tone of Randy's voice became a bit more indignant. "What do you mean, not really? Do you know a woman named Acadia?"

David felt like a deer in the headlights. "Uhh ... yes, I do."

"Do you spend a lot of time with her?"

"Well ... yes."

"Have you had sex with her?"

He paused, which said volumes. He never had intercourse with her. He wondered if eating her pussy counted. Meanwhile, the women were watching him go through his mental gymnastics.

"Well ... not in the Bill Clinton sense," he answered, thinking he somehow finessed her question.

Randy scrunched her face. "Sounds like a girlfriend to me. I don't know any Acadia." She then turned to her two friends, who were watching the interchange with a look of horror. "Do you?"

They both shook their heads.

Randy got up out of her chair and pulled David out of his. "I think it's time that you go."