Traveling Submissive Pt. 01

Note: This story contains scenes of "consensual non-consent," and "threatened" impregnation between a Dom and sub who have worked these things out ahead of time.

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She sagged against her hotel room door, relieved to be "home". She always got a lot done on these work trips, but it still seemed to take twice as long to run the usability tests as it should—either the test subjects were difficult, or the local staff ran things completely differently than she did. It was enough to make her yearn for home—until her eyes fell on the package that had been delivered to her room.

Years ago, she had realized she was a natural submissive and, being a submissive woman in the age of the internet, had made...friends with several dominant men online, exploring her kinks and learning more about "the scene." Some of the men had been more serious than others, and she'd even had real life encounters with a few of them in her younger days, submitting to tops of varying skill and learning more about what she liked. Eventually though, she fell in love with and married a nice, vanilla man, and tried to leave it all behind her. Only she found that her submissive desires were harder to get past than she'd expected, and while she didn't meet anyone anymore, she found herself keeping in touch with a couple of her old playmates for the occasional hot conversation, when her need became too great to ignore.

And then a year ago her job had started sending her around the country to run user tests. Sometimes her husband went with her, but most of the time she was left bored and lonely for a few days at a time in a strange city, with nothing but her submissive fantasies to keep her company—and a couple dominant men who were more than willing to fan those flames until she felt like she was going mad with need.

It started with texting—just exchanging intense fantasies. Then it was a phone call, where she found herself naked and urgently rubbing her clit while a top gave her orders, hearing him whisper into her ear about what he would do to her if he were there. And then next time he was, showing up and making her do all the things he'd described despite her weak protests, treating her like the plaything she still craved to be. The time after that, it was another dom she'd kept in touch with who appeared at her hotel room door—this one spending hours positioning her body and fucking all three of her holes again and again, while she begged for more like a needy, cock-hungry slut.

Now she didn't try to ignore her nature—whenever she traveled alone, she worked during the day and wore a collar at night. No matter what city she flew to, one top or another was able to make time to join and use her, acting as her Master for however long could be arranged, indulging her need to submit while she satisfied their desire to dominate, before everyone went back home to their regular lives. This trip it would be the top who had first come to her—someone she had known off and on since college, who seemed to have an endless appetite for her submission and suffering, and went from tender to cruel at a whim.

It was his delivery that was waiting in her room.

He'd started sending items ahead a few months ago—as he put it, "I don't want to tell TSA why I have a suitcase full of sex toys and torture devices." Plus, on visits where he couldn't show up right away, he would make sure she had something to play with, usually while he directed—and listened to her moan—on the phone.

This time there would be no virtual domination however—his flight was due to land in a couple hours. But written on the outside of the box was a very clear message: OPEN ME.

Shivering slightly in anticipation, she took some time dropping her bag and changing into a t-shirt and sweats before settling on the bed and opening the box—a big one this time. Right on top was a mass of leather straps. A flogger, she wondered? Reaching in she heard the clink of metal rings, and her eyes widened as she pulled it out, blurting, "You've got to be kidding me." It was a bodysuit made up entirely of thin strips, held together only by some small rings. Taped to it was a note: "Put this on when I text you from the airport."

"It's going to take me that long just to untangle the thing," she grumbled, but carefully laid it aside, feeling herself growing wet at the idea of wearing something so blatantly sexual for her Master. Beneath it were a pair of leather shackles she knew very well, and a realistic dildo that had been inside her more times than she could count. Finally, lying loose at the bottom, was a pair of nipple clamps. There was also another box, only slightly smaller than the one it had come in, with the words, "NOT FOR TOYS" written in black marker. Clearly, she mused as she set it aside, he planned to save some surprises for later in the visit—two whole nights, this time.

She looked at her phone—an hour before he was due to land. Plenty of time for a quick shower, and to try figure out how that "outfit" was supposed to go on. She stripped and headed to the bathroom, pausing at the mirror to consider her small, slender body, running her hands lightly over her breasts, noticing her nipples were already hard as she pictured his hands in place of hers. She reached up and wrapped her fingers in her short, thick, straight black hair, tugging the way he liked, watching herself and feeling her arousal build with the anticipation, before smiling self-consciously and starting the shower.

Afterwards she sat on the bed wrapped in a towel and held the untangled suit up. She'd looked up a YouTube video to make sure she didn't put it on backwards—she had never been one for really elaborate lingerie. She looked dubiously at the ensemble—she could already tell it was going to show way more than it concealed. In fact, she was beginning to suspect it wouldn't cover anything important at all. Suddenly her phone buzzed, and she looked down at the incoming text.

"Landed, toy. Put it on, and place everything else on the dresser. Prepare a kneeling station by the door. Further instructions when I'm downstairs."

Biting her lip, she typed back, "Yes sir," and dropped her towel.

It took her a few minutes, and she was thankful he'd gotten the size right. When the final snap was fastened she looked at herself in the bathroom mirror and reddened with humiliation. It covered nothing—it was just a series of straps wrapped around her torso that left her breasts and pussy bare, held up by shoulder straps and a few strategic buttons. It was ridiculous—she'd rather be nude than wear something so...blatant. For one rebellious moment she thought of ripping the whole thing off and making up a story about how it hadn't fit, and suffering the inevitable consequences. Yet even as she thought that she found herself picking up a towel and placing it on the floor, at the same time checking that the other items were on the dresser as instructed. Arousal was paired with humiliation from the outfit, already putting her in a submissive space before he'd even arrived—probably exactly as he'd intended, she reflected.

She sat on the bed, getting used to how the straps slid across her body, and was testing her ability to move when her phone buzzed on the nightstand beside her, saying, "I'm here. Kneel, with your hands secured behind your back."

She took a deep breath and put her phone down, next to the keys she'd found, making sure both were close to the edge in case she had to free herself for some reason Then she walked to the dresser and picked up the shackles, her fingers sliding over the tough leather, closing her eyes for a moment in blissful memory, before wrapping one around a wrist, and securing it with its tiny padlock. She then knelt on the towel, legs slightly spread as she'd been trained, and placed her hands behind her back, slipping her free wrist into the restraint, her fingers finding the second lock. With a slightly nervous look at the door, hoping nothing kept him long, she pushed the lock closed, leaving her bound and helpless and waiting to be found.

She tugged slightly on the bonds and felt a little thrill as they held firm. She straightened her back, knowing the way her arms were pinned was thrusting her breasts out and up the way he liked. The straps around her chest were a new sensation, and she caught herself squirming, experimenting with them, her nipples rock hard and her pussy wet as she imagined the picture she made, kneeling and helpless, wrapped up like a present. She felt vulnerable as she pulled again on her wrists, and found herself spreading her legs a little wider as she began to anticipate what was to come—what he would do to her when he found her like this.

She stilled as she heard footsteps pause outside her door, and arched slightly, striving to hold the best pose possible. There was a beep, and she saw the handle turn. For one terrified moment she suddenly wondered what she would do if it wasn't him—if, somehow, it was someone else who was coming into her room right now. Her breath caught as she remembered some of the wilder fantasies they'd shared, of him giving her to someone else to use, while he watched her fuck a stranger. Apprehension flooded through her, yet at the same time her pussy was soaked as she accepted that she had no control anymore.

It was only her training that kept her from sagging in relief when she saw only her Master step in, a bag slung over his shoulder. He was as she remembered him—tall and broad shouldered, with short brown hair and lips that always seemed quirked in a slight smile. He paused for a moment, holding the door open as his eyes raked over her displayed body, before he murmured, "Good girl," and closed it behind him. He walked past her, making her wait as she heard him drop his bag and coat somewhere out of sight. She braced herself as she heard him pause by the dresser where she'd set out his gifts, and then flinched slightly when he tossed a pillow onto the floor in front of her.

Suddenly she felt a hand in her hair, pulling her head back, forcing her to look up at him, aware of how her breasts were being thrust even further out. He smiled, his eyes slowly moving from her chest to her face as he said, "Hello toy."

"Hello sir," she replied, swallowing.

His other hand rose up to stroke the side of her face, brushing her jaw as he continued speaking. "It's good to see you. You look amazing—like a good fucktoy. You've truly earned everything that's coming to you."

She barely had time to say, "Thank you, sir," before he pushed her head upright, his grip shifting as he knelt behind her. She whimpered as she felt his hands slide down her body, running along her shoulders and arms—checking the restraints—before sliding back up, taking his time, clearly savoring the feel of her skin beneath his fingertips. Once he'd completed the circuit his hands moved down her chest, palming her breasts, squeezing them, her nipples caught between his fingers, making her breathe in sharply at the sudden near pain. He tugged on them, twisting lightly, seeming to change his actions based on the sounds she made, and she had a bizarre image of him using her nipples to find his favorite station.

His hands became more demanding, kneading her flesh, filling his palms with her curves, his chest rubbing against her back as he pulled her against him, her arms pinned between their bodies. He went back to her nipples, pulling and giving them a hard twist before slapping her breasts and starting again. She closed her eyes and focused on the torture, reveling in the attention, and wondering if he was pleased. When his touch vanished, her eyes flew open as she moaned in disappointment—and then cried out when she felt the nipple clamps being attached to her flesh.

He chuckled behind her, his arms back around her, one hand resting on the chain connecting the clamps, the other splayed across her middle. He gave the chain a tug, making her cry out again as she felt her nipples pulled downwards, her breathing becoming ragged. His other hand began stroking her belly in a circular motion, his fingers gradually pressing lower and lower, playing with the straps as he went. It was almost ticklish, causing her to squirm slightly, her legs pressing together, unconsciously trying to delay him discovering how aroused she already was, embarrassed and nervous about what he'd do with that information.

She heard him tsk as he noticed her resistance and tugged on the chain, his other hand leaving her body to wrap in her thick hair. He yanked her head back, murmuring in her ear as she writhed from the pressure on her nipples, "Sluts spread their legs—they don't close them. Open, slut."

Trembling she obeyed, parting her legs slowly, and then cried out as his tongue slid across her ear, followed by a nip of his teeth. He let go of the chain connecting her breasts with a final tug, wrapping his left hand in her hair, keeping her arched back, while his other hand splayed across her stomach, so tantalizingly close to her exposed sex. She wondered if he knew how badly she wanted to feel his fingers inside her and shuddered as he held her still while his mouth and tongue continued to taste the side of her face and throat—something he knew drove her crazy.

"Please..." she whispered, even as she bucked and writhed, her legs spread wide now, desperate where before she was reluctant. "Please!"

"Shhh..." he murmured in her ear, his hand leaving her hair and covered her mouth at the same time his other hand moved down her body and found her wetness. She knew she was shockingly wet and moaned against his hand as a finger slid easily inside, her body shuddering as her craving to be filled was finally met. Soon he had two fingers in her sopping pussy, while he whispered about what a wet whore she was after he'd only been there five minutes, thrusting inside her again and again while she bucked and panted frantically. A minute later his hand left her mouth to return to her breasts, slapping them and pulling on the chain, making her to jerk and whimper. His hand between her legs alternated between filling and grinding against her sex, teasing her clit before returning to finger fucking her, pumping her as she groaned, her arms straining against the cuffs, forced to submit to being his helpless plaything.

Suddenly he pulled his fingers from her pussy, wiping them on her thigh before using both hands to push her forward, controlling her descent until her face was pressed into the pillow. She moaned "Oh god" as she felt him move behind her, her ass high in the air, spread wide open. She yelped as he started to spank her, alternating cheeks until she felt her ass grow warm, before stopping and plunging his fingers back into her pussy. She sobbed into the pillow as his hand alternated between spanking and pumping her, doing her best to thrust back when she was being fucked, and to hold still when she was being spanked. Her face reddened as he commented on how much wetter she got while being beaten.

Then there was a pause, and she tried to gather herself, aware of the clamps still on her nipples, her hands grasping uselessly at empty air behind her back, wondering if she dared try to sit back up. But before she could decide there was a sudden "crack!" and she flinched, at the same time she feeling a harsh sting across her ass. Her flesh grew even warmer as she felt him bring his belt down, his other hand on the back of her head, forcing her face into the pillow, muffling her cries as he began whipping her.

The punishment went on for a small eternity, and just when she thought she couldn't take anymore, it stopped. She heard him toss the belt aside and reflexively tried to rise, only to feel his hand tighten on the back of her head, keeping her in place—head down, ass up. And then she felt a dildo press against her wet pussy, the head held at her entrance for a long moment, teasing her until she found herself squirming, trying to push it inside. He chuckled and called her a "needy cock slut," and filled her in one smooth motion. Dimly she heard him mock her for how easily her pussy took the cock, but most of her focus was on feeling deliciously full at last. He pushed the toy all the way inside and held it there, slowly twisting it, letting her savor the moment, before slowly pulling it back until just the head was inside her again. He repeated this slow cycle as she groaned, his hand leaving her head as he shifted position. She buried her face in the pillow as he grasped her hip and began to pick up the pace with the toy, filling her faster and harder until his arm was pounding, violating her eager body. She became aware of fucking back, trying to stuff herself while making incoherent noises, losing track of everything but being used.

After minutes of this she felt a hand in her hair, cruelly pulling her upright, the dildo pressed deep and held in her pussy as she struggled to sit up, until she felt the toy's base press against the ground, forcing her to impale herself as she knelt upon it. She whimpered as he released his grip and gasped in relief as he removed the nipple clamps. Before she could gather her wits, however, she felt her throat enclosed in leather—a wonderfully familiar sensation that she often found herself yearning for outside of these scenes. As the collar was fastened, she uttered the phrase he'd trained her to say every time it went on: "I'm a slut—please use me."

His hand returned to her hair as he stood up and moved in front of her, his other hand opening his jeans. "Open your mouth, slut—ride the toy as you suck me. Show me how much you want to be shared, to be a whore for both your masters." As he finished speaking, he freed his cock, and she opened her mouth obediently to take him inside.

She closed her eyes as her lips sealed around his shaft, his words washing over her—she had shared with him her fantasy of being dominated by two tops, and ever since he made sure to bring it up during their sessions to drive her to distraction. Now, as she ground down on one cock while sucking another, the fantasy came to vivid life and she could almost feel a second pair of hands caressing her body as the man attached to them moved underneath her, while the one in front of her kept a tight grip on her hair and fucked her mouth. She wished for a moment that her hands were free so she could caress her breasts to enhance the illusion, but then he thrust deeper, which pushed her down on the dildo, and rationale thought fled.

She tried to concentrate on the cock in her mouth, but he kept controlling her movements with his hand in her hair, sometimes keeping just the tip between her lips, other times pushing in deeper until she felt the first hint of panic—and still other times just fucking her face while she looked up at him, feeling owned and dirty, unable to do anything but let him use her however he wished.

Finally he pulled free and moved out of sight. She gasped for breath, before giving a yelp of surprise as he shoved her forward onto the pillow again, a hand barely slowing her fall. He grasped her hips and she felt his cock rubbing against her pussy.

"What are you?" he demanded.

"I'm a slut," she whimpered, repeating the mantra he had distilled into her.

"And what do sluts get?" he continued.

"They get used," she half-sobbed. "Please..."

"Can you stop me, slut?" he asked, teasing her with the length of his shaft sliding against her pussy.

"No..." she whispered.

"I could do anything I want to you, couldn't I, whore," he growled, slapping her ass.

"Yes," she yelped, "Anything!"

"I could bring a friend in and you'd have to suck and fuck him. I could beat you senseless while making you beg for more. I could fuck your pussy like I fucked your mouth," he continued, lifting his hips so the head of his cock almost slipped into her sex before popping out. "Can you stop me from filling you with cum? From shoving myself deep inside and pumping you full of my seed, whore?"