Polecat
08-03-2006, 09:18 PM
Substitute Sub
I sometimes have to wonder how I get into these pickles. Here I am, about to be spanked, whipped and tortured, and probably even have my pussy and ass fucked. Me, a perfectly normal, young successful lesbian. OK, mostly lesbian, legal intern. And no, for the record, I am not into S&M, BDSM or whatever the alphabet soup for alternate kinky sex is.
It all started 5 days ago, when Marcella, my roommate had to leave on a family emergency. Her mother was really sick, might not survive, yada yada yada. I offer to help her out; meaning, drive her to the airport, water her plants, feed her cat; that sort of thing.
Marcella is very cute, and I’ve had a “relationship” with her for years. We’ve been through college together, and now through law school. We were planning to intern together at this legal firm this summer. Then this happens, and she then confesses to me that she is also involved in an SM relationship with this guy. Well, OK I’m pretty liberal. It does upset me that she was seeing this guy on the side, while fucking me, but then again, I understand that she might not want me to know about her kinky side. Submitting to a guy is most un-PC anyway. And oh, “That’s why I often kept the lights off when we were having sex” Well that explains that. So OK. Forgiven.
Then she tells me that she has an appointment with him this Saturday, and how cruel he is, and how upset he is going to be if she doesn’t show up, and she asks me to take her place! I was still in shock from the revelation and misunderstood her, and said yes. She is all over me thanking me for this favor, how she will make it up to me, how I will enjoy meeting Joseph and how he will be especially cruel to me. And then she dashes off to catch her plane.
I stand on the terminal like an idiot. Pick up the cell phone and dial her number to tell her that no way, no how, no where and hear her phone ringing in my purse! I had borrowed it last night, and forgot to give it back to her. OK there is still hope, she will call me tonight to tell me that she forgot the phone, and then I’ll tell her, no dice.
I spent the whole evening sitting by my cell phone, her cell phone, and the land line just to make sure I didn’t miss the call. No call.
Next day, no call. I try calling her, but there is no listing for her in Bumfuck Kentucky, and in any case the phone would probably be in her step-father’s name, and of course, I have no idea what it is.
By Friday, I am desperate. I have checked out some BDSM websites, just to get an idea of what the deal is. It doesn’t look good.
I receive a Fedex letter on Friday.
Dear Lisa:
As you noticed I forgot my phone. I would have asked you to FEDEX it to me, but there is no FEDEX service here. In any case it wouldn’t help because there is no cell phone coverage anyway.
Thank you very much for taking my place with Joseph tomorrow. I really appreciate it. I’m sure he will be a little upset that it is not me, and he will surely take it out on you. I don’t think he will use the cane though. He only uses it when he is really pissed. I never asked you: Have you had anal sex? I hope you have because he likes to go that way. He is hung like a stallion; I’ve never seen any man that can keep it up as long as he. You will see. Or feel.
There is a lot of cold cream in my dresser. It relieves the pain and cuts down on the bruising. You should use it as soon as you get home from your session.
Enclosed is his address. Be there at noon.
I’ll talk to you when I get back
Love
Marcella
Well. I might not be a submissive, but I have never backed down from a challenge. I decide that anything Marcella can handle, I can too.
After finally making a decision, I am able to sleep fitfully.
On Saturday I had a good breakfast. I feel that I will need it. I shower, put on makeup and dress. I decide on a slinky black number, reaching down to mid thigh, it shows off my legs nicely, I complement it with black hose, with a garter belt to hold the stockings up. A black pair of fuck me pumps complement the ensemble. I pick up a tiny black purse with lipstick, mascara, ID, a $20 and a credit card. Finally ready, I head out. I can actually walk to this guy’s house, so I do so.
The house was a large mansion really, on a cul de sac. It stood back from the street, behind a wall and a fence. There were stately trees lining the walkway. Two words: Old money; very old money.
I walk up to the huge double doors and knock. After a short time, a tall thin man dressed in black pants, black vest, white shirt and a black bow tie opens the door.
“Mr. Joseph?”
“No” He has a deep booming voice. “I am Rawls, his majordomo. Who are you?”
“I am Lisa H. I am a friend of Marcella’s. She had an appointment today”
“Hmm; come in then. I’ll let Sir Joseph know you are here. He’ll decide what to do with you.”
He shows me in to a large room decorated austerely. I am left alone; I wait. Anxiety mounting. There is a fireplace, white marble, cold. Old logs sitting on last year’s ashes.
The room is cold. The drapes are drawn over the windows. Faint light comes in through their borders. I feel the cold seeping through my thin clothes. I shiver, but not just from the cold.
The door opens. A man enters. He is wearing black pants, a white shirt and an indigo smoking jacket. A crimson Ascot tie complements his outfit. He is about fifty. 6 foot high, maybe a little more. About 185 or 190 pounds. He stands at the door and looks at me. He says nothing. The silence weighs upon me. It surrounds me and wraps itself around my body. Finally, I can stand it any longer.
“Sir Joseph, I am Lisa. I am a friend of Marcella. I came in her place”
His voice is deep, a deep, low bass. “Why is she not here?”
“Her mother. She is very sick; she had to go to her. I came in her place”
He regards me again. I am 5 feet tall, 120 pounds, with neck length black hair, tied up in a short ponytail and bangs in the front. I may not be a smashing beauty, I personally wish my boobs were larger, but still, I am ‘Easy on the eyes’ He appraises me. Eventually he makes a decision.
“All right, follow me”
He turns around, I follow him. He goes down a stone spiral staircase, and I follow him. My footsteps echo in the silence. We go down, one, two floors. I don’t know. He opens a door, heavy, oaken planks. We enter a dungeon. Typical.
The dungeon is underground, thus, no windows. The walls are stone. There are rings embedded in them throughout. At several places, there are wooden plaques; whips, crops, straps and canes hang from one; chains, handcuffs, and leather ties, from a second one. Shelves on a third hold several sizes of horrible appearing dildos, gags. A credenza on the wall holds, in its closed drawers, other things I can only imagine. The floor is hardwood. Rings are embedded in it too. Rings on the ceiling hold pulleys. On the center of the room stands a cage. A cage of flat iron bars. Large enough to hold a girl, not comfortably.
He has me undress. He watches me while I do it. He has me pivot. He observes me. My front, my back. While the rest of the house was cold, the dungeon is quite warm. Though naked I am quite warm. He looks me over; silent. He’s said only nine words since we’ve met. Yet here I am, obeying him, like the most submissive slut. I want to object, to make him understand who I am, but somehow I can’t give voice to my objections.
He touches my face with his finger, my chin, my neck. His hand moves behind my neck, supportive, tender. He steps back. I stand proudly. I am ready.
He has me bend over the cage. He picks up a whip. He moves behind me. I hear the crack of the whip before I feel it, striking my buttocks. I scream. He strikes again. I jump. Again, I jump again; I cannot stay quiet for this. I try to grasp the bars of the cage, I scream again but, despite all my efforts, I cannot stay still.
He says nothing, but I sense, I sense his disappointment. I feel it. He is disappointed in me, that I cannot take it. He is silent. I turn around. I look at him. I beg him.
“Please tie me. Tie me up”
He smiles, goes to the credenza and picks up a length of rope. He ties my ankles to my thighs. He ties my left leg to the corner of the cage. My right to the top of it. My arms are tied at the elbows to the top of the cage. He undresses, picks up a cane and moves again behind me. I cannot see him. He still does not speak. I close my eyes. Tears fall freely from them. I brace myself. The cane will be worse than the whip. It strikes. I scream. It strikes again. I scream, again. I cannot take it. My screams are constant now, unconnected with the cuts of the crop. My skin shines with a sheen of sweat. He is not satisfied yet. He moves in front of me. His face is sad. I sense his disappointment again. Why is it so important to me to please this man?
I ask him: “Please gag me. Do whatever you want to with me, but please gag me” He smiles. He brings out a ball gag. The gag goes in my mouth. A large black ball gag. I see him now, in front of me; he undresses. He shows me a strap. It is made of leather. He finally speaks.
“I shall now beat you with this strap. I shall whip you again. I shall torture you as long as it pleases me. When I am done I will fuck you, may be in your pussy, maybe in your ass. Wherever the whim strikes me. Get ready now”
He moves behind me. I can’t see him anymore. I hear him pick up the strap.
I sometimes have to wonder how I get into these pickles. Here I am, about to be spanked, whipped and tortured, and probably even have my pussy and ass fucked...
I sometimes have to wonder how I get into these pickles. Here I am, about to be spanked, whipped and tortured, and probably even have my pussy and ass fucked. Me, a perfectly normal, young successful lesbian. OK, mostly lesbian, legal intern. And no, for the record, I am not into S&M, BDSM or whatever the alphabet soup for alternate kinky sex is.
It all started 5 days ago, when Marcella, my roommate had to leave on a family emergency. Her mother was really sick, might not survive, yada yada yada. I offer to help her out; meaning, drive her to the airport, water her plants, feed her cat; that sort of thing.
Marcella is very cute, and I’ve had a “relationship” with her for years. We’ve been through college together, and now through law school. We were planning to intern together at this legal firm this summer. Then this happens, and she then confesses to me that she is also involved in an SM relationship with this guy. Well, OK I’m pretty liberal. It does upset me that she was seeing this guy on the side, while fucking me, but then again, I understand that she might not want me to know about her kinky side. Submitting to a guy is most un-PC anyway. And oh, “That’s why I often kept the lights off when we were having sex” Well that explains that. So OK. Forgiven.
Then she tells me that she has an appointment with him this Saturday, and how cruel he is, and how upset he is going to be if she doesn’t show up, and she asks me to take her place! I was still in shock from the revelation and misunderstood her, and said yes. She is all over me thanking me for this favor, how she will make it up to me, how I will enjoy meeting Joseph and how he will be especially cruel to me. And then she dashes off to catch her plane.
I stand on the terminal like an idiot. Pick up the cell phone and dial her number to tell her that no way, no how, no where and hear her phone ringing in my purse! I had borrowed it last night, and forgot to give it back to her. OK there is still hope, she will call me tonight to tell me that she forgot the phone, and then I’ll tell her, no dice.
I spent the whole evening sitting by my cell phone, her cell phone, and the land line just to make sure I didn’t miss the call. No call.
Next day, no call. I try calling her, but there is no listing for her in Bumfuck Kentucky, and in any case the phone would probably be in her step-father’s name, and of course, I have no idea what it is.
By Friday, I am desperate. I have checked out some BDSM websites, just to get an idea of what the deal is. It doesn’t look good.
I receive a Fedex letter on Friday.
Dear Lisa:
As you noticed I forgot my phone. I would have asked you to FEDEX it to me, but there is no FEDEX service here. In any case it wouldn’t help because there is no cell phone coverage anyway.
Thank you very much for taking my place with Joseph tomorrow. I really appreciate it. I’m sure he will be a little upset that it is not me, and he will surely take it out on you. I don’t think he will use the cane though. He only uses it when he is really pissed. I never asked you: Have you had anal sex? I hope you have because he likes to go that way. He is hung like a stallion; I’ve never seen any man that can keep it up as long as he. You will see. Or feel.
There is a lot of cold cream in my dresser. It relieves the pain and cuts down on the bruising. You should use it as soon as you get home from your session.
Enclosed is his address. Be there at noon.
I’ll talk to you when I get back
Love
Marcella
Well. I might not be a submissive, but I have never backed down from a challenge. I decide that anything Marcella can handle, I can too.
After finally making a decision, I am able to sleep fitfully.
On Saturday I had a good breakfast. I feel that I will need it. I shower, put on makeup and dress. I decide on a slinky black number, reaching down to mid thigh, it shows off my legs nicely, I complement it with black hose, with a garter belt to hold the stockings up. A black pair of fuck me pumps complement the ensemble. I pick up a tiny black purse with lipstick, mascara, ID, a $20 and a credit card. Finally ready, I head out. I can actually walk to this guy’s house, so I do so.
The house was a large mansion really, on a cul de sac. It stood back from the street, behind a wall and a fence. There were stately trees lining the walkway. Two words: Old money; very old money.
I walk up to the huge double doors and knock. After a short time, a tall thin man dressed in black pants, black vest, white shirt and a black bow tie opens the door.
“Mr. Joseph?”
“No” He has a deep booming voice. “I am Rawls, his majordomo. Who are you?”
“I am Lisa H. I am a friend of Marcella’s. She had an appointment today”
“Hmm; come in then. I’ll let Sir Joseph know you are here. He’ll decide what to do with you.”
He shows me in to a large room decorated austerely. I am left alone; I wait. Anxiety mounting. There is a fireplace, white marble, cold. Old logs sitting on last year’s ashes.
The room is cold. The drapes are drawn over the windows. Faint light comes in through their borders. I feel the cold seeping through my thin clothes. I shiver, but not just from the cold.
The door opens. A man enters. He is wearing black pants, a white shirt and an indigo smoking jacket. A crimson Ascot tie complements his outfit. He is about fifty. 6 foot high, maybe a little more. About 185 or 190 pounds. He stands at the door and looks at me. He says nothing. The silence weighs upon me. It surrounds me and wraps itself around my body. Finally, I can stand it any longer.
“Sir Joseph, I am Lisa. I am a friend of Marcella. I came in her place”
His voice is deep, a deep, low bass. “Why is she not here?”
“Her mother. She is very sick; she had to go to her. I came in her place”
He regards me again. I am 5 feet tall, 120 pounds, with neck length black hair, tied up in a short ponytail and bangs in the front. I may not be a smashing beauty, I personally wish my boobs were larger, but still, I am ‘Easy on the eyes’ He appraises me. Eventually he makes a decision.
“All right, follow me”
He turns around, I follow him. He goes down a stone spiral staircase, and I follow him. My footsteps echo in the silence. We go down, one, two floors. I don’t know. He opens a door, heavy, oaken planks. We enter a dungeon. Typical.
The dungeon is underground, thus, no windows. The walls are stone. There are rings embedded in them throughout. At several places, there are wooden plaques; whips, crops, straps and canes hang from one; chains, handcuffs, and leather ties, from a second one. Shelves on a third hold several sizes of horrible appearing dildos, gags. A credenza on the wall holds, in its closed drawers, other things I can only imagine. The floor is hardwood. Rings are embedded in it too. Rings on the ceiling hold pulleys. On the center of the room stands a cage. A cage of flat iron bars. Large enough to hold a girl, not comfortably.
He has me undress. He watches me while I do it. He has me pivot. He observes me. My front, my back. While the rest of the house was cold, the dungeon is quite warm. Though naked I am quite warm. He looks me over; silent. He’s said only nine words since we’ve met. Yet here I am, obeying him, like the most submissive slut. I want to object, to make him understand who I am, but somehow I can’t give voice to my objections.
He touches my face with his finger, my chin, my neck. His hand moves behind my neck, supportive, tender. He steps back. I stand proudly. I am ready.
He has me bend over the cage. He picks up a whip. He moves behind me. I hear the crack of the whip before I feel it, striking my buttocks. I scream. He strikes again. I jump. Again, I jump again; I cannot stay quiet for this. I try to grasp the bars of the cage, I scream again but, despite all my efforts, I cannot stay still.
He says nothing, but I sense, I sense his disappointment. I feel it. He is disappointed in me, that I cannot take it. He is silent. I turn around. I look at him. I beg him.
“Please tie me. Tie me up”
He smiles, goes to the credenza and picks up a length of rope. He ties my ankles to my thighs. He ties my left leg to the corner of the cage. My right to the top of it. My arms are tied at the elbows to the top of the cage. He undresses, picks up a cane and moves again behind me. I cannot see him. He still does not speak. I close my eyes. Tears fall freely from them. I brace myself. The cane will be worse than the whip. It strikes. I scream. It strikes again. I scream, again. I cannot take it. My screams are constant now, unconnected with the cuts of the crop. My skin shines with a sheen of sweat. He is not satisfied yet. He moves in front of me. His face is sad. I sense his disappointment again. Why is it so important to me to please this man?
I ask him: “Please gag me. Do whatever you want to with me, but please gag me” He smiles. He brings out a ball gag. The gag goes in my mouth. A large black ball gag. I see him now, in front of me; he undresses. He shows me a strap. It is made of leather. He finally speaks.
“I shall now beat you with this strap. I shall whip you again. I shall torture you as long as it pleases me. When I am done I will fuck you, may be in your pussy, maybe in your ass. Wherever the whim strikes me. Get ready now”
He moves behind me. I can’t see him anymore. I hear him pick up the strap.
I sometimes have to wonder how I get into these pickles. Here I am, about to be spanked, whipped and tortured, and probably even have my pussy and ass fucked...