Katie's Submission Ch. 01-04

She wet her finger by sticking it deep inside my pussy, twisting it inside me in the most delightful way, causing me to buck my hips upward and squeeze the walls of my pussy in an attempt to keep her inside me. She withdrew the finger, causing me to moan in disappointment, but then promptly pushed it against my anus, rocking the tip of her finger back and forth until the tight ring of muscle gave way slightly, allowing the tip of her finger to massage the inner wall of my ass.

"Oh my God Mistress," I cried. I feared there would be pain, but there was none. Her expert technique of lubricating her finger and massaging the muscle before entering made her passage into me an easy one.

Now I was truly in uncharted waters. No one had ever made me feel like this. I wanted more.

"You are truly a wanton slut who can be brought to submission by my finger." She held her finger under my nose so I could smell my earthy essence.

"Clean it."

Desire was coursing through my veins. I didn't think twice. I moved my mouth towards her finger, eagerly sucking on it and tasting my nether passage for the first time. I turned my head to look into her eyes. Her eyes signaled approval for my submissive act, and again her approval was what I craved above all else, even my release.

She held the ruler in front of me.

"Beg for it."

I did.

"Please Mistress, punish me for being a bad girl."

Without hesitation there was a hiss in the air followed by a sting that took my breath away.

She lightly traced her fingernails across my still stinging bottom, causing me to writhe in agony. But the pain was short lived. She then pushed her finger in my bottom, bringing back a welcome sensation and causing me to lewdly rotate my hips to maximize the friction of her finger against my anal ring.

"Again little slut?"

My silence was taken for assent. Another blow rained down on my defenseless ass cheeks. Again the fingernails followed by the sweet ecstasy of her finger.

Over and over, the sting, the begging, one finger, then two. I thought I would go mad with want.

Finally she relented.

"Does my little slut want to cum?" She knew I did. She wanted me to beg.

"Please Mistress ..."

"Please what?"

"Please fuck my ass with your fingers."

"Because you are ...?"

"Mistress's whore."

"That's a good girl."

She thrust two, then three fingers in my ass, fucking it, twisting them inside me, probing for the connection to the g-spot in my pussy through my anal wall. Finding it, she flicked her fingertips against it relentlessly until my body spasmed like a rag doll. Then she reached under me to find my sweet nub, pushing the button and igniting a seemingly endless orgasm that rippled over and over in my body until I lost any notion of time and space. I fell limp on Mistress's lap.

She rubbed my bottom lovingly until I regained my senses.

"Get on your knees in front of me little whore."

Still wobbly from what transpired, I fell on my knees in front of her, in awe of her power over me.

She spread her legs wide. There were no shadows now between her legs, only light, as I saw beads of her love dripping from her dark brown curly pubic patch and the olive complected skin of her thighs.

"Show me how much you love me."

My fantasy was about to come true. I crawled towards her, heeding her siren's call. I first closed my eyes and inhaled, wanting to capture the smell of her sexual pheromones in my mind. Then I opened my eyes and stroked her inner thighs, marveling at the creamy soft texture of her skin, and then traced to her vee, teasing her lips with light strokes. She sighed softly, opening her legs even more to me. I ran my tongue from her clit to her anus and then back again. She responded by stroking my hair and uttering my name under her breath. I took a page out of her book, massaging her anus while licking her clit, then pushing my finger inside her pucker. To show her my desire to submit completely to her I pulled my finger out and put it in my mouth, slowing drawing it out so I could taste her. The earthy taste made me want more, so I pulled her checks apart so I could push my tongue inside her back passage. She was now shaking, and her hand went down between her legs to massage her untended clit. I pushed her fingers aside and resumed sucking and licking her clit, then jammed two fingers inside her ass and used my other hand to slide it inside her bra and pinch her nipple.

"You fucking whore ... yes ... this is what I want ... oh ... oh God ..." Her voice faded as her eyes clamped shut as she came over and over until she pushed my head away, not able to take any more.

Kneeling in front of her, I awaited her next command.

"That's a good slut. Now go home and get some sleep."

Chapter Three

I submitted to my Goddess. What were the limits of my submission? I went home that evening with a very sore bottom and a splitting headache. What had I done? The cab ride home was a swirl of questions with no answers. There was no one I could call, no book I could read, that could tell me where this was leading. What I did know was that I had an unquenchable thirst for Mistress's approval and an untapped submissive streak. I went to bed that night hoping the clarity of the morning light would help me resolve these questions.

Instead of answers, I received a text from Mistress.

Demetria G: I'll pick you up at noon.

It was still around 9, so I had time to pick out my outfit and get something to eat. I decided to go casual, selecting a V-neck t-shirt, my favorite pair of skinny jeans, and tan suede half boots with three inch heels. The t-shirt was a bit tight on me, and that was the way I wanted it. The outline of my nipples was unmistakable. I went outside at five minutes to noon and promptly at noon a late model Jaguar pulled up. A fitting ride for a lioness. I heard the mechanical click of the passenger door unlocking. I let myself in and slid into the seat, a fine burnished leather surrounding me on the seat, the dash and the door panel.

We drove in virtual silence for a half hour, arriving in the next town over from mine and pulling up in front of a high end woman's clothing boutique. I waited in the car as Mistress exited and went inside the store. I could through the plate glass window that she was greeting someone in the store with a big hug, presumably the owner. She waved to me to enter the store. She introduced me to Brigitte, the owner of the store and a contemporary of Mistress, probably in her 40's, fit and trim, shorter in stature than Mistress but no less seductive with short stylish platinum blonde hair. Her assistant, Rosalind, was standing next to her. Rosalind had bleach blond hair tinted with blue highlights, a t-shirt with the arms and midriff cut off, a short denim skirt and laceless sneakers. She was probably my age, with smaller perky breasts and an otherwise waifish figure.

Mistress told Brigitte and Rosalind that I needed a new wardrobe and wanted a "private" fitting. Brigitte signaled to her assistant to lock the door and put the "Closed" sign in the window. The owner then led Mistress and me into an oversized dressing room that had two chairs in it. Rosalind started with the foundation garments, bringing into the large dressing room a handful of bras for me to try. I'd been wearing a 36C, but she shook her head with disapproval and made me try a 34D. She stood behind me and cupped my breasts, there being no mistake about her intentions. I pulled away, giving her an angry look. I then looked at Mistress and her scowl cut me to the quick. I'd displeased her, and her anger burned my soul. I fell on my knees seeking absolution.

Mistress issued her rebuke. "Rosalind likes you. You're being impolite."

"I'm so sorry Mistress."

"Come here my little lamb." She reached into her purse and pulled out two clamp-like devices.

"Offer your tits to me."

I stuck out my chest and for some reason expected a reward. Instead Mistress pulled my nipple taut and then screwed the clamp on my nipple. With each turn the pain became more intense. I started to pull back, but she didn't let go of the nipple, so my motion backward just intensified the pain. I leaned forward again, rewarded with a clamp on the other nipple.

"Do you want to disobey me little whore?"

"No Mistress."

"Then show Rosalind that you're sorry."

I approached Rosalind, burning with embarrassment with my clamped nipples protruding lewdly in front of me, but not wanting to disappoint my Mistress. I put my hand on the back of the young bleach blonde's head and drew her to me, engaging in a passionate kiss and guiding her hand to my clamped nipples. She lightly twisted the clamp, causing me to moan into her mouth. I dropped to my knees and unzipped Rosalind's skirt, allowing it to puddle around her ankles. Her panties, already saturated with arousal, were drawn by me down to her ankles. She lifted one foot up, and then the other, allowing me to remove both the skirt and her panties. I didn't need to be asked. I stuffed the panties in my mouth and looked to Mistress for approval. I savored Rosalind's taste and the smell while I awaited Mistress's verdict. She gave almost an imperceptible nod of her head and I knew I'd done well. Her approval emboldened me. Still on my knees, I spit out the panties and put my hands on Rosalind's ass and drew her sex to me. I tilted my head back and assumed a submissive posture allowing her to ride my face, sliding her pussy and ass across my lips. In my peripheral vision I saw both Mistress and Brigitte slightly reclined in their chairs, with each fingering the other as they watch their charges make love.

Rosalind was rough with me, grabbing my hair so she could ride my face as if she was the rider and I was the saddle. She shouted and screamed, spewing a stream of expletives, much to the delight of our Mistresses, as she rewarded me with a copious discharge of her sweet sticky juices. I looked over at my Mistress with my face smeared with Rosalind's love. She gave me a sweet smile of approval that made me glow. I started masturbating with my eyes locked on Mistress. My hand was a blur. My body vibrated like a tuning fork. Her eyes blinked. Permission was given. I came, uncaring that I was spewing liquid on the carpeted floor. My eyes never left hers. I was cumming for her. I was cumming with the hope that my wanton lust would please her. It did. She put her hands together in a light applause appropriate for the opera, not a sex show. Her recognition and approval of my taking pleasure from my body was gratitude enough to sustain me for a week.

Mistress kissed her friend chastely on the cheek, took a handkerchief out of her designer purse to daintily dab the pussy juice off her hands and then threw the handkerchief to me. I pounced on it with the same alacrity as a spinster diving for a bridal bouquet. I pulled the hanky to my nose, first smelling the sweet essence of my Mistress, and then a separate distinct odor of Brigitte.

Rosalind crawled to Brigitte, her Domme. Brigitte gave Rosalind strokes on her back in recognition of her over the top of my face performance. Rosalind's eyes were sparkling as she soaked in the gratitude of her Domme. I was jealous. I mashed the hanky to my nose again to smell Mistress.

We ultimately finished what we had gone there for and picked out several new outfits for me, including a number of bra and panty sets. I gathered up the purchases Mistress made for me and tucked the hanky inside my purse. Rosalind was straightening the store under the watchful eye of Brigitte.

How lucky Rosalind and I were to have such munificent Mistresses.

Chapter Four

A significant barrier had been broken. I had pledged to please Mistress, and in doing so I thought that meant for me to provide sexual pleasure for Mistress. My desire was to crawl between her legs and spend endless hours there with my tongue. But in short order, Mistress had manipulated my desire to please her into a willingness to have sex with a stranger in order to give Mistress sexual pleasure. On the one hand I felt soiled and degraded by the experience at the clothing boutique, having a young woman lustily ride my face strictly to please Mistress. But on the other hand my sexual gratification had gone into the stratosphere. I was intensely aroused by the shame of being used, and Mistress had shown me that the shame could fuel erotic feelings and memorable orgasms that I had no idea I could harbor or experience.

The next morning I viewed myself in an entirely different light. I was a career woman, focused on my position within the company and eager to move up. My ambitions were pedestrian - higher pay, a more exalted position, and perhaps a larger apartment and finer clothes. But those ambitions now seemed trivial to me. Mistress was my world now. My job would simply be a means to earn sustenance so I could spend every other waking hour amusing and pleasing her. I was surprised at how quickly my fortunes had changed - that Mistress had unlocked a deep seated desire for submission and reordered my world in a few short days. In retrospect my past few years of corporate drudgery was simply marking time until I met someone who could control and dominate me. I had found that person.

But that day was a work day, and none of it involved Mistress. My phone was silent - I received nothing by way of text during that entire day and I dared not text or call her. I knew that an unauthorized communication would bring about a swift reprimand. So I languished at the office, moving piles of papers off my desk and onto the desk of someone else. There was little joy in what I was doing as long as my text screen from Mistress was blank. I wondered where she was and what she was wearing. I imagined her making me spend my day under her desk, licking her pussy while she attended mundane conference calls and endless meetings. I imagined her using me as a sex toy with her friends and business acquaintances for her amusement. But those musings did little to relieve the ache of silence.

The silence continued for the remainder of the work week. By the end of the week I was entertaining thoughts that Mistress had abandoned me, perhaps for another even more willing submissive. I tried to keep those thoughts out of my head but the silence by Friday was deafening. Why hadn't she reached out to me? Finally, late that afternoon the following message appeared on my screen:

Demetria G: Be outside your apartment at 7 p.m.

My heart leapt out of my chest. Mistress had not forgotten me. I dropped whatever I was doing and rushed home to dress. But what would I wear? Mistress had not told me where we were going. Would we have an intimate evening together or would we be entertaining guests?

I flicked through all of my potential outfits in my closet. My closet was badly in need of organization and my clothes were scattered throughout the closet. I silently cursed as I could not see anything that would be appropriate to wear. Almost all of my dressier clothes were for work. I was rummaging through my shoes when my phone went off indicating I had just received a text. I gratefully went to my phone just to take a break from the depressing contents of my closet. To my surprise, the text was from Mistress.

Demetria G: Dress sexy.

Could Mistress read my mind? How did she know I was right then debating what to wear? I pushed those questions to the side and focused on dressing on the sluttier side. Maybe we were going to a party?

I knew what I was going to wear. I had just purchased an outfit for a bachelorette party for a good friend. It was an insanely tight dress that was cut about ten inches above the knee. The front had a plunging neckline to highlight my breasts and the back had crisscrossing straps. I topped off the outfit with grey platform heels.

Mistress arrived at 7 with her Jaguar. As I got into the car I noted that she opted for sexy as well, wearing a short red dress that looked fabulous against her dark-toned skin. She was wearing her usual black stiletto pumps.

We drove to a downtown hotel where the more fashionable people in town congregated for drinks and more. I knew I was going to be the "more" but I had no idea how Mistress would bring that about. We walked into a lobby bar that had a long curving bar of cracked glass that shimmered with an electric blue light. The bar was already packed and the noise of the banter reached a dull roar.

We stood in the back of the lobby and surveyed the crowd. There were three or four men working the attractive women at the bar. As we watched, two of the men found companionship for the night and left so two were left.

Mistress pointed. "See that guy over there?"

It was one of the two men I had identified as on the prowl.

"Tell him that you want to fuck him and you want your Mistress to watch."

It took me several moments to register this outlandish request. Could I do it? I'd picked up guys in bars and been picked up as well. Did I want to do it? Mistress asked me to do it so I nodded my head in acknowledgement.

Mistress gave me a playful push towards the bar, and I inelegantly stumbled the first few steps before regaining my composure. I approached the bar and found a gap not too far from my intended target. I competed with a few other people for the attention of the bartender when the man I was going to fuck came up from behind.

"Can I buy you a drink?"

"That's a clever line," I replied snarkily.

"I like to be direct. Milady, could I have the honor of buying you a drink?" He bowed as if he was wearing a hat with a feather and was sweeping it across his body as he bowed.

I was actually charmed by the move and by his looks. He was probably in his 30's, dark hair, as dark as Mistress's, with a slight wave and a hint of hair gel that made his hair slightly shiny, He was still wearing his business suit from the workday. It was smart - charcoal grey with a fine pinstripe and a delicately patterned cobalt blue tie. He stood about six inches above me. I'd fuck him.

"I'll take that drink. Gin and tonic - Hendrick's." I was rusty on my pick-up technique at the bar but I had no problem remembering what I liked to drink.

The man tracked down the bartender while I feigned a lack of interest. He procured our drinks and nodded his head in the direction of an empty table nearby. I picked up my purse and walked over to the table. He sat down and put my drink in front of me.

I lifted the drink to my lips and before I took the first draw I told him. "I like your style."

"You mean direct?"

I took a sip. Excellent drink. "Yes, that's what I mean. I'm Katie." Then I said in my sultriest voice, "Got a name big boy?

He laughed. "It's Miguel."

Ahh. I smiled. Was he Mexican?

He smiled back. "I know what you're thinking. My father is Mexican and my mother is Irish."

Does everyone know how to read my mind? "You did read my mind. I was wondering and now that I look at you I can see that it's a stunning combination."

His smile got even bigger. "You're a beautiful woman and I'm the envy of every man at the bar. I saw you over there with another woman so I dared not disturb you."

"What about the women at the bar?" I inquired casually.

He gave me a quizzical look. "Do women find you hot?"

I nodded.

The smile returned to his face. "Of course they do. Is the woman you're with your lover?"

I give him an insulted look. "My, now you are being the forward one. But since you ask, that woman isn't my lover."

He knitted his brow. "So just a friend?"

I sped the conversation along. "She not my lover. She's my Mistress."

He was cool. He should have registered shock but acted as if we were discussing the weather.