Testing the Submissive(2)

By: Al Daltrey



“Deep down you have no idea if you have what it takes to be a true whipping-bitch, isn’t that right cunt?”

Oh fuck. How would I answer that? He was right. Sure, an ex boyfriend gave my ass and thighs a taste of the cane once; and one of my girlfriends had taken a belt to my body – quite hard actually – but could I endure a real whipping? Who knew? All I knew was I wanted to try. I was ready to try.

“Sir, I can promise you I will do my best to endure anything done to me.”

Lewis slapped my face, surprisingly hard. I was shocked! A slap to my ass wouldn’t have surprised me, but my face? Yet, I had the presence of mind to regain my position. Ever so slightly, I tilted my face toward him offering my cheek for another slap should he decide to deliver it.

“I’m sorry Sir.”

I didn’t want to say anything in my defense. I felt very submissive in that moment. I wanted him to hit me again.

He did.

I think my ears were ringing from the slap. My eyes began to water, but they weren’t emotional tears, they were simply from the impact.

“Whore!”

He spat in my face. I didn’t recoil. He was testing me. I trusted him. If I couldn’t handle this, I could never handle a whipping at the hands of a sadistic client. One final slap almost knocked me over.

He asked more questions, finally saying, “I’ll send you to see a friend of mine for a test whipping, and we’ll go from there.”

I had successfully passed my first interview.





CHAPTER 2: PASSING THE TEST


Two weeks later, one week after the test whipping…

All had gone well. Lewis’s friend Gary had given me a good report. I endured my first real whipping like a champ. It hurt like hell. Even worse than I imagined it would be. At times, I was convinced I would yell my safeword at any second, but I didn’t cave in – willing myself to hold on for just one more strike. Then one more. And one more. I did not break.

In the end, I sucked his friend’s cock to thank the man for his efforts. I was a whipped whore, pleasuring the man who had just delivered a beating. The guy came in minutes, flooding my mouth, and I swallowed without hesitation.

Outside I was glad to see my car still intact. Gary’s neighborhood was pretty seedy. It made me feel even sleazier, and I wondered if that was intentional on Lewis’ part. I felt like a cheap call-girl.

Now a full week later, I stood before Lewis a second time, fully naked again, my hands in the same position. He examined the fading marks on my body. His friend had experimented with a variety of instruments, but most of the evidence was gone.

“Spread your legs a little further apart.”

Lewis stood directly before me. I did as was told.

“Can you smell something? What’s that scent?”

I blushed. This was so embarrassing. I hoped he hadn’t noticed. I was wet. Displaying myself in front of him, in this manner was spontaneously arousing me. In fact, my pussy had been wet the entire week following the whipping.

“Um, I…I’m sorry Sir…I think it’s me.” What else could I say?

“Pathetic. You should be ashamed.”

I was. I was ashamed. Especially when he made me spread my legs further apart, so he could run his fingers along my slit. It was the first time Lewis touched me. His fingers expertly avoided my clit, or I’m sure I would have cum right on the spot. Instead, he dipped inside, feeling how wet I was – and then brought his wet fingers up to my mouth.”

“Lick your stench from my fingers, you dirty whore.”

I did as I was told. My tongue extended out of my mouth, and I lapped at the wet digits presented to me. I tasted myself. That familiar taste. I sucked his fingers into my mouth, thoroughly cleaning any remaining trace of my essence.

“In a little over a week I will send you to your first paid assignment. A woman by the name of Ms. Donovan will pay $5,000 to spend 12 hours with you, during which time you will be well whipped.”

“$5,000 Sir? Wow, that’s a lot.”

“Your cut is $3,500, and you’ll earn every penny.”

So it was set. My first paid gig was arranged. We agreed that after the session, in fact after every session, that I would return to see Lewis so he would examine my body to ensure none of the marks will leave a scar, as well as conduct a post-assignment interview.





CHAPTER 3: MY FIRST CLIENT


Two and a half weeks later, eight days after the whipping…

Yet again I stood before Lewis answering his questions. I felt a bit like an ex-con visiting her parole officer. These interviews were for my own good, of course, to ensure Lewis wasn’t pushing me too far, too fast. But I couldn’t help but deem he was enjoying the process.

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