Testing the Submissive(8)

By: Al Daltrey



“Did you return his kiss, or were you holding back?”

“I returned it, for sure. My duty and willingness as a submissive far outweighed any hesitancy because either; I barely knew the man, or because of his appearance. I kissed him with as much passion as he kissed me. When his tongue explored the inside of my mouth, then I explored the inside of his with my tongue. I held him tight. I softly moaned. I ran my fingers through his hair. In one instance, I almost giggled, but other than that, I was one hundred percent into the kiss.”

“What caused the giggle?”

“Grekko has a big-gut, as you know. So much so, I practically had to suck in my stomach to make room for his beer belly, and that caused my breasts to rest on the top of it. I imagined we looked like Ying and Yang from the side, which almost made me smile into the kiss. However, at the same time, both his hands wandered down and he grabbed my ass, sinking his fingers into my flesh. Still being tender and raw from Brutus’ work, the pain snapped me out of any notion of giggling.”

“You waited for Grekko to break the kiss?”

“It happened very naturally. His cock was returning to form. While we kissed, he guided my hand toward it, and I started to jerk him off while we stood. We did that a while. Soon he was rock hard again. I thought he might want to fuck me, but when he pressed down on my shoulder, I knew he wanted another blowjob. I slowly kissed my way lower until he was once again fucking my mouth.”

“If memory serves correct Grekko is a two-orgasm Client, which means he was spent after this one.”

“Yes, he sure was. I was barely able to finish swallowing when he sat heavily in a nearby La-Z-Boy with a peaceful look of contentment on his face. He was sweet when he expressed his satisfaction verbally.”

“What did he say?”

“He said I was lovely. He said he would give me a glowing report when he talked to you. He said Brutus enjoyed his time with me. Then he said I was totally free to go, and our session was formally over.”

“You gathered your things and left?”

Answering Lewis’s questions wasn’t always easy, but I really didn’t want to answer this one. I wanted to lie, but I couldn’t do that. I hesitated, trying to buy time to think. Then I asked a question of my own:

“Sir, would you mind if, just this once, I’m permitted to avoid the question?”

Lewis moved his chair closer to mine. He wasn’t pleased. I realized that I had made a mistake by attempting to avoid his question. After all, it was breaking our underlying agreement. I had agreed, explicitly from day one, to answer ALL of his questions with total honesty, and here I was begging off one. I fucked up. I knew it was pointless to apologize, so I sighed and waited for the punishment that was sure to come. Lewis reached under the table cloth, and started to hike up my skirt. Luckily our table was hidden from much of the commotion in the restaurant, and no one could see or notice what he was doing. My thigh was soon fully exposed, but still under the table. There were three small candles burning, each in a glass that resembled a shot glass. Lewis poured the excess wax from two of the glasses into the third, and I knew what was coming. The only question in my mind was that of ‘distance’. The difference between pouring wax from six inches above the skin, versus say, two inches – is huge. Lewis moved the glass to my thigh. Oh fuck. He rested the glass on my skin, and then tipped it over. The hot wax poured onto my inner thigh. And there was a good dollop of it! Three glasses worth. If not for being in a restaurant, I would have screamed. I bit my lip so hard I thought I tasted blood. The wax was hot as hell! It poured along my inner thigh leaving a trail of pain as it went. In fact, while I didn’t know it at the time the skin would peel in the days to come. The pain was a rude awakening as to what would happen if I dared refuse a question again. I fought back tears and whispered my apology over and over.

I knew I was forgiven when Lewis allowed me to redeem myself.

“Not only will you answer the question, you will do so with more detail than usual. Clearly, you’re ashamed about something, and you will spell out every detail of what it is. Take your time, and tell me exactly what happened after Grekko ended your session.”

Just then our main courses arrived. Over dinner I told him:

I told him about gathering my clothes and dressing myself while Grekko watched and rested from the comfort of his La-Z-Boy. During those few minutes, we made small talk. Grekko asked if I had any other plans that evening, and I told him I did not. He then made a comment that he was too tired to touch me, but if I wanted – I could stay and fuck his foot. Both his legs were extended, and inadvertently I glanced toward his foot which was resting on its heel, pointing upward. I froze. I was appalled and yet, I couldn’t deny I was still highly aroused, even after cumming all over Brutus. Grekko reiterated his offer. He reminded me that our session was officially complete, and I was under no obligation to stay. However, if I wanted to stay and fuck his foot, I could do so, as long as I cleaned it afterward with my mouth and tongue. I turned to leave and, like a zombie, I walked toward the door of his house. Reaching it, I put my hand on the handle. But I didn’t turn. I was telling myself to leave, but my body wasn’t obeying. Instead, my hands went up to my blouse and I unbuttoned it. I kept my back to Grekko until I was nude. I couldn’t look him in the eye, as I was too ashamed. Then I dropped to my knees, turned around and crawled toward the La-Z-Boy. He had slouched further down. When I reached his foot I kneeled upright and lifted one leg over, so I could squat down on it with my pussy. That’s when I thanked my host:

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