Submit To Me - Again
She craves it - the submission, the degradation and only one woman can provide it
This story follows on from Submit To Me.
Submit To Me is free to read and a standalone story, but hopefully it will tempt you to become a paid subscriber and read this one as well.
Shit, I can’t concentrate. My pussy is twitching, my arse feels numb against my office chair. It’s surging through me again, that desire, that want. I crave the degradation.
The caning, the whipping, whatever she did to me was not high on my list of turn-ons but, oh God, it pulsed through me. And she, her, a woman, it’s cock I want. OK, I got that as well, but from one of her subs, not some filthy man who just used me and cast me aside. I have to go back.
I can’t just go and knock on her door. I’ll send her a message.
Two days, two whole fucking days, and nothing. I thought email was supposed to be instant.
A message, at last. 3:00pm. That’s all it says. I glance at my watch. Shit, it’s already two.
I fling my office door open. “Joanna, cancel everything his afternoon.”
“But…” my P.A. says.
“No buts, just do it. I’m going out.”
It takes me forty-five minutes to get across the city before I am standing on the doorstep of her large Victorian house. I look at my watch; three minutes to go. Do I strip now or wait until the hour?
I am so wound-up I follow the instructions as before, stripping off my clothes and placing them in the porch alcove. Now I am naked. Standing on the doorstep with my back to the road. There is a high hedge around the garden, but anyone who walks past the low gate is going to get a good look at my ass.
I knock on the door.
The minutes tick by. It must be well past three now. Did they hear me? My skin is covered in goose bumps, it’s not the warmest of days, and my nipples are sticking out like organ stops, and it’s not just from excitement. My tits jiggle up and down as I hop from foot to foot.
At last the door opens to reveal a naked man. He is no hunk; his round belly overhangs a disappointingly small cock, although that could be because it is contained in the ubiquitous cage. He is also wearing what seems to be part of the uniform for this house: manacles around his wrists and ankles that are joined by a short chain. I cannot tell if it is one of the same men I saw on my last visit as his face is shrouded in a gimp mask.
He points to the floor. I assume the position: kneeling on all fours with my pussy and ass on display through the open door. He clips the collar around my neck, but this time attaches a rod to the collar instead of a lead and then blindfolds me.
I hear the door close behind me and am then guided into what feels like the same room as before.