Testing the Submissive

By Al Daltrey

Abby stood nervously before her Master in the classic submissive pose: fully nude, legs apart, wrists placed behind her back; deeply ashamed of her evident arousal. Worse, she had to recount in exact detail the proceedings of her last whipping. The whipping had been severe; as was the case with most of the clients she was commissioned to serve. Most of these clients were men, some were women, on occasion a couple, or even a group. Nevertheless her body reacted like that of a wanton whore as she retold of the sadistic punishments and extreme sexual use inflicted upon her body.
How far would her Master push her with these ‘tests’? How far would Abigail go? How many times could she stand before him blushing; yet with that unmistakable tingle? Their relationship was surely headed for a collision course. Or was it?

This story contains STRONG BDSM. While fully consensual, it includes submission, dominance, sadism and masochism. Please do NOT buy or read this if you are offended by graphic sexual descriptions including sexual violence. All characters are aged 25+, and it is recommended for an adult audience ONLY (aged 21+). This story is pure fiction and the author does not condone any violent behavior.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Al Daltrey
• Release date: Jun 29, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311633378

Al Daltrey

Al Daltrey is well acquainted with the bdsm lifestyle after many years of first-hand experience. This interest started in University with exploration of bondage, spanking, and control. A few years later playful spankings were no longer cutting it; and Al delved deeper into the scene. This opened up dozens of new experiences. His stories and characters are entirely fictional; however the scenes were inspired from and loosely based on true-to-life events.

Book preview

TESTING THE SUBMISSIVE

Al Daltrey

Copyright 2014 by Al Daltrey

Smashwords Edition

This story contains STRONG BDSM. While fully consensual, it includes submission, dominance, sadism and masochism. Please do NOT buy or read this if you are offended by graphic sexual descriptions including sexual violence. All characters are aged 25+, and it is recommended for an adult audience ONLY (aged 21+). This story is pure fiction and the author does not condone any violent behavior.

The author welcomes your comments, or any concerns:

[e-mail]

Dedicated to every dominant that learned one must never take a submissive for granted.

And every submissive who learned that pain runs both ways.

PREFACE

Abigail Watson…

I knew there was a part of me that was different from most, if not all, of my girlfriends.

Sure, every girl dreams of a beautiful wedding. We all want to fall crazy-in-love with a cool, fun, smart, sexy, successful guy. I guess I wanted that too, in a way. But I never saw myself as a Princess. I never wanted to be fawned upon. There was something a little different happening in my head.

Late at night, under the covers, in the private darkness of my bedroom, my fingers would wander, along with my thoughts. The storyline wasn’t rooted in romance. Instead, I would envision myself strung up from the ceiling, hanging by my wrists, body covered in sweat, tears falling on my breasts, while some man I cherished stood behind me with a whip.

The more the guys around me in college catered to me, the less interested I became. Don’t get me wrong, I like sweet attentive men – as friends, maybe. But guys like that just don’t excite me. To find one’s way into my late night fantasies, my suitor required an entirely different style.

I craved a strong unforgiving dominant that would put me in my place.

CHAPTER 1: MY FIRST INTERVIEW

Meeting Lewis…

I guess you could say that Lewis became my pimp. Or my agent. In some ways, my owner. Point is he arranges ‘assignments’ for me. These assignments involve whippings. The subject being whipped, in all cases, is me.

In our discreet and underground bdsm network, I am referred to as a ‘whipping bitch.’ Clients, both inside and outside the circle, whip me for a price. I’m paid well. Lewis makes all the decisions, all the arrangements, and he takes his cut of the action – 30%. For my part, I’m severely whipped on various areas of my body, or possibly on all of it, then almost always thoroughly fucked, or used sexually in one way or another. It’s my job, but more importantly, it’s my life.

The terms of my contract with Lewis were discussed over an interview. I say discussed and not negotiated, because I really had no say in the terms. My input was basically a yes or no thing. The interview ensured that Lewis had my consent. He has never, and would never send a submissive out on an assignment, without her genuine consent.

So here I found myself: standing completely without clothing in front of a man ten years my senior. He was fully dressed of course, and barely acknowledging my naked form. I stood in the classic submissive pose, unbound with my wrists behind my back and my fingers intertwined. My feet were planted about a foot and a half apart, slightly further spaced than a normal person would stand. The room wasn’t cold, but I was trembling a little, more from nervousness than the temperature. The room itself was remarkably large. This was one of the most expensive loft suites in the city. The building itself had been around for almost a century, originally as an industrial structure. The best architects from near and far bid on the re-design with a firm from Japan ultimately winning. Each suite featured polished concrete floors, custom kitchens, exposed duct work, expansive style windows and open concept floor plans. Indeed, this guy had money and the word was it was all self-made. Financial Services apparently. I couldn’t have been more nervous when I asked the security guard in the lobby to buzz me up. The guy looked me over, and I couldn’t help but wonder how many other women had endured his stare.

Once inside the suite, there was very little small talk before the interview commenced in earnest. I’d been told to remove my clothing as if it was the most normal thing in the world, and away we went.

I take it you’ve been whipped before? Lewis asked with indifference in his voice.

Yes, I answered as confidently as I could.

We talked about my past. I told him about my ex boyfriends, those early experiments in college with bondage, my first spanking, my first lesbian experience, the first time I sucked two cocks in one night. The truth was, I was not nearly as experienced as I tried to let on. Lewis saw through that pretty quick. Nevertheless, he knew I had potential. He could sense I had a high tolerance for pain, and a naïve willingness to let practically anyone do almost anything to my body.

In addition, Lewis had no hesitation talking to me like I was less than human.

So, basically you’re nothing but a dirty little tramp, aren’t you?

Yes, Sir. I answered, my eyes lowered.

A total slut, willing to be whipped like a common whore, is that what you are?

He wanted me to spell it out. The humiliation of having to explain myself, reinforcing my true consent.

Yes, Sir. I must be. I’m sorry for what I am. It’s true. I am a slut. And yes, I enjoy being whipped.

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 BONA FIDE 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.

How did you feel the week before the whipping?

At first I tried to get away with giving a vague answer, but he was having none of that. Lewis was highly intelligent, and very intuitive – and I realized in that moment that fooling him would never work. He demanded my full and unfiltered honesty. And he made it very clear that if I wasn’t willing to trust him, disclosing my inner-most feelings, our relationship as pimp/whore was doomed to fail.

He repeated the question: How did you feel the week before the whipping?

I was on edge all week. I was nervous. At times I was certain I’d back out. In moments of weakness I worried I wouldn’t have the courage to go through with it. Then, a few minutes later, I’d be wildly excited by the prospect of being whipped.

How did your pussy react, during this emotional roller coaster?

"I was highly aroused. My pussy was almost always wet. I would masturbate, at the mere thought of what was going to happen, which brought some relief.

Reviews for Testing the Submissive

[Theresa · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Believable. THIS is the way 50 shades SHOULD have been written. Still a "fairy tale" type romance. But a much more realistic page turner. Packed with full spectrum bdsm experiences that make the reader feel like it was actually lived.