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Trish -- The Submissive Stranger
Chapter # 2
by Lewis Chappelle
I thought Trish probably was a gutsy chick, but I didn’t know just how gutsy she was until I saw her return to the hotel wearing her very provocative red dress, with several bags in her hands each loaded with sex toys. She had shopped hard at the seedy, X rated, adult shop late last night. That shopping spree must have been quite a taxing experience for her as she normally projected a modest sense of values and sensibilities. However, she didn’t look the worse-for-wear when I saw her come into the hotel lobby; in fact she looked even more chipper than I had seen her previously.
Even early in the morning, I could tell she was in a good mood again. I didn’t have to remind her of her duty to wake me gently with her mouth. My cock responded to her like it did yesterday; quickly and energetically. When I was fully erect, she moved easily to straddle my hips and slipped my cock effortlessly into her cunt. Then, she began to use her cunt muscles to work me deep inside her and started to rhythmically shift and rotate her hips on me.
I knew she felt my hot jism spurt into her because just at that moment she took the liberty of lowering herself onto my chest pulling my cock with her.
She said, “Master, please let me cum now too, I am so full of raw sexual tension and excitement I’m likely to explode.”
“No, slave! Learn some patience and self discipline, here. Work your clit on my cock and count to thirty. Then you can cum.”
Her body quivered for the half minute or so, then she pressed down even harder and moved all her hind muscles to grind on my poor cock. She came with a series of thundering, convulsing movements for what seemed like an eternity. It is indeed a marvelous feeling for a man to be able to be there to witness such an exciting, erotic event.
“God I love you, Master,” she sighed at long last.
The day was still young!
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My head was clear and I was as focused as I ever was. My task was to wake up my new Master gently with my mouth… raise it from the dead so to speak. It wasn’t long before I was riding him like a bronco and having a wild ride of it. Master made me wait to cum for an eternity because he knew the wait would only intensify my cum. “How did he get to friggin smart?” I thought to myself.
We settled in under the covers for another hour of light slumber, stroking, squeezing and cuddling.
Master wanted a full breakfast, delivered by room service. He made me make the call with no further information regarding his preferences. He just said I’d better be right. I guess I knew what that meant. When the service arrived, he would only let me answer the door in the long tailed shirt he had worn all day Sunday -- unbuttoned. I was very careful when I signed for the bill but I’m sure the young man get more than his normal bonus tip for the day when I had to use both hands to do it.
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My new slave girl is very compliant. And, she is patient and doting. I could easily get used to all that obedience and attention. And when she straps on those heels she drives me wild.
The sumptuous breakfast was set at a nice table with a view of Las Vegas to die for. She slipped off my shirt after signing for room service and went about tending to whatever women do in the bathroom to look their best.
“Geez, does she have a tight body” I thought. When she was finished fussing in the large marble tiled bathroom, she poured a second cup of coffee for me without being told. “But, she will suffer for me today as well, I mused “just because I want to see how she reacts to torment under my hand.”
“Kneel here beside me, slave, and I’ll feed you some of the remains of this great breakfast. You know, slave, that I will control your every move for the rest of the week: drinking, eating, pissing, shitting, and cumming. All of the things worth doing in that wretched life of yours, I will control. Is that clear, slave?”
“Oh yes, Master, all that is clear. And frankly, if you don’t mind me saying so, its just what I want and need from you, Sir.”
Just before noon, we spread out all the goodies we had purchased late the night before, for inspection. Her bounty crammed the entire dresser top and mine rested easily on my suitcase lid. She could only guess at my intentions regarding some of the things I had gotten, such as the Ben Gay and Tabasco sauce.
After the goodie inspection, I made her stand near the door to the suite with her legs apart holding her tits up for me while I got on a table and began to screw in two of the sturdy metal hooks directly into the center of the living room ceiling. I’d already figured a way to patch the holes, if that became necessary, and I’m sure Trish had already figured out that she would be suspended from those hooks.
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My new master has a gentle voice but he means business. He gave me some orders for how to wake him up each morning and made me order his breakfast As we got near the noon hour we did take time to inspect all of our erotic purchases. Some of his acquisitions were confusing to me, but then I guess a slave is not to know everything.
Then he had me pose naked to watch him screw in some hooks into the ceiling of the living room. It didn’t take me long to shiver at the prospect of being stretched and vulnerable hanging from those hooks.
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“Have you ever been suspended by your wrists, slave?” I asked nonchalantly.
Trish just shook her head to indicate that she hadn’t.
“Slave girl, when I ask you a question, you are to answer me in words; clear and articulate words. Do you get my point?”
“Yes, Sir, I’m sorry, Sir. I know what you mean. And no Sir, I’ve never been hung in any way whatsoever. Never, Sir!”
“I’m going to remedy that situation very soon, slave. And then I’m going to let you taste the sting of those nice whips you got, last night. Have you ever been whipped before, slave?”
Trish was quick to respond, that no, she had never been whipped before. I thought she might then tell me that she as wasn’t looking forward to that experience, but she kept her own counsel on that one. Perhaps she was thinking I would go easy on her if I thought she was a virgin to the whip and for a brief moment I considered doing just that.
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Master told me to bring him the new rope, the knife which still lay on his suitcase lid and the three whips. My cunt was alive once again in naïve anticipation of what was going to happen to my nice, smooth, skin. I’m sure he wanted me to trust his judgment and I did, but I was still unsure of just what he had in mind. Those whips looked menacing and I thought, “geeze, I’m the one who picked them out!” I was going to get punished by my own whips.
He told me to fetch the two pulleys, the paint brush, the roll of blue painters tape back in the bedroom and to collect four books, all the same size, from the small suite library. “What is this devil-of-a-man up to?” I thought. However, that notion didn’t stop me from hurrying to do his bidding on the double.
Then Master told me to bring him a set of the nipple clips, a face cloth, and the Ben Gay and Tabasco sauce. He really had me guessing at that point. Maybe he just liked to see me running around naked just to see my tits jiggle; if that’s what he wanted from me, than that’s what he would get.
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Trish was a very obedient slave for me and retrieved all the items I would use in her first punishment session. I’m sure she didn’t have a clue as to how all that stuff was going to fit into my plans for her, but she hustled just the same.
I hooked the two pulleys onto the ceiling hooks, and cut two thirty foot lengths of rope from the roll and threaded each through a pulley until it reached the floor. The four books were placed, two per pile, directly under the pulleys and now, my slave was ready for some action.
I wrapped a strand of rope around each wrist several times and tied them tight. When she was standing on the two piles of books, I pulled the still free end of the rope strands, and tied them to the legs of a Mediterranean-styled server near the windows of the room. Her arms were pulled tightly over her head, and I could see the strain in her face and the ripples of flesh and muscle across her rib cage.
Next, I snapped the clips on her already distended nipples. She winced at the sudden, shocking, pain.
I took the wash cloth, Ben Gay cream and Tabasco sauce to the small kitchen were I mixed the cream and sauce into a creamy paste, rinsed the wash cloth in warm water, and wrung it as dry as I could. Trish was watching all this with her big green eyes just trying to put all the piece together.
I told her to open her mouth and shoved the damp cloth deep in her mouth and secured it with a long length of the painters tape. That type of tape wouldn’t hurt coming off yet it would hold the cloth gag nicely in place. I didn’t want anyone to answer her screams if she couldn’t help but yell. I slid the book piles about two feet to each side of her, still allowing her to balance herself on them.
But, the ‘peine forte et dure’ would come when I applied the cream mixture to her cunt, clit, and ass hole with the small paint brush. And, did she ever struggle in her bonds. She made what would certainly have been a sever scream had she not been gagged, when that mixture - - “The Devil’s Brew” I called it -- settled onto her sensitive erogenous tissues. She threw her head back in agony, and tears came to her eyes; I knew she would cry and I hadn’t even used the whips yet.
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Master kept me running for various materials he had purchased, and I had no idea how all of that stuff was going to be used on me but I had an idea that it would be painful. Eventually, he had me hanging by my wrists -- straining would have been more like it. He slid run his hands up and down over my tits and rib cage while I was pulled tight which was erotic but he didn’t fondle my clit. It certainly would have been more fun and less painful than when he used the paint brush to paint some of his devilishly creamy mixture deep into my ass hole and cunt.
God, that was really painful! No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get any real sound from my mouth, or any relief. I guess Master knew I’d needed a good gag to muffle my scream when that stuff hit my cunt and ass. Wow! It was terrible. I hung there for over forty five minutes trying to cope with that deep, searing, pain. I knew how long it was because my devilish Master had positioned a clock directly in front of my eyes. Time did not seem to move at all.
“I’m not done with you yet, slave girl,” Master whispered in my ear. Not the nice lovers- whisper of last evening but he spoke more in a menacing, soft, low, voice. However, he did release the nipple clips which was no fun either. The pain of the blood rush into my nipples was worse than the when he first clipped them. I know I pulled backward to get away from that dreadful ache.
“Lift you right leg, slave,” he said. And when I did, he took the two books which had been supporting that high heeled leg away. “Now, lift your left leg.” This action put me on near tip toes. The kind of pose you read about in torture stories.
He made me kiss the thick, black whip before he snapped it at my left ass cheek. It wasn’t as bad as I might have thought actually. The stress and strain on my legs was a lot worse.
It didn’t take long until Master warmed up a bit, and was really getting my attention. I counted fifty strokes to each cheek before he stopped. I was in tears again; real honest tears. I wanted to be brave, and I wanted to please him with my ability to suffer for him, but at a certain point I just had to cry.
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Trish cried again after I whipped her ass with a broad leather whip. That surprised me since I hadn’t even caused any welts on her and I didn‘t break her skin. I did let her settle down before I removed her gag and released her from her stretched position. She was a mess.
I unlaced her heels and removed her hose before I carried her to the bed and slid her under the covers noticing the extravagant amount of cunt juices which had dripped down her leg. She was a real pain slut and I was proud to have her as my slave. She dozed off quickly with a quiet smile on her tear stained face. She slept soundly for three hours.
When she awoke I noticed that all, and I mean all, of the redness produced by the whipping had disappeared. She was a quick healer. I had her shower and fix herself up before I ordered dinner by room service. She knelt by my side and dutifully ate from my hand once again.
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The End of Chapter # 2
Note # 1. I would appreciate any comments regarding this work sent to biggreek100@aol.com. And, if you wish to correspond with me, I’m usually agreeable to that as well at the same address.
Note # 2: The author claims copyright protection for the work published above, and any derivative work, under the provisions of the Berne Convention as signed by the USA in 1989. LC
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