Your erotic stories

Too many erotic stories. Erotic stories free to watch. Only the best porn stories and sex stories

Submission Denied

Category: BDMS
BadFairGoodInterestingSuper Total 0 votes

I heard the car’s engine shut down and frantically rushed to be in kneeling position beside the front door. My wife, Stacy, entered the moment I’d assumed the required pose, eyes downcast and hands clasped behind my neck. She was in relatively good humor tonight, cheerily saying, “Hello, pet. Have you been waiting long?”

“Only ten minutes, Mistress,” I lied.

“Really! Then we must have company. Who is it?”

“Wha- What do you mean, Mistress?”

“Let me draw a picture for you, slave. A dark night, a lit house, pulled curtains, shadows. I’m not blind. You lied to me! How dare you?”

Already frightened and sobbing, I pleaded, “I’m sorry, Mistress. I didn’t think a little white lie would hurt.”

“It’ll hurt all right. Stand up and get dressed,” she said.

I went to the bedroom, befuddled, and put on my clothes. Returning to the kitchen, I saw Mistress Stacy preparing supper.

“Hi, it’s almost ready. Would you set the table, dear?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Oh-h-h, don’t call me that,” she laughingly said. “I’m not your Mistress. I’m your loving wife.”

“But, Mistress . . .”

“Please, darling. If you stop calling me that I might be in the mood to give you a good time later on.”

Shattered, I knew what she was doing. She was implementing a terrible punishment for my lie. Stacy was withdrawing her gift of domination and rejecting my submission. I tried to head it off by telling her again how sorry I was and that it would never happen again.

“That’s right,” she said, “it won’t.”

For the next week, we lived an extraordinarily vanilla lifestyle. Except that despite her suggestion of “a good time” a week earlier, there had been no sex, just an infrequent hug. I had to call her Stacy or Darling or any other endearment; never Mistress. Friday night of the second week Stacy told me she’d invited a new friend to come visit this evening and she’d appreciate it if I went out and caught a double bill or something.

“Just don’t come home until after Midnight,” she said.

“Can’t I visit with her as well?” I asked.

“It’s not a her, it’s a him,” she said, “and, no, I don’t think that would be a good idea. I’m interviewing and auditioning a new, part-time slave.”

Crushed, I begged her to cancel and to resume our own D/s relationship.

“You canceled that, Dear, when you lied to me. It wasn’t the first time, was it? Of course it wasn’t. You’ll continue to be my husband if you want and, with luck, Hal will be my new slave. Now, I must get dressed. Have to make the right first impressions, don’t I?” Her demeanor was conspiratorial; cheery, bright, a just-between-us attitude.

“Please get ready and get out of here. I’ve still got to get my leathers and boots on and your being underfoot will just slow me down. Have a nice time, dear.”

Underfoot! I know she said that to torture me. Good God, if I could only take back that dumb lie. But there was no way it was going to fly tonight. She was determined. I had been banished as her slave. I wanted to cry. Halfway through the first feature, I did. I couldn’t stand it. I got home just before 11, well aware of my post-Midnight time requirement.

Feisty now, I thought, “What the hell. It’s my house. I’m not her slave anymore. I’ll come and go as I wish.” and put my key in the lock, going inside. Stacy, wearing her long, black leather dress, her spike heeled boots and her amazing make-up, had Hal before her on the end of her leash – my leash! – kneeling naked in the living room. She was not at all flustered by my early arrival and calmly introduced us. “Slave,” she said, “this is my husband, Alan. Alan, this is my prospective slave, Hal.”

Conditioned by manners taught any civilized people, we ludicrously mumbled our hellos. I noticed his red ass and the welts on his upper thighs.

“Hal has made some good progress tonight. I’m not quite ready to take him on as a regular slave, but he certainly has potential.” The remarks were directed to me but Hal thanked her. “See how good he is?” she said.

Again he spouted a “Thank you, Mistress.” This was infuriating, frustrating, maddening, saddening – every conflicting emotion you can think of.

“Your timing is excellent, Alan. Slave and I were just finishing. He’s already cum on my boots and licked them clean,” turning to him, “haven’t you, slave.”

“Yes, Mistress. Thank you, Mistress.”

She’d had him cum on the boots I had spent so many days and nights worshiping, cleaning, polishing! I couldn’t believe it.

“Get dressed and leave me now, slave. Phone Monday at my office.”

“Yes, Mistress,” he said. “Thank you, Mistress.”

Stacy sat back on the couch, supremely relaxed, and watched as Hal dressed, kneeled to kiss her feet, said his good-byes and left. “That was wonderful, Alan. I’ve missed having a man at my feet so much. Whipping him was grand. God, I’m horny. Let’s go to bed.” And, with that, she was on her feet and beginning the disrobing process, unzipping the leather dress as she walked upstairs. I sagged into the easy chair, sat with my legs spread, elbows on my knees, head in my hands, once again near tears. How could I have been so stupid? How could I have negated our special relationship, the relationship I so badly needed?

I didn’t hear or see her approach but from the landing I heard, “It’s difficult for you, isn’t it, Alan? I’ve watched your behavior over the past week or so and I’m not immune to your agony. I’ve softened my position by only just a little. I won’t become your Mistress again for quite some time but I will admit that whipping and abusing Hal just didn’t have the same thrill.”

I sat up, enthused and invigorated by her words.

“Don’t get your hopes up too high. If I take you back as my slave, you’re going to have to wait. What’s more, if I do take you back – and that’s still a strong if – the training you’ve endured up until last week will be as nothing compared to what would be in store. Think well on what I’ve told you. In the meantime, I’ve got Hal to play with. But I’m not entirely heartless. If you feel you need to be under feminine control from time to time while I make a final decision, you may see a professional. I won’t object.”

My ebullient mood was dashed. It wasn’t a professional or any other woman I needed to serve. It was her, and I said as much.

“Alan, my darling, I can only repeat that you think about everything I’ve just said. If I do take you back as my slave, it may be far too intense for you. Take your time. Think hard.”

She was the Mistress of the double entendre. Being hard was easy; thinking hard a whole other problem, particularly at the moment. But I was smart enough to recognize the basic psychology at work here. She knew I wanted to serve her and was hinting she might take me back… If. Of course, that tactic only made me want her the more. She smiled, watching my mind at work, knowing exactly what was going on.

“I see the thinking process has already begun,” she said, “and, if you’ll forgive another pun, it’s much like the carrot and the stick, isn’t it? Except we’re talking about the stick.”

“Yes, Mistress, it is.”

The moment I said it I was aware of my mistake. But she softly batted it aside. “Not yet, Alan. Perhaps in a few weeks. Let’s go to bed.”

I wanted to talk right then but she was adamant. If B&D was to be a topic, it couldn’t include her and I, she said. Sure, we could talk about Hal and her plans for him, about the possibilities of my seeing a ProDom, or of finding an E-mail Domina … but not about my slavery to her. I remained heartbroken.

Saturday, we went downtown shopping. On our way was the toy and leather shop Stacy continued to patronize. She asked that we stop in, that there were a couple of things she wanted to buy. We both knew Grace, the lady doing the customer work. She was the boss’ wife and had been in the store for at least 10 years. She appeared glad to see us. “What do you two need today? I thought you were pretty well stocked.”

“Actually, this is for me. I have a new slave who needs some of his own equipment.”

Grace was a model of discretion. No questions, just a simple “What can I show you?”

“I want a bit-harness, a cock-and-ball harness, a butt plug and, for good measure, a nice new flogger.”

Grace and Stacy wandered off. Morose, I sat in the waiting area as the two talked and shopped. Stacy and Grace whipped the air with a few of the implements before Stacy made her decision. Back in the car, she said, “That new flogger is beautiful, isn’t it? I’m going to have a wonderful time with Hal Monday night.”

“I thought he was only to phone you at the office Monday,” I pouted.

“Exactly. And I’m going to tell him to come over. I want to whip him again.”

God, she was torturing me.

Back home, I carried in the groceries while Stacy held her new purchases. She handled the package in an exaggerated fashion that, I’m positive, was meant to tease, to remind me these toys were not for our use but rather for her play with Hal. “Just put the groceries on the counter, Alan,” she said. “I’ll put them away. Here,” handing me her bag of new toys, “please put these upstairs on my dresser.”

I sullenly took the bag and obediently moved up the carpeted stairs to our bedroom. Inside, I couldn’t resist looking, drawing out the bit-harness and the flogger, then the cock-and-ball harness and the butt plug. I inspected each, fondling them.

“They are nice, aren’t they? Her voice surprised me since I hadn’t heard her approach. She seemed to do that to me quite often. Guiltily, I began putting it all back in the shopping bag. She took it from me, extracting the flogger.

“Alan, just being in the store today turned me on and holding this lovely whip is doing good things for me. Would you mind if I tried it out on you?”

I was amazed. It was only last night she’d said it would be weeks, at the earliest, that we might resume our D/s status. Not stopping to question her, I said, “Please do, Mistress,” hoping to earn my way back into her good graces. I began removing my pants.

“Oh, that won’t be necessary, Alan, and don’t call me Mistress. Just stay standing and turn around. I just want to try a few practice swings.”

Rebuckling my jeans, I turned and Stacy swung the flogger at my ass seven, eight, nine… a total of ten times. The sting I felt through my pants was minimal, yet tantalizing. “Thank you, Stacy,” I said.

“No, thank you for letting me try it. I can’t wait to use it on Hal’s bare butt.”

I resigned myself to her unyielding attitude, lowered my head and left the room. The rest of the day was spent alternating between projects in the garage and yard work. Make that a ditto for Sunday. Stacy remained sweet and kind, making my meals, chatting enthusiastically about various subjects, and not alluding to anything having to do with D/s.

Monday, the work week began. The whole day my mind couldn’t shake for more than a few minutes at a time what Stacy had planned for the evening. I phoned her office at mid-afternoon and asked if things had worked out the way she planned.

“Uhuh,” she said. “Hal’s coming over at eight. I told him what I bought Saturday. He can’t wait!”

“And what would you like me to do, go to another double bill?” I asked.

“No, sweetie, you don’t have to do that,” she said teasingly. “If you want, you can help me get ready, then stay upstairs while we play. You can listen if you want.”

I mumbled acceptance and we disconnected.

After supper, Stacy stood and said she had to start preparing. She asked if I’d come up in about half an hour to help her dress. When I got there, her make-up was perfect, her hair exquisite. She was naked at her vanity table.

“Alan, I’m feeling incredibly feminine tonight and that’s the way I want to present myself. Please bring me my black lace bikini panties and push-up bra from my dresser.”

I returned with the items and she arose, asking me to hold her panties while she stepped into them. I bent to the task, holding the waist in both hands as she put a hand on my shoulder to steady herself. “Pull them up nice and snug.”

I brought them up to her hips, then smoothed the front and back, my blood boiling.

“Now the bra,” she said. “Please put it on me, then do the snap in front.”

I fitted her breasts into the half-cups and clicked the snap closed, her wondrous orbs straining forward as I did.

“Give them a quick kiss,” she breathed.

I kissed and licked the exposed upper breast portions greedily, losing myself in her scent and her softness. She gently pulled my head up, kissed me passionately on the lips, then asked for her lace garter belt and the black stockings. I encircled her waist with it, then clipped it closed. She took the hanging garters and put them under and through the legs of her panties, front and rear, before sitting and extending a leg.

“Kneel, Alan, and put my stockings on for me. Roll them up my legs and fasten them.”

On my knees with the silk stocking in my hands, her toes extended straight out before my eyes. I looked longingly up at her and she recognized my need. Nodding in unspoken agreement, she gave permission. I took her toes in my mouth sucking each before I felt her pushing all five digits, along with almost half her foot, between my lips.

“Suck, Alan. Enjoy. Know that later on tonight, you’ll be up here while Hal’s getting the full treatment downstairs. Now, stop. Get my stockings on me.”

I finished the job, my eyes beginning to tear, the emotion of what was happening beginning to overwhelm me. I looked up. Stacy extended her hand, cupped my chin, and lifted it so she looked me in the eye.

“Yes, Alan,” she said. “This is how it will be for the time being. You will help me prepare to meet my submissive, then you’ll suffer up here by listening to what I do with him. I have a sense, Alan, that what you’re going through right now is probably the second-worst punishment I could inflict. First, of course, would be dismissing you entirely from my life. Now, get up and bring me my short, black skirt and the white blouse. They’re both hanging on the inside of the door.”

I returned with both. She wanted the blouse first. I held it for her as she slipped her arms into the sleeves. She had me button it to a point just above the clasp of her bra, revealing plenty of cleavage. Next, she motioned for the skirt and, once again, I held the garment as she stepped into it. She turned and had me do up the zipper.

“All we need now are my shoes. Bring me the patent black pumps, the ones with the four-inch heels, and put them on me.”

Again I knelt, helping her feet into the shoes. She sat back, crossed her legs and swung the suspended foot. “How do I look, Alan?”

I managed to say in a trembling voice, “You look magnificent, Mist… Stacy.”

“Poor Alan. What am I going to do with you?”

I blurted out, “Please take me back as your slave, Mistress. Please. You’re breaking my heart.”

Stacy extended her shoe to my lips. “Kiss and lick, Alan, and listen closely. Remember what I told you Friday night. If I do take you back, it won’t be anytime soon. And, again, if you do become my slave again, the training you’ve already undergone will seem as nothing. This time, IF you’re accepted, I will be far stricter, far more comprehensive.”

“I thought of nothing but that all weekend long, Stacy. I’m ready to accept whatever you have in mind. I know I wouldn’t be happy living without you.”

“Are you sure, Alan?”

“Yes, Stacy, I am. Please take me back.”

She stood, turned her back on me, lifted her skirt and lowered her panties. “Kiss it,” she said.

Gazing at her buttocks, I felt my excitement rise, my cock swelling as it lengthened. I did as she asked – did what I wanted to do – leaning forward and running my mouth over the smooth globes of her ass, licking her skin.

The doorbell rang.

Stacy raised her panties and turned back to me, looked down and saw my arousal. “I’m going downstairs now, Alan, but I don’t want you to play with yourself while I’m playing with Hal. Stay right where you are. I’ll let him in, then be right back.”

She left the room. I heard her open the front door and greet Hal. She told him to go into the living room, disrobe, and await her on his knees at her chair.

Moments later, she came back to where I remained kneeling in our room. She walked directly into our closet and came back with shackles and the ball gag. “Take everything off, Alan, and lie down on the bed.” She insisted I hurry.

In no time, I was lying on my back and Stacy shackled my wrists and ankles to the bedposts, then had me open my mouth to accept the gag.

“You can listen, Alan, but I don’t want you interrupting my fun,” she said. “And I don’t want you playing with yourself. I’m going to want your cock later on.” With that, she turned to leave the room. By the door, she gave me a quick look, blew me a kiss and said, “Imagine it’s you down there. Enjoy.”

I struggled just a bit to see if she’d been proficient. She had. Then I heard her voice floating up the stairs as she walked into the living room. “Hello, slave. It’s nice to see you again so soon. Are you happy to be here?”

“Yes, Mistress Stacy,” he said. “Ever since Friday you’ve been constantly on my mind. You’re absolutely gorgeous tonight, Mistress.”

“Good boy, that’s what I like to hear.”

I heard the springs of her chair as she sat, the rustle of her stockings as she crossed her legs, and her sensual voice saying, “Slave, crawl forward, lick my shoes and beg me to show you the things I bought Saturday.”

The next two hours were a succession of sounds: A long flogging, moans, hands and knees on floors, chains rattling, protracted whimpering, Stacy’s commands given, Hal’s muffled obeisance. I laid there with an erection throughout, simultaneously pained at her performance with another man and thrilled that she’d bound me, forced me to give her my full attention by listening.

The front door opened and closed. Stacy came back to me. I looked at her as the bedroom doorway framed her magnificence. Her eyes glowed. I noted the moisture on one of the toes of her shoes.

“That was wonderful,” she said as she reached under her skirt to remove her panties. Even from where I lay I could tell they were soaked.

Stacy came to me atop the bed, sat astride my chest and positioned her vagina over my face. She undid my ball gag, threw it on the floor, and demanded: “Eat me, Alan. I still need that attention from you.”

The next moment I was being smothered in her, in her fragrance, in her need, in my desire to please, in my desperation to be, once again, her property, her slave. I adored her with my mouth, bringing her the kind of pleasure and ecstasy I was sure only I could bring. My mouth, my chin, my cheeks, my upper lip, my nose were all drenched with her essence… and still she rode my face, reaching back with one hand to enclose my cock in her grip; pulling it, squeezing it, caressing it, jerking it. I wanted her to impale herself on it but she remained where she was, enjoying my oral attentions – over and over again. Her magic hand worked me to peaks and depressions, taking me to the edge then pulling me back, over and over again. I was so absolutely ready for orgasm.

And then she collapsed, rolled off my face and laid beside me on the bed, snuggling her head into my shoulder, her small hand still holding my cock, still gently massaging it upwards and downwards. My entire body remained captive, still bound by wrists and ankles to the bed posts. The tops of her index finger and thumb had acquired a large deposit of my precum, and the account because of my frenzy was earning interest. Stacy brought her hand to my mouth, pushed it between my lips and had me clean it with my tongue.

My eyes closed, my lips and tongue working to clean her hand again displayed my worship and adoration as I tenderly and responsively submitted to her will.

“Thank you, Alan. I guess you know how hot Dommeing Hal made me. I think I gave him more of his new flogger than he’d bargained for, but I loved using it on him… loved seeing his ass color up so nicely… loved his little moans… loved his begging and pleading… and loved watching him kneel masturbating for me. I had one foot in his mouth while he did it. It felt so good knowing I was his ideal, the ultimate live centerfold who actually watched him pull it in his desire to please me. And who told him to shoot his cum onto the toe of my shoe. Watching and feeling him lick it all up and swallow was bliss.”

All through her speech she continued fondling my cock and balls. “But, do you know what turned me on even more? It was knowing you were up here all tied up and listening, knowing you’d have this hard-on for me when I got back. “Would you like to cum now, Alan? Would you like me to suck it for you?”

“Stacy, please. Please allow me to kneel and jerk off for you, too. Please!”

“You know,” she said, “that’s something only a slave does for me. You’re not my slave yet, Alan. Come on,” she said enthusiastically, “shall I fuck you or suck you, or both?”

The woman I adored with all my heart was offering me what any other man would consider the epitome of sexual happiness. I was miserable, so much so my erection was fading. “Mistress,” I said, in tears, “Please take me back as your slave now. I can’t stand it any longer. I must serve you. I must belong to you. Please reimpose your ownership, Mistress. I’ve learned my lesson. Honestly I have. What can I do to get things back to the way they were, Mistress?”

“Alan, things will never be the way they were. If you’re sincere, your servitude will be tested to your absolute limits and probably beyond. Any semblance of my kindness will be gone forever. What you heard me do with Hal was really only play. There won’t be any play between us. It will be very real. I don’t know if you can do it.”

“Please let me try, Mistress.”

“One more time, Alan. I’m offering you a well-rounded and complete existence here, including a great sex life. It’s yours for the taking. If you decide to become my complete and devoted slave, however, any thoughts you might have had of doing even the most basic of things must be banished. Let me give you an example. This bed we’ve shared would no longer be yours to lie in. You’ll never sleep with me again. Instead, you would be kept in chains on the floor or in a cage. You’ll never sit with me over a meal again. Instead, you would cook it for me, serve it to me, and take scraps from my hands from your place under the table. Your slavery would be absolute and complete. I’m not going to need your decision tonight, Alan. As I told you before, this is something you must give considerable thought to. Let’s talk about it on the weekend.”

Stacy began releasing my arms from their bondage. My cock had wavered through a series of ups and downs during her monologue and – because of her imposed delay until the weekend – was now down.

“Don’t you want to get off, Alan?” she asked. “I’d be happy to blow you, suck you until you cum. I’d love to trap your cum at the back of my mouth, then let it gradually slide down my throat.”

Ordinarily, I’d jump on that offer like a kid rushing to a Ferris wheel. Tonight, I couldn’t. Stacy had done an extraordinary mind-fucking on me, and we both knew it. Nothing happened. We just got ready for sleep and did so, though mine, I must admit, wasn’t quick in coming. I had a lot to think about, not to mention a raging case of blue balls.

Driving to the office next morning, I thought about Stacy’s ultimatum. I knew she wasn’t kidding about my slavery being far more than what we’d done up until last week. In my more rational moments, I feared it. But, overall, I was intrigued. I wanted to be hers. I knew she was the only woman I knew, or would likely ever know, who could affect me the way she did. Did I want her current June Cleaver persona? I must admit there were certain aspects that weren’t so bad but no, there was no way I could live in that vanilla world for long.

Before I got to work, I’d made my decision. But, rather than spontaneously call right away to tell her, I thought I’d wait a day or so to let the decision mellow.

Stacy was already home when I came through the door. She kissed me on the cheek and said supper would be ready in about 15 minutes. I had time, she said, to go upstairs, get cleaned up and change out of my suit.

At supper, we talked about our respective days and what went on. I did not raise the subject of my submission and sensed she was disappointed. Throughout the evening, we read, watched the tube, had a snack together and – overall – had one of those really pleasant evenings at home.

It was in our bedroom around 11, as we were preparing for bed, that Stacy emerged from the bathroom in her high heeled mules and a new negligee, a black, see-through number with bra and panties included.


Remembering my earlier decision to wait until tomorrow before telling her I’d irreversibly decided to submit completely, I knew this would be my last night of equality. When she came near me, I reached out, took her in my arms, kissed her passionately, and said: “It’s about that blow job . . .”

She laughed, reached for me and stroked my cock to hardness in an instant. I laid on the bed, enjoying all of her moves, including that incredible mouth. Her body still excited me… her spontaneity still made me putty in her hands… her entire being was my strength… my will… my need to be alive. I enjoyed and cherished every moment. God knew if I’d ever be in this position again. We slept the sleep of the innocent, spooning and hugging each other all night long, loving, glad to be with one another.

At breakfast, Stacy caught my eye, held it, and said, “Last night was wonderful. I loved every moment of it. But I recognize it for what it was, Alan. It was your swan song, wasn’t it? You’ve decided to accept my terms for your slavery.”

“Yes, Stacy, I have. Please take me and train me the way you’ve described. I need it, Stacy.”

“I know you do, Alan. I need it, too, and I need it with you. We’ll begin tonight.”

“Thank you, Stacy.”

“I’m not so sure you’ll want to thank me by this time next week, Alan. I haven’t been exaggerating what I’m going to be doing to you. It will be very severe.”

“I understand.”

“No, I don’t think you do, but you will.”

Her side of the conversation was spoken in very soft yet emphatic tones. It was only now that I began dreading what she had in store for me. “Since you have decided to accept my terms, I won’t be going to work today. I have preparations to make. Be home by 6, Alan. At 6 your life changes forever.”

“Yes, Stacy.”

“And, Alan. That will be the last time you use my name without ‘Mistress’ in front of it.

“Yes, Mistress Stacy.”

“Off you go. I’ll see you at 6 sharp. I wonder how effective you’ll be at the office today.”

I knew her last remark was rhetorical. I lowered my eyes, picked up my briefcase, and left the house. At five to six, I pulled into our driveway very much aware of the time. I wanted to begin right so waited in the garage until 6 sharp before opening our front door. Taped to the mirror in the front hall was a note from her. There was no way I could miss it:

Slave — Go to MY bedroom, take off all your clothes, put them away neatly in the guest bedroom, put on the harness you’ll find atop MY bed, then come to the basement. You have three minutes. Mistress

I rushed as quickly as I could but there was no way I could meet her time requirement. Five minutes later, wearing only the new harness, I moved down the stairs to our cellar. The first person I saw was Grace from the leather and toy store, spectacularly garbed in full leather regalia. I wondered what she was doing here. Then I looked around the room. Everything had changed!

Mistress Stacy had obviously put her day toward equipping the rec room as a full dungeon: Stocks, St. Andrew’s Cross, cage, a complete wall outfitted in leather bondage and discipline implements, hooks in the floor, ceiling and walls, and all manner of related paraphernalia. My eyes couldn’t be deceiving me but I hardly believed what I saw. Grace got my attention back by saying, “Welcome to your new home, slave. Mistress Stacy has asked that I prepare you.”

This was the first time I’d seen Grace outside of her store. She was dressed in a body-hugging, leather catsuit, the legs tucked into a pair of vicious, spike-heeled boots. “Get down on your hands and knees, slave, and crawl over to me. Do it!”

Confused, yet knowing Mistress Stacy had set this up, I obeyed, crawling to Grace.

“Lick them, slave. Say hello to me properly. You will never refer to me again by any name other than Mistress Grace, no matter where we are.”

“Yes, Mistress Grace,” I responded, after having licked her boots.

“Stand up, slave. I’m going to connect all those buckles you couldn’t reach, then I’m going to tie your balls. Don’t move a muscle.”

I stood, remained silent, watched what I could and felt her hands and fingers where I couldn’t see. By the time Mistress Grace had finished, my hands were immobile, my balls were separated, my cock was sheathed and the butt plug – part of the harness – was in my ass.

“There,” she said. “You’re almost ready for Mistress Stacy. Just one more minor preparation. Get back down on your knees and bend your head as close to the floor as you can.”

“Yes, Mistress Grace,” I said, doing what I could to obey. I watched out the side of my eye as she reached up to the wall and took down an intimidating whip, flexed it, snapped it in the air and cracked it on the floor. She was an expert. Probably all that time spent in the store.

“And now, slave, I’m going to do what I’ve wanted to do ever since we met. I’m going to whip you, long and hard, in preparation for your true Mistress. Make no mistake, slave, she wants it this way. Mistress Stacy wants you softened-up before you see her. Are you ready? I am.”

She flogged. Harshly. Methodically. Completely. I was in tears when she hung the whip back on the wall, turned to me, held the back of her hand to my mouth and said, “Thank me, slave.”

I kissed and licked her skin then spoke the grateful words required.

“Now, crawl over to the cross, slave. I’m going to bind you to it in preparation for your true Mistress.”

In a twinkling, Mistress Grace tightly and severely tied me to the St. Andrew’s cross, including a belt around my midsection so I couldn’t wiggle my butt. My genitals were exposed just below the X of the cross. I heard a door open behind me and the pronounced sounds of high heels on solid floor. Not a word was spoken until she came into view. I gasped. Mistress Stacy wore an outfit I’d never seen before, black shoulder length kid gloves, a black leather halter which hooked under her breasts thus forcing them up and out with her full breasts exposed, and a matching garter belt, panties, black nylons, and spike-heeled boots. I grew more and more excited as I looked at her body, my cock beginning to swell as she stood before me.

“Welcome to you new life, slave. I wasn’t exaggerating . . . and now you’re about to find that out for yourself. I asked Mistress Grace to soften you up a bit, for a couple of reasons. The first is that your new life will always involve submission to whomever I wish. Get used to that concept. The second is that hers was simply a warm-up to what I’m about to do. I am now going to reduce you to complete and abject servitude. You will be completely broken, Alan. When you’re released from this room it will be as a fully-trained house pet. My house pet. Your status will be simply that, no greater than a cherished lap dog. And that’s the way I want you, slave, trained, eager to obey, your tongue hanging out just for me.”

Mistress Stacy was carrying a riding crop and she ran it gently along my shaft as she spoke. When she’d finished talking, she looped the leather of the crop’s handle around the head of my cock, just beneath the head, twisting it to tighten the leather thong. I screamed in pain.

“That’s right, slave, scream. I want to hear it. This is only the beginning.”

I couldn’t believe what was happening. Stacy had metamorphosed into exactly what she had told me she would be; a truly compelling and complete Domina. Even as my cock and my ass ached from those first few tortuous minutes in our new dungeon, my mind was a cacophony of conflicting thoughts and emotions. On the one hand I wanted to call everything off right now and run. On the other, I felt complete in that Stacy had truly taken those first steps – by word and deed – to reduce me to true slave status.

I said nothing though I sobbed aloud. She walked behind me and I heard her snap her fingers. Instantly, the unmistakable sounds of crawling entered my ears. “And now, slave, I’m going to touch you up a bit more. Mistress Grace only gave you an hors d’oeuvre. I’ve got the main dish. While I use the bullwhip on you, slave Hal will be busy polishing my boots for me, won’t you, slave?”

“Yes, Mistress,” I heard Hal respond.

“Lick, pet, while I whip Alan. Pay close attention. Don’t worry, though. I’d never use it on you with the force and the pain I’m about to inflict on Alan. He’s my number one slave whereas you’re just my toy. Mark the difference well.”

With Hal licking her boots, Mistress Stacy flogged me to the point of screams and pain and tears, great tears. My legs, thighs, buttocks and back were marked with a series of crisscrosses, weals, welts and cuts. Mistress Stacy put a 3″ wide collar around my neck, locked it closed, then attached a leash.

When Mistress Grace released me, I collapsed to the floor then crawled as fast as I could to press my lips to Mistress Stacy’s boot, the one not being worshiped by Hal. I thanked her, I worshiped her and told her I was ready to commit myself to her service forever.

She looked down at me and sneered. “Perhaps you are, slave, but I’m not convinced. Go and beg Mistress Grace to squeeze your testicles. Show me how much you want to obey.”

She was right, of course. I hesitated a split second too long.

She grasped my leash in her hand, pulling it taut, and said, “I see I haven’t been severe enough, slave. You obviously need more convincing. When I’m through, you’ll be anxious to have Mistress Grace’s hand squeezing them.”

With those words, Mistress Stacy flogged again, her whip slashing down as I lay at her feet. There was no subtlety in this whipping. Her only goal, it seemed, was to inflict maximum pain and suffering. This was punishment. I ached, cried, moaned, screamed out my desire to be obedient, to serve her properly.

She stopped.

Mistress Stacy allowed me a moment to compose myself, then asked, “Is there something you want to do, slave?”

“Yes, Mistress,” I said in a breaking voice, and raised myself to hands and knees. I crawled to Mistress Grace’s feet and begged, “Please, Mistress Grace, please take my balls in your precious hand and squeeze them. Please squeeze them hard so Mistress Stacy will see my obedience and my desire to please her. Please.”

“With pleasure, slave,” she said, bending to her task. I watched as she slowly extended her hand, wrist and lower arm toward me. I felt her fingers and her hand wrapping themselves around my testicles, appreciating her momentary light caress, then I screamed aloud as what seemed like a vice-grip took the place of her delicate hand.

Mistress Grace held her grip for a long time, clearly taking her cue from Mistress Stacy. Finally, she released me and I collapsed face down on the floor, breathless and sobbing.

Some moments later, Mistress Stacy’s boots were at my head. “Thank me, slave, for reminding you of your status.”

Through my gasps, I said, “Thank you, Mistress Stacy, for teaching me I must obey immediately. Thank you for letting me know you won’t tolerate any more of my hesitancy.” I kissed her boot to finalize my statement.

She had me kneel upright, put the end of the leash in my mouth and told me I could have a few minutes to recover. “You may watch me play with Slave Hal,” she said. “What do you say?”

“Thank you, Mistress Stacy,” I mumbled around the leash.

She turned on her heel and approached Hal. He had a big grin on his face and one that could have been interpreted as approval for her actions with me. At least, that’s the way Mistress Stacy interpreted it. “Is there something that amuses you, slave,” she asked him.

“Permission to speak freely, Mistress?” he asked.

“Go ahead.”

“Mistress, I liked what you did to your slave and I wanted you to know how much I approved of it.”

Mistress Stacy’s face took on a look that I knew from both scene and vanilla life was one of deep displeasure. “Oh, you did, did you? What makes you think your input in this area is of any relevance and, more importantly, where do you get off even having such thoughts?”

Mistress Grace jumped in, “Lighten up, Stacy. He was only saying what we three have been thinking.”

“And what about slave Alan?” Stacy asked. “Perhaps we should get his opinion, too.” She took the leash from my mouth. “Your turn, slave. Speak up.”

I took a moment, looked up into Mistress Stacy’s eyes and – biting the bullet – said, “Mistress. My dedication is entirely focused upon you. I have no desire or inclination to be under Mistress Grace’s control whatsoever and, as much as I know this might be something you won’t like, Mistress, I am feeling that the approval or disapproval of people beyond the two of us has no relevance whatsoever. It is you to whom I pledge my submission and obedience and it is you who I wish to serve. The presence of Mistress Grace and slave Hal is inappropriate, Mistress, their opinions, their actions, too. As your slave I know I must obey… but, as your life partner, I wish to ask that you excuse them from our relationship entirely.”

Mistress Stacy stared at me at length, a smile gradually forming on her lips. She then said, “He’s right. He belongs to me and he had the courage to say so. Thank you both for being here and supporting me as I began Alan’s retraining. Please get yourselves together and leave now.”

I bowed my head in relief and thankfulness. Mistress Grace huffed and puffed but Mistress Stacy was unrelenting. Hal attempted to move toward Mistress Stacy’s feet but she stopped him cold. “I won’t be needing your services anymore, Hal. Please leave with Grace. Perhaps she can fill the void you’ll feel without me.”

I remained kneeling, the leash once more jammed in my mouth, as the two prepared to leave. All I could do was watch. When Mistress had seen them out, I heard her steps fall on the staircase leading back to me.

She approached with that dazzling smile of hers, stood a couple of feet in front of me and said, “Thank you, my precious slave, for helping to bring me back to reality. Neither of them had any business being here during this very important time for us. You are the man I want as my full-time slave . . . You are the man I will fulfill my promise to of taking into deep servitude.”

She let a moment or two go by before resuming.

Picking up her whip, Mistress Stacy said, “And now we will continue.”

* * *

Leave a Reply* Marked items are required

bootlicker wrote

“Submission Denied” is head-and-shoulders above any other story this worthless worm has had the privilege of seeing on the internet. Warmest sincere compliments to the author. The character of [Mistress] Stacy is just about the most genuinely human Domme on record. She truly loves Alan, more deeply than most wives, and more sanely and rationally than any other Domme in literature.
One hopes the author will continue this narrative, if at all possible, in the same realistic but erotically exciting and satisfying vein. This bootlicking dog will dream about Mistress Stacy for many more nights.
While one cannot be sure of the identity or gender of the author, one suspects it is a Woman, simply because She has created such a full rounded personality in Mistress Stacy, and seems to understand the thoughts of this level-headed Domme as well as those of Her devoted slave Alan, better than any male possibly could.
Please forgive this slave’s clumsy response, limited by its male mentality and awkward efforts to express gratitude: if, indeed, the author of this story is Female, as seems clear enough, this submissive creature approaches Her feet in spirit, with the utmost humble gratitude, begs to kiss Her boots in thanks, and pleads for a continuation of the story, if it pleases Her to be so generous and kind to an undeserving audience.