The Last Submissive – Mistress Elisabeth Hunter (6)

Mistress

I don’t know how long I waited for Mistress Hunter. Time grew distorted in the darkness. It might have been fifteen minutes, maybe longer. Long enough that my wrists began to ache and chafe inside the metal shackles. I lifted up on my toes, stretching, shifting, trying to manage the press of the shackles against my flesh. When I finally heard the clicking sound of heels approaching the door, I was relieved.

Finally. This was the moment I had anticipated, from the first time I had seen the image of Mistress Hunter imbedded in her email—a redheaded Goddess clad in tight black leather, the archetypal vision of female power and beauty. The door opened and that exact vision appeared in the open door, true to her photograph save one exception: no mask hid her exquisite face.

She’s Exquisite

She flipped the light switch and paused in the doorway, studying me, my Viagra-enhanced erection sticking straight out like a flag pole in salute of its new owner.

“Well, Mr. Green, how very nice to see you again.”

Her lips were full and red; I watched the tip of her tongue pass between them in a casually erotic gesture.

She chuckled.

“Oh my, aren’t we excited to see Mistress!”

I assumed the ‘we’ referred to me and my engorged cock. I cleared my throat and tried to sound both manly and reverential:

“Yes, Mistress Hunter.”

For the first time, I noticed she held a riding crop in her right hand, the shaft parallel to her sculpted, leather-clad leg. Her wrist seemed to twitch of its own accord, unconsciously flicking the leather flap at the end of the crop against her calf. Swish, swish.

Anticipation

She walked toward me, an even more pronounced sashay then Lilly, like a fashion model on a catwalk. She stopped inches away, with her crotch straddling my erection, which had grown even harder, if that were possible; it was almost painfully erect.

She smelled of watermelon, and something else I couldn’t quite place, a scent you might catch on a Caribbean island.

“Mr. Green,” she whispered into my left ear, “Welcome to Hunter College.”

I didn’t know what to reply. If this was Hunter College, then I was undergoing admission testing at one of the most exclusive schools of higher learning in the world.

“Thank you, Mistress.”

As if reading the exact words that had just formed in my mind, she said,

“But you are not quite yet admitted to my rather unique college, are you Mr. Green?”

“No, Mistress.”

“Miss Lilly brought me your signed contract. I have taken note of your limitations. Are you fully aware of everything to which you agreed? Any questions? Speak now, or forever hold your piece.”

I looked down at the tips of her stiletto heels, noticing a sharply pointed silver metallic cap on each. Did I have any questions? Yes, of course I had questions, I had a million questions and a million fears, but I was committed now, all in, no turning back.

“No Mistress, no questions,” I replied, hesitantly lifting my gaze to look into her keen blue eyes, fearing retribution but wanting to answer her soul-to-soul.

She forgave me the infraction, nodding, holding my gaze.

“Good, we shall test your resolve these next few days, then, and see if your obedience is equal to your word.”

Obedience is Key

“Yes, Mistress.”

I dropped my gaze back down to the floor. I felt the heat of her body radiating against my bare flesh, the smooth leather of her skin-tight pants rubbing against my erection.

“Good. Then we have nothing else to discuss, and you have nothing left to say. From this moment forward, you will only speak in response to a direct question, is that understood?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“And you will obey without hesitation, no matter what I demand of you.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Good. Let’s get your gag back in place, then.”

She lifted the ball gag up from below my chin and pushed it into my mouth. I swallowed and got my tongue under it while she tightened the buckles, locking it in place.

Time for the riding crop

A moment later the riding crop appeared in my field of vision. She stroked the side of my face with it, then with a swift arm motion and snap of her wrist, swung it down and slapped it hard against my ribs. I flinched, although the pain was less than Lilly’s cane.

But Mistress Hunter was just getting started. A rain of blows fell down on almost every exposed inch of my body, from the top of my shoulders, down my chest and abdomen, to my inner thighs. She saved my balls for last, grabbing my rigid pole with one hand while she slapped her crop against my scrotum, my body involuntarily jumping with each blow.

I grunted against the gag and drooled, my lungs heaving. At times I started getting dizzy, and had to remind myself to breathe through my nose.

Sweat beads

I was getting hotter and hotter by the moment, sweat beading on my forehead, rivulets of perspiration running down my sides. This went on for maybe ten or so minutes, until Miss Lilly appeared in the doorway.

But not just Miss Lilly; before her crawled a man on all fours, on a leash. His head was enclosed in a black hood with holes at the eyes, nose and mouth. Miss Lilly knocked on the doorframe to gain Mistress Hunter’s attention.

“The other candidate, as you requested, Mistress Hunter.”

Mistress Hunter turned her attention to the open doorway.

“Ah, good, just in time, lead him in.”

Lead him Miss Lilly

Miss Lilly jerked up on her leash and led her charge across the room, until he was crouched in front of me. Mistress Hunter stood to the side. The man kept his eyes cast on the floor. I don’t think he even knew he I was there until he saw my feet. So, this was my competition.

I wondered if we were about to be introduced, if they were going to have him stand and we would look into each other’s eyes, man-to-man. But no, that was not the plan, not at all.

“Ajax, lift your head and take this slave’s dick in your mouth,”

Miss Lilly said matter-of-factly, as if she were instructing him to shake my hand. He hesitated. In an instant, Mistress Hunter laid into him with her riding crop while Miss Lilly jerked his head up by the collar.

Gagged and Collared

She grasped his jaw, forcing it open and drawing his lips to the head of my engorged penis while Mistress Hunter’s blows rained down on his hindquarters.

I’ve never had the slightest homosexual attraction to men, so on one level I was repulsed, yet at the same time, the sight of these two beautiful women forcing this slave to take my cock in his mouth was undeniably arousing.

Miss Lilly put her hand on the back of his head and pushed forward, thrusting my shaft deep into his mouth. She held the back of his hood in her fist, making him take my member all the way to the back of his throat, forcing him to suck in and out, fellato in extreme.

Despite my conflicted reservations, I quickly found myself nearing climax.

Time for a Climax

Unless they stopped, there was nothing I could do to prevent it. And I was gagged, so there was no way to warn Mistress Hunter or Miss Lilly of my impending ejaculation.

“That’s a good doggy, keep it up, you’ll soon get your reward,” said Miss Lilly, dispelling any thought that she had any intention other than to have me cum in this man’s mouth.

My head was filled with a cacophony of thoughts, one voice saying,

“this is not what you signed up for—you wanted to worship a female goddess!” while the other voice said, “you agreed to submit to anything; this isn’t about you, it’s about them testing this other man’s obedience.”

No more resistance

And so on. It was a jumble of competing thoughts and inhibitions, with the overriding pleasure that my dick being sucked on, and I was horny as hell and it felt good. Sucked by a man or woman, I didn’t matter . . . I had no resistance.

I came hard, my body spasmed, back arched, arms and legs rigid in their restraints. A week’s worth of pent-up cum shot out my balls into this man’s mouth. He gagged and choked; cum dribbled out the corners of his mouth, but Miss Lilly wouldn’t let him back away and she forced him to swallow it.

Perverse Pleasure

When I had finished ejaculating and it was clear there was no more, she shoved his head down and made him lick the cum that had dripped to the floor. I watched him and felt an odd, perverse pleasure, tempered by the realization that if my Mistress would force this slave candidate to suck my cock, then no doubt I would not be spared the same indignity . . . my turn would come.

And what else? What other extremes to test my obedience?

Next: His Mistress’s Chambers

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Freelance author living near the Blue Ridge Mountains, Virginia.
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