My new dominant Mistress, a Lesbian Dominatrix, did not lie to me. The apron does not fail to irritate my glans with every movement I make. So, I force myself to do the dishes while avoiding moving as much as possible. I quickly get rid of the apron to clean the rest of the apartment. Indeed, Madam did not order me to keep it on for that task.
Whispers of Submission: A Journey Under the Lesbian Dominatrix
As I sweep the hallway, I can’t help but hear the submissive moaning behind the closed bedroom door. More precisely, I hear muffled sighs. However, I can’t tell whether they express pleasure or pain. One thing is certain: it doesn’t fail to excite me. Yet, once again, my budding erection is quickly interrupted by this damned chastity cage.
Madam’s bedroom is the last room I tackle. I linger there much longer than the others. Indeed, I open the large wardrobe and admire her skirts, dresses, and shoes. There are corsets and even a magnificent pair of front-laced thigh-high boots, enough to fuel my wildest fantasies.
Suddenly, the door to the room where Madam is busy torturing her submissive opens. I jump and quickly close the wardrobe. Indeed, I don’t want to be caught red-handed spying, so I get back to work.
Then Madam appears in the doorway, perched on her high heels.
- “I need you,” she says sharply. “Put down the broom and follow me!”
I obey without question and follow her into the bedroom. It is a room I already know from having seen it from my balcony.
Bound in Service: The Lesbian Dominatrix’s Reward
There, I discover the pretty blonde submissive with pigtails, lying down. Her arms are bound at the wrists and elbows, stretched above her head, and tied to the bed’s headboard. Her buttocks rest on the edge of the mattress, and her ankles, firmly secured to each bedpost, keep her legs, clad in stockings, in a wide split.
Her shaved sex is bright red, likely from a vigorous whipping. She’s gagged with a huge ball gag deeply lodged in her mouth.
She looks at me as I enter, frightened.
- “I’ve finished punishing her,” Madam says, “but since she agreed to touch your disgusting glans, I’d still like to reward her. The problem, you see, is that Jessica is a squirter. So, she has the annoying tendency to make a mess of everything when I make her come. You’re going to make yourself useful. Lie down on that bench over there.”
I am discovering a narrow bench mounted on wheels.
I lie down on it, legs together, arms along my sides. It’s roughly my size, so my feet don’t hang off.
Madam quickly fastens leather straps around my ankles, thighs, and torso, securing me to the bench. She, then, ties my wrists beneath it, tightening them into straps I hadn’t noticed. Finally, she places an open gag between my jaws, forcing my mouth wide open.
Fountain of Submission: The Lesbian Dominatrix’s Triumph
Next, I see her rummage through a drawer in the back. She pulls out a transparent plastic funnel and inserts the spout into my mouth. Fortunately, it’s not too large, and I manage to tolerate it.
Then she rolls the bench so that my head is positioned directly beneath the submissive—or rather, her genitals.
I immediately understand what’s about to happen. I’m not sure whether to be thrilled or worried.
Madam then grabs a vibrator and turns it on. The device emits a soft hum. She places it on her submissive’s clitoris while vigorously masturbating her with her fingers.
The moaning resumes, softer this time. From where I am, I can see her legs trembling more and more, her buttocks lifting in rhythm with her Mistress’s hand.
It goes on and on. The cries grow higher-pitched, and then, as expected, the submissive explodes in orgasm.
“Explodes” is the right word, as a spectacular jet of fluid pours into the funnel. Madam wasn’t lying. Jessica is indeed a squirter. It doesn’t stop there; the jets continue in bursts with each wave of pleasure.
Swallowing Submission: A New Role Under the Lesbian Dominatrix
I have no choice but to swallow quickly, gulping it down to avoid drowning in the sheer volume—much to Madam’s amusement, as she gives me a mocking look.
I don’t really have time to savor the girl’s juices. I take no pleasure in it, too afraid of choking.
- “I had my doubts,” Madam says, “but it turns out you can be useful after all. I think I’ll keep you in my service, as I have other tasks for you. And maybe I’ll even enjoy having you as my punching bag. I’m not used to torturing men, but looking at you, I’m getting plenty of ideas. We’ll see if you can handle them. Are you ready to give it a try?”
I nod affirmatively.
Of course, I’m scared. This woman is incredibly perverse.
But isn’t she the dominant Mistress I’ve always dreamed of?
To be continued…
