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Message-ID: <36815asstr$1024179004@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Steven S. Davis" <sd@links.magenta.com>
Keywords: story fiction femdom sm
User-Agent: tin/1.4.4-20000803 ("Vet for the Insane") (UNIX) (SunOS/5.5 (sun4m))
Subject: {ASSM} Pushy Sub {SD} (F/M, femdom, sm)
Date: Sat, 15 Jun 2002 18:10:04 -0400
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d


"Pushy sub" by SD

He sat/knelt at her feet, leaning against the sofa, body lightly
against her leg, head intermittently resting on her thigh and
sometimes raised to gaze on her in utter amazement that he could
be hers.  Usually she'd happily endure his adoration for a while
- he was pleased that she seemed able to endure it longer now,
and was more accepting of her just fate as the target of his 
veneration, or so her smile, which always found its way out from
behind any attempts at a cool indifference, and the fact that her
blushing had almost stopped, so these seemed to indicate - and then
she put a finger on his head and lightly put it back on her thigh.
His hands bound behind him and ankles bound together, naked save
for the "Corrigan cloth" - a "wrong-way" loincloth falling behind
him (save when she decided to move it for direct access to his bare
buttflesh) - and serving as a butt towel when she kept him nearly
naked in her home for hours at a time, there was little more he 
could do for her.

But there is always more that a submissive can do, and a proper
submissive knows that he never has done and never can do enough 
for his domme (a burden which she may sometimes force him to
bear byhaving him remain passive or by refusing his services, 
which is always her right, but she had shown him the favor of 
letting him know that trying to serve her would always be OK,
even if she made him stop).  He knew she was feeling the lust 
to use her power over him to cause him pain, but a lifetime's 
conditioning against either hurting or using people, and her 
own fear of her crueler desires, these were still holding her 
back.  He didn't mind not being caused pain; he'd quite happily 
stay like he was, head upon her thigh as she stroked his hair 
as they shared some quiet time.  But he didn't want to withhold 
anything from her, nor did he want her denying herself any 
pleasure - or denying him the joy of being the instrument of 
her pleasure or the target of her lusts, painlust included.

So, taking a chance on being bold and brazen, he lifted his head
again and gazed at her until he saw the smile break through, and
then asked "May I bring you your whip, madame ?".

She smiled quizically at him and asked "And how do you propose
to do that, boy ?".  The new whip he'd made her from a bicycle
inner tube was on the shelf across the room.

"I can crawl for it, my Lady", he said.

"All right", she smiled at him, laughing at herself as she
imperiously flicked her hand and finger out (she did seem to
be enjoying the royal mannerisms more than she had) "Crawl".
So he slipped down to the ground and began a slow slither
across the room, one slowed only very briefly when she whipped
the corrigan cloth away to better see his ass as he slithered.

Brazen bravado has its charm, but it has its cost too. Crawling
bound is very quicky tiring, and a thick soft carpet very soon 
seems very thin and very bristly, and well before he was halfway
across the room he was getting tired and sore.  But he didn't
dare stop before he got to the whip, and so kept struggling
until he was across the room and got up on his knees and took
the whip in his teeth, and then turned around slowly and started
back.  Now, he thought, she might not mind if he sometimes
stopped and laid panting and gleaming, whip in his mouth, bound
on her floor.  She actually seemed to like the view, so he took
advantage of this to stop, briefly, a couple more times on his 
way back to her.

Finally making it back to her, he struggled up and laid the whip
in her lap, then rested his head on her leg again.  Making it a
point to look over at the whip from time to time.

"For someone who claims not to like pain you seem very determined
to get a whipping from me", she said.

"I don't like pain, my Lady", he said, nuzzling her thigh and daring
to kiss it.  "But you do, and I want what you like".

"Very proper of you", she said laughingly, pressing his head down as
she stroked his hair with one hand, and fingered the whip with the
other.  After awhile she lifted the whip and flipped it a few times,
then pushed his head down so he was kneeling head on ground as she
dragged the whip across his bare back and craved laying the whip
hard across the smooth flesh and watching welts rising and her
submissive squirming and screaming and she felt such heat and yet
still some guilty resistance to hurting him for no reason other
than that she could and that she liked to.  But as he lifted his
head very slightly and let his forehead rest softly on her foot
and said softly "I want to be yours, and if I am yours you can use
me for your pleasure", she both eagerly and hestitantly flicked
the whip softly back, and then brought it down across his back.
Not very forcefully or painfully, but after he said "thank you"
she hit him again, and then again, and again, and he squirmed 
a little and she liked that and hit him again and pulled the
whip back again and hit him hard and he gasped ever so slightly
but she heard it and smiled and said "Hurts, eh " and hit him
again and he squirmed more and gasped and slightly raised his
head as she leered at him and the lovely lines starting to appear
but she hesitated and then he brazenly kissed her foot and she
struck him hard and he kept kissing her foot and she started hitting
him harder and faster and he kissed her feet more passionately
and she kept hitting him, more fully enjoying his pain and waiting
happily after he would gasp and jerk for him to put his lips to
her feet again, and though neither of them would say it each knew
that his kiss would bring more whipstrokes which would come harder
and faster until he shuddered and started and stopped kissing her
feet, when the whipping would stop but the whip would stand ready
until his lips touched her feet again, only his lips, his face on
her feet and his tears pouring over them would not start it, but
when he kissed her feet again the whipping would resume, now more
slow, measured, but very severe strokes, waiting between each stroke
- well, sometimes, when her heat rose, between two or three or four
strokes - to let him gasp and them resume his kisses, the gap between
kisses being longer now as she watched his body shuddering beneath
her even when not beneath her whipstrokes, until deciding that he'd
had almost but not quite enough, she held the whip ready for a long
time as he knelt at her feet before he could kiss her feet again,
and then she started whipping him hard and fast w/o waiting for his
kiss as he cried under her whip before sobbing "Mercy, Mistress"
and hot as she was to hurt him she was only to happy to drop down
a top him and stroke and kiss his hot red flesh and hug and cuddle
him and roll him over and wipe his nose and face and kiss him
long and hard and then hold him until his breathing settled while
her heart still pounded.

And then push him onto his back and let him gaze at her hot flushed
face all he wanted, well, not really, since she soon climbed onto his
face and growled out "Now, you got me this way, boy, so you'd better
get me off, *now*, boy", and gazing at his Lady wasn't on the agenda,
but the flush that met his gaze this time wasn't in the slightest
from embarrassment.


-- 
 Steven S. Davis *  sd@magenta.com  *  ssdavis@netaxs.com
 The soc.subculture.bondage.bdsm Homepage:    
                      http://www.phszx81.demon.co.uk/ssb/ 
 My homepage:         http://www.magenta.com/files/Authors/sd/www/sd.html
 My stories archive : http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/sd

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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