Testing the Submissive: The Story & Confessions of a Masochist (13 page)

My Master was fast asleep, naked from the waist down, but with his shirt and jacket still on.

O
ur one year anniversary…

No
relationship is perfect. Except ours. Lewis and I seem to be compatible on every level. We have a perfect marriage.

We travelled a fair amount
during our first year of marriage, with marvelous vacations in places such as Thailand and Namibia.  A spontaneous trip for us might involve jumping on a plane and hitting a resort in Bermuda for a long weekend, or driving up to Cape Cod, or zooming up to Montreal Canada for dinner.

Life was good. Lewis’ career had its
rocky periods, but he never brought the stress into our home. For my part, I returned to work and got a decent enough job at a Public Relations firm.  We didn’t need the extra money, but it kept me busy and intellectually vibrant. Busy is better than lazy.

Our sex life was
as good as ever. It never slowed down. We fucked like every day was our honeymoon. The kinks were vast and varied. Rough, hard sex to beautiful, sensual lovemaking.

Rather by accident
, we were watching television one evening and a news segment appeared which referenced a ‘secret network’ in North Korea. The context was related to the military so there was no relevance to our
network
per se, other than the word itself. 

I looked toward Master, and he looked toward me.

“Do you miss it?” I asked first.

“Do you?” He responded.

“I do think about it at times,” I confessed.

There w
as a long pause. Neither of us said a word. Meanwhile the television kept on with their story, repeating the word network and secret-network many times, as if taunting us.

“Master, during the year that I was part of the network, were there any Clients you refused?”

“Yes,
there was indeed one,” he responded.

“W
hy did you not send me?”

“I knew you’d be safe from any real harm, but – this situation wo
uld simply be too ruthless and relentless. It would be too much to endure, even for you.”

“Who w
as the Client?”

“His name is Sheik Saeed, in the country of
Qatar. He’s been in the network for years.  Mostly we see him when he visits North America. The few of us who visited his compound in the desert are too apprehensive to send our girls over.”

“So y
ou’ve seen the place?”

“I have. During a trip to Dubai
I took a side trip to see the Sheik at his residence.  Marjorie visited him several years ago as well, however she only stayed for 24 hours.”

“What was it like?”

“Surreal. The building is in the middle of the desert, with stone walls.  It looks like a smaller version of the place they killed Osama Bin Laden.  The Sheik has four wives ranging in age from early 20s to mid 40s. There is a hierarchy among the wives. He has two bodyguards, big burly men who barely speak. And then there are a few servants, a cleaning maid, a chef, etc.  It very much feels like something out of a movie.”

“I’d be
what, a sex slave to the Sheik?”

“Not only that, he requested
a full week. The Sheik himself would whip you at least daily, if not more.  He’d also want to show you off to his Arab friends, so you’d be on display and available for their use.  There’s no way to predict how many might visit in any given week, but it could easily be a dozen or more.”

“The wives would use me as well?  Aren’t they docile and
pretty much wallflowers?”

“You’d think.  But in this case, t
he wives would spite you for being there.  They compete for the Sheik’s attentions as it is, but with you there, they don’t stand a chance.  You’d feel their wrath.  Just ask Marjorie.  And after years of seeking comfort in each other’s arms, they’ve come to enjoy the pleasures of a woman.”

“Something tells me there’s still more.”

“There is. Next in the hierarchy would be the Sheik’s two body guards, both big strong men.  One of them also doubles as his driver.  Far as I know, they would not be allowed to discipline you, but would surely use you for sexual pleasure.  Anytime you are not already in use by the Sheik or his friends or his wives, you’d be fair game.”

“Whew. I’d never rest.”

“No, you wouldn’t. Not even during the night when you finally try to catch a few much-needed hours of sleep.”

“Oh God. I’m not sure I even want to hear this one.”

“Last in the pecking order are the servants – the fat cleaning maid, the old chef, and the dirty grounds keeper who also tends to the camels.  They have the least status in the compound and are all the more bitter because of it.  They sleep in the servant’s quarters, and as a slave, you must sleep among them – that is, when you are finally allowed to turn in.”

“Perhaps they will ignore me, Sir.”

“Fat chance. From what I heard, they’d
await
you. Think about it, sex-slaves are the only people they will ever encounter lower in rank. They can’t pass-up such opportunities. Similar to the guards, they would not risk marking you, but they’d certainly make good use of you.”

There was a pause while Lewis and I both contemplated the horrors that would await me, if he ever sent me
to this desert compound. Then he continued:

“
Now you see why I refused? It would be too much, even for you.”

I
remained speechless. Still a bit stunned. But strangely, I also felt invigorated. I felt fully alive and aroused, and I couldn’t help but notice there was a massive bulge in Lewis crotch, which he was trying to obscure with his hands. He knew such a trip would push me to the very edge of my limits, perhaps beyond, but he couldn’t help but be turned-on by the prospect of it. He didn’t want me to go for
my
sake, but probably for his own sake, he’d have loved it.

The words I heard my own voice verbalize surprised me as much as they surprised Lewis
:

“
Send me.”

“I wasn’t exaggerating Abby.”

“I know Master.”

“Why?”

I knew if I told him I wanted to go to please him, there’s no way he’d agree.  I was scared out of my wits, but I steadied my voice, put up a brave face, “It’s a life experience I don’t want to miss.”

Much discussion ensued. Lewis put up a few barriers, but I countered each one.
It was ironic really. Here’s the man who would send me out to get whipped by others, now shielding me.

I knew I had won when he asked, “
Are you absolutely certain?”

“Yes Master, I am.”

“You also realize if you do this, you’re back in the network?”

“Yes Master, I fully realize the broader consequences of my decision,” was my reply.

Two hours later…

Lewis had crafted the email.  Since I was on a roll, I asked permission to see it in advance.

To:
Sheik Saeed.

Re: my wife

Upon further consideration, I’ve decided I will send my wife to act as your slave for a week. My only condition is that someone be appointed to monitor the frequency and severity of her use by the members of your compound. With potentially multiple users, I need to ensure she receives at least some time for rest and recovery. Otherwise, she might be passed around without anyone realizing how continuously she is in use. Let’s discuss parameters.  Regards, Lewis.

I pulled the laptop toward me
and reached with my hands until they found the keyboard. Lewis hesitated, but then reluctantly nodded. Neither of us said a word, but he knew I was going to tweak it. I typed carefully and thoughtfully, then steered the laptop toward Lewis so he could read the screen.

To:
Sheik Saeed.

Re: my owned cunt

Upon further consideration, I’ve decided I will send my slave to you for a week. I do hope you will make her available to your entire compound including your wives, friends, staff – and any of
their
friends. With my blessing, encourage them to use her as frequently and severely as they desire. Consider there to be no restrictions on how often she is punished or used; or by how many. I trust you will enjoy.  Regards, Lewis.

Lewis
shook his head in disbelief, but underneath I knew he was aroused beyond belief.

Master did not
stop my hand when pressed down on the ‘send’ button.

The End.