Confession Of A Frustrated Sub by Leasha

Confession of a Frustrated sub

“My name Is Elle. I am a submissive. This is the story of how I got to where I am”

I sat alone in a café nursing the one cup of coffee I could afford, it was a cold wintery day, rain was lashing down, turning the windows into waterfalls. People were hurrying by in all directions, clambering to get out of the rain.

I heard musings in brief caught conversations the other day. Sitting in a café you’re provided with all sorts of secreted conversations. Hushed musings drift around the cafe describing a place where no one judges you, no one, changes you, and people are just like me. This place, is near, somewhere, I have spent the last three weeks searching for the allusive place. My luck is running low, funds drying up, so here I sit, nursing the last cup of coffee, the money in my pocket no longer jangles. This is my last hope.

There is this woman, a strange, intriguing woman, she comes in every day to fetch a double shot latte. I watch her from my booth, she exhibits a proud shameless confidence, not quite arrogance, a secureness of her own persona. Every day, dressed in thigh high leather boots, covered in a beige trench coat she enters the shop, walks directly up to the counter, whether a queue or not, and picks up her coffee then leaves. I sit with the rest of the café, watching her in awe. Something stirs deep within my belly, a longing to be with her, no, not be with her, be controlled by her.

Today, this is it, I have to do it, nursing the coffee cup between my hands, now completely empty, I wait, watching the clock, 10.10 every morning without fail, will she be here, the butterflies raise into my throat, tightening, as a tremor courses through my body, betraying my nervous excitement.

She enters, straight to the front of the line, gathers her coffee, was it my imagination, did her eyes linger on me, the butterflies become giant birds, she did, I knew it. This is it getting to my feet, clumsily I knock the table as I follow her from the café. We walk along the pavement for what seems like an hour, but in all honesty it was only 15 minuites. Turn into an ally, and enter a warehouse. A man on reception buzzes her through, into a red velvet covered room, I follow, expecting not to get past the guard, but no, I enter freely.
Into the room, I find myself standing alone, she has slipped away. Standing alone in the middle of the velvet room, I begin to panic, my chest rising and falling in horror at what I have done. Breathing heavily, clutching my hands to my chest, my panic builds, I spin around and around, searching for the way out. When I hear it, a voice, soft, gentle, cajoling me.

“Be calm, I am here.” The voice as soothing as it is does nothing to bring my anxiety down, I continue to panic, “STOP!” I freeze, held mid turn by an invisible force, the authority of the voice, sends tingles down my spine. “Good girl” I straighten, my chest still rising and falling with such vigor, my heart may well jump from my chest. “I am here, stand still” the voice it’s somewhat familiar, comforting. “Strip yourself!” like a deer in headlights, I cannot process the instruction, I stand completely still. “STRIP, NOW” slowly realising what the command was, I scramble to remove my clothing, tearing at my body, throwing the items from my position. I stand, naked, yet extremely aroused at the combination of the voice and vulnerability of my situation.

The door slides open and there stands the woman I have seen every day for 3 weeks………

Her name, Noir.
Standing slightly taller than I, her skin, unblemished, perfectly pale, as though carved from pure porcelain, hair, jet black, cascades in descending folds across her shoulders, shimmering against the paleness of her skin. A perfect name for one so wonderful. Distracted by her beauty I did not see what was to come.
Unexpectedly, a soft touch of a feather caresses against my right breast, the soft touch, sends sweet tingles through my entire body, like I had been zapped by a jolt of electricity. The tingles and ripples of pleasure continued to course over my skin with each stroke of the feather. My whole body tenses, Arching, reaching forwards, craving more of the touch, I stand frustrated by my own arousal, a pained look of desperation crosses my features, reaching to my eyes.

As I stand trying to get my bearings, my hands are pulled roughly above me, fitted into restraints above my head, in my panicked state I never noticed how exciting this small room could be. As it was I now stood fully exposed to her whim, in the middle of the red velvet room.

Swiftly, punctuating against the air, a swish catches my ears, unconsciously my body tenses up. It’s too late now, I see the whip just before it connects against my belly, teasingly close to my exposed pussy. The stinging tail burns, coursing over my skin, for a tentative moment the whip lingers. Noir strokes the whip upwards slowly draping the tails across my shoulder, the fluttering end touches against my erect nipples.

With care and skill Noir passes the whip around my breasts, teasingly letting the tail skim against my nipples for only for a moment, curling the tip again, letting it dance against my belly. Noir moves silently behind me flickering her wrist, the small movement sends the whip caressing against my outer thigh. The suspense of the first touch against my pussy causing moans to escape my lips.

A single touch, that is all I need, one gentler caress and my need would be no more, teasingly close to the surface my orgasmic arousal teasingly fills the air hinting at showing its self. The time between caresses of the whip increasing, leading her to the most frustrating edge I has ever held, I know that my body will betray me, just one more touch, “Please, Mistress”, the word naturally slips from my lips as I wait with baited breath, holding back, as hard as I can, knowing I can no longer hold back any longer.

It arrives, the final flick of the caressing whip, it strokes with precession right in the centre of my pussy, touching to her red hot swollen clitoris, I lose myself, releasing my hands from the restraints in an explosion of pure lust and pleasure, uncontrollably I scream, as my body shuddering and contracting falls to the floor each muscle betraying the sense of release I feel. I feel her, beside me, stroking my face, softly cooing “Good girl.”

We lay entwined, enjoying the sweet smells of satisfaction filling the room,  we both basking in the sensual afterglow, the ripples of pleasure once coursing through my embraced body slowly subsiding, leaving only an explosive memory and faint aftershocks of electric tingles as we hold one another.

“Mine” her lips teasingly brush across my own, a single finger curled under the steel of my collar now laying against my collar bone, tugs, bringing my face so close, I can almost taste myself on her lips, my eyes close, lips pout outwards, expecting, hoping, craving her touch. Noir’s lips curl into a sneer, I feel myself falling, the tender moment, gone, I realise I am hers and I sigh……………..