Testing the Submissive: The Story & Confessions of a Masochist by Al Daltrey Read Free Book Online Page B

spend the next 12 hours whipping you, and fucking you.” 
    He had said it so matter of factly. I was too stunned to speak.  A similar feeling washed over me as I had felt only minutes earlier.  I was sad that my vacation as his girlfriend was over; but strangely glad-to-be-home as his pain slut.
    Leaving the airplane, I couldn’t deny my new French thong was remarkably wet in anticipation of what these four Koreans had in store for me.

CHAPTER 9: KOREAN ART
    Forty eight hours later…
    Normally Lewis waited until my body healed before calling for me.  This time he wanted to see the fresh handiwork of the Clients.  I removed my overcoat slowly.  Not that I was trying to be dramatic, I was still that sore.  I was about to remove the remainder of my clothing, but Lewis stopped me.  He wanted to begin our post session interrogation instead. I stood before him still wearing my loose fitting T-shirt and a pair of light track pants. Underneath that, as Lewis would soon see, there were serious welts, deep bruises, and a few spots where the skin had broken. The Koreans worked me over, but good.  They had whipped me, and fucked me all night long.
    But befo re viewing the evidence himself, Lewis launched into the questions:
    “Did they whip and fuck you at the same time, or did they take turns?”
    “Mostly they took turns Sir, but the order would change, as well as the length of time.  It wasn’t particularly structured, but by the end , each of them enjoyed ample time with me alone.”
    “Who went first?” he asked.
    ‘They tied me up, in an awkward uncomfortable position, and then they played some sort of a Korean game, similar to rock paper scissors I guess.  The one who won, I believe his name is Kai.  He went first.”
    “What did he do?”
    “My body was arched backward, it’s hard to explain, but essentially my torso formed a bow.  My tummy was stretched and became a perfect target. Kai had a heavy piece of thick rope.  He soaked the rope in the kitchen sink making it even heavier.  Then he whipped my stomach with it, from just under my breasts to an inch or so above my pubic area.”
    “How did you react?”
    “I grimaced and stifled my cries, best I could. A few times the pain overwhelmed me, and I howled aloud.  I did my best to maintain my composure.”
    “How many times did he strike you?”
    “About seven or eight times, and then another of them, I think his name is Ace took over – but it was because Ace wanted to show them a particular technique.”
    “What was the technique?”
    “He swung the heavy rope, but just at the moment of impact he pulled sharply toward himself, so at the cusp of contact the rope was dragged across my skin, in effect causing a harsh rope-burn along the length of the welt.”
    “Did it lessen the pain or worsen it?”
    “I t was neither less nor more severe, it was just different. The rope-burn added a new aspect to the agony.  It felt like my skin was being burned off.”
    “How many did he deliver?”
    “Ace only gave me one more, but then the others took a try with the new trick. Some got it. Some didn’t get the timing quite right. Regardless, my stomach was in pure hell.”
    “Show me your tummy.”
    I lifted my T-shirt up, not enough to reveal my breasts, I’d save that for now, but enough to show Lewis my belly and waist.  The horizontal welts were still very visible.  In fact, they had darkened. The strikes where the pull-technique was applied, left a unique mark. The bruising wasn’t as dark, but the skin was chafe from the burn.  Lewis could see that upwards of a dozen strikes had decorated my flesh.  A few of the strikes had also wrapped around my waist.
    “What was next on your agenda of harm?”
    “The men untied me and made me kneel over the ottoman. The Korean who was next in the queue beat my ass using his belt. I don’t know his name because he was quiet and barely spoke. He lashed at me quite recklessly. He was also the first to