The Day My Mistress Introduced Me to Her Apprentice

After months of messages, waiting, and half-kept promises, he was finally there. That man, who at that instant had no name because he had given up having one, was kneeling before Mistress Vera. No one but him knew how much he had had to beg to get into that closed, windowless room where the air smelled of leather and hot latex.

The mistress had an impossible body, wrapped in a black corset that gleamed under the single lamp switched on. Violet hair spilled over one shoulder. From her waist hung a harness with a dark rubber cock that swayed with every step she took, like a pendulum marking the time the submissive had left to regret it. Her tits almost overflowed from the corset, laced so tight they became two half-moons of white flesh he did not dare look at for more than a second. Her thighs, stuffed into fishnet stockings, ended in knee-high leather boots.

—Fuck, finally… I’ve been waiting so long —he muttered from behind the leather mask that hid his face.

He was a small man, medium height, with nervous hands. Beneath the mask, his breathing came in broken gasps. He positioned himself exactly as he had learned in forums and in his own fantasies: legs wide apart, hands crossed behind his back, chin lowered. He was trembling from head to toe, and it wasn’t from cold. His cock hung hard and red between his thighs, already leaving a thread of pre-cum gleaming at the tip.

—Ready? —she asked in a deep voice, with no warmth at all.

—Ready!

—Ready what else?

—Ready, my mistress! —he corrected at once, swallowing.

Vera gave a brief smile. She stepped back two paces, took a little momentum, and drove the toe of her boot straight between the man’s legs. The blow echoed through the empty room like a slap in a church, sharp, flat, with a dull crack of leather against flesh. A second later came the howl: he doubled over, grabbed his crotch with both hands, and fell sideways to the floor, clenching his teeth and arching his back. His balls throbbed as if he had a second heart between his legs, and even so his cock did not go down: it jerked against his stomach with every spasm of pain.

—I think that was my best kick in a long time —she commented, unruffled. She knelt beside him, stroked the back of his neck with the tip of her gloved fingers—. Are you all right, pup?

The man nodded, face pressed to the floor. Then, against all logic, he started trembling in a different way. It wasn’t pain: his body was shaking with pleasure. A hoarse moan escaped the mask as he came without anyone touching him, there on the floor, curled up and pathetic. The first spurts of semen came gushing out and smeared his stomach, his thighs, even the tip of Vera’s boot, which she did not bother to move. He kept coming for what felt to him like a full minute, his cock pulsing in time with the pain in his balls, spitting thick seed with every contraction, until a warm puddle gleamed between his bent knees. When it was over, he lay still, almost unconscious, eyes rolled back, mouth open beneath the mask, a thread of spit hanging from his jaw.

Vera slowly stood and broke into a clean laugh. She had to wipe a tear from the corner of her eye. With contempt, she cleaned the stained toe of her boot against the submissive’s back.

—That had never happened to me before —she said to herself—. Occupational hazards.

***

When the submissive came to, he was still sore and disoriented. Vera had sat down in a nearby armchair and was reading a book with her legs crossed, as if none of it mattered in the slightest.

—Awake already? —she asked without looking up—. Good, because we’re not finished yet.

—Ugh… what a kick —he complained, carefully feeling himself—. I think you broke them.

—No, sweetheart —she replied, setting the book aside—. They’re not broken. I’ve had plenty of practice to know exactly how much each man can take.

She came over and slapped his face, knocking him down again. The submissive didn’t even complain. When he saw her sit on the edge of a treatment table and spread her legs, he knew exactly what came next, because he had paid for it weeks in advance. He tilted his head back and smiled beneath the mask. He had spent days preparing to receive her: that morning he had washed out inside himself three times, had rubbed lube over his ass until the hole was soft and open, and even so he knew that thick black cock was going to cost him blood.

—Come on, time’s ticking —said Vera as she made him lift his hips.

She hooked one hand behind each knee and shoved them to his chest, lifting his ass fully, obscenely exposed, the slick little hole shining with lubricant and throbbing in plain sight. Vera spat once on the hole, without the slightest tenderness, and worked the saliva in with her gloved thumb, pushing it in to the knuckle. The submissive gasped and clenched his teeth. She pulled her finger out and replaced it with the head of the cock.

The tip of the rubber cock went in slowly. The man gave a long moan, a sound halfway between a whimper and a plea. She moved forward without hurrying, measuring every inch, watching his face like a surgeon watching a wound. The submissive’s ass was forced open, yielding with a burn that climbed up his spine. He felt the rubber forcing its way inside him, thick, curved, relentless, pushing into something in him that no one had touched in years. When he felt Vera’s hips slam against his buttocks and knew she had taken all of him, he let out a sob of pure relief.

—Let the dance begin —she announced, resting her gloved hands on his chest.

Vera’s hips began to move with a steady, deep, relentless rhythm. She pulled almost all of the cock out and drove it back in with each thrust, all the way, until his battered balls bounced against his belly. The submissive moaned like he had never moaned in his life. It was a feeling he didn’t know how to name: the mistress he had dreamed of for so long was possessing him, fucking him in the ass like some common whore, and he loved it. He took every thrust with a mixture of gratitude and vertigo, feeling his whole body surrender, feeling the hole grow used to the girth and start sucking it in on its own. His cock jerked rigid against his stomach with every blow, and each time she sank to the hilt, something inside him —that secret gland that only appears when someone really gives it to you— shot lashes of pleasure through him that left him shaking.

—More… harder, mistress, please —he begged, voice broken.

—Shut up and take it, bitch —she answered, spitting on him.

Vera increased the pace. Now the sound of her thighs slapping against the submissive’s ass filled the entire room, along with the wet slosh of lubricant and the muffled moans behind the mask. Vera lowered one hand and gripped him between the legs, effortlessly, almost with disdain. She took his swollen balls and squeezed just enough for him to cry out.

—What woman were you going to make happy, huh? —she whispered, squeezing a little harder—. With this shitty cock, who were you going to fuck? Tell me, dog.

—I… I don’t have a woman —he answered through clenched teeth.

—No wonder —she laughed without slowing—. Look at you: you cum from a kick to the balls, you spread your legs like a slut, and you ask me for more. One of these days I ought to leave you only with the pain of a man, so you can learn what you’re worth.

She dug her gloved nails into his chest and left two red grooves while she kept thrusting. The submissive felt his cock grow even harder, impossible, painful, the skin ready to burst. With every thrust of the cock it hit the exact right spot inside his ass and tore another moan from him. Vera was riding him as if he were one of her own pieces of furniture, not looking him in the eyes, biting her lip, focused on her own rhythm, and he felt himself split in half from pure pleasure.

The submissive felt himself on the edge again. He opened his mouth, closed his eyes, and lifted his hips toward her, offering her his ass even wider, panting like an animal. His cock throbbed on its own, rigid, no hand needed, ready to spill everything with the next thrust. Vera noticed it, pulled out abruptly, and yanked the cock free in one motion that left his hole open and pulsing, empty, hungry. He let out a howl of disappointment and his body exploded anyway: the first spurts came uncontrolled, drawing thick white arcs that fell over his chest, his neck, and the black leather of Vera’s corset. A few drops slipped into her cleavage and she looked at them with a grimace of feigned disgust, trapping them with two fingers.

—Pig —she murmured, sucking her fingers with contempt—. You can’t even hold out until I tell you to.

—We’re done —she said, unfastening the harness—. Not bad. You held out longer than most. Congratulations, pup.

—Already? —he asked, struggling upright, ass burning and legs weak—. But… that was short.

—Don’t be sad —she patted his head like a puppy—. Another day we’ll do it again. If you behave.

The man left the place dragging his feet, still in pain, no longer wearing the mask, feeling the semen drying sticky between his legs and the hole still throbbing with every step. At the doorway, she promised she would call him soon for another session.

***

Two weeks passed. Two full weeks in which the submissive forbade himself from touching, a penance he had imposed on himself convinced that the next time would be even more intense. It wasn’t easy. He dreamed of Vera almost every night, of her black cock sinking all the way in, of her boots grinding his balls, and he woke soaked in sweat, sheets stained with semen without having touched himself at all, heart racing. When he finally saw the mistress’s name flashing on the phone screen, he answered before the first ring had ended and left his apartment almost at a run.

He entered the room naked, with the mask on, just as she had ordered. His cock was already half-erect before he even crossed the threshold.

—I’m here, mistress! —he announced.

But Vera was not alone. Beside her stood a young woman, also naked, with blazing red hair and a blindfold covering half her face. She had small, firm tits, with pink, erect nipples, and between her legs a shaved, smooth cunt he could not help looking at. The submissive got hard at once, almost without meaning to, and his cock rose stiff until it touched his belly.

—She is Mistress Daniela —Vera explained, running her fingers through the girl’s red hair—. She’s new to this. She’s come to learn, and you’re going to be her first lesson.

Daniela’s eyes were cold, serious, calculating. When they locked on him, the submissive felt a shiver run down his spine and, for a moment, even his erection faltered. Vera noticed and laughed under her breath.

—She starts —said the mistress—. She needs to practice the kick. Get into position.

—Very well —he obeyed, spreading his legs and crossing his hands behind his back, offering his balls like a man offering his neck to the executioner.

Daniela copied the gesture she had seen her teacher make. She took a run-up and delivered a dry kick to the man’s unprotected crotch, and he dropped hard to the floor screaming. There was not the slightest trace of Vera’s mischievous smile in her; only concentration, like someone driving a stake.

The punishment lasted at least ten minutes. When the submissive could no longer stand, they had to tie his wrists to a ring in the ceiling so he wouldn’t collapse.

—Learn from the rhythm —Vera told her apprentice—. It’s not force, it’s aim.

The mistress showed her how to do it: her blows seemed measured to the millimeter, painful and, at the same time, strangely pleasurable for the man, who hung from the straps moaning, his cock still rigid, red-marked, dripping. Then she gave the turn back to the young woman.

Daniela approached slowly, like a hunter studying her prey before the leap. Her gaze made the submissive swallow behind the mask; something inside him warned him that this woman was not playing. She took a run-up and kicked with a violence that even surprised Vera. The man let out a cry unlike any of the others, one born of fear and not pleasure, and began convulsing while hanging from the straps.

***

He woke hours later, lying on a narrow bed at the back of the place, mouth dry and with a dull pain between his legs.

—Hello —Daniela greeted him, sitting beside him and smiling.

—I remember that… —he began, and, seized by a bad feeling, pulled back the sheet.

Under the bandage there was nothing left but the memory of what had been there. The submissive stared at that spot with wide eyes, unable to process it. He looked for Vera, but the mistress wasn’t there; she had gone off to attend another session and, according to the note they had left her, she would be back later to apologize. The apprentice, the note said, had struck too savagely on her first time.

It took him a while to understand it. This could not be happening to him, it had to be a nightmare he would wake from sweating, like so many others. Then he heard the door. Daniela was still there, standing, wrapped in a robe. She gave him a smile that froze his blood. Slowly, almost coquettishly, she removed the blindfold.

The submissive recognized those eyes. She was the same girl who years earlier, on crowded public transport, used to press herself against him and rub up against him shamelessly in the middle of the crowd. The same one he had never dared look in the face. Now she wore red hair, but the gaze was identical.

—Enjoy the rest of your life thinking about me —she said with a little laugh, before turning and walking away.

And there he stayed, crying silently on the bed, remembering how he had ended up at that point. For being desperate. For being surrendered. For being a dog and a submissive.

***

As I always say: this is pure fiction. And it’s dedicated to a very patient reader.