This is a true story from my ongoing affair with an older man. At the time I was 18 and Mr. Andrews was 41.
After serving him and a strange woman I was hurt, angry and confused. He sat there with her, right in front of my face and treated me as just a server, any server. He called me by name and ordered drinks for himself and his date and never gave me any other acknowledgement.
I remained composed and professional but my insides were flipping and churning and my mind was in turmoil. It took all of my mental strength to serve their drinks as though nothing was amiss when all I wanted to do was fling them in his face. When his table was called he told me to add them to his meal check and walked out without so much as a glance, all his charm and attention on her. I worked the rest of my shift feeling sick and humiliated. I left the first instant I could, went home and straight to bed where I cried tears of rage and frustration until I fell asleep. I didn't hear from him again for four days.
When he finally did call, I walked over to his house. I sat down without undressing first, a house rule from early on, and asked him just what he thought he was doing, and why did he do it in front of me. Why did he want to hurt me. I told him I was very angry and hurt. For the first time ever I called him by his first name and told him never to do that to me again; in fact, I shouted it at him.
He was furious. He demanded I strip and kneel in front of him. I was utterly flabbergasted! "What?!" I exclaimed.
"I said, take your fucking clothes off and kneel in front of me!" In a confused rage, thinking I would go mad, I instinctively obeyed such a forceful command, stripped, threw my clothes to the floor and knelt down in front of him. "Now here's how it is. You can do anything you want or you can do as you're told. You just can't do both and stay here. And furthermore, my name is Mr. Andrews, not _____. Got it?"
"Yes Mr. Andrews," I said and started to cry. "I just don't know why you would want to hurt me like that! Didn't you know that would hurt me? Then you don't call for so long. What am I supposed to do, or think for that matter?"
"Would you rather I sneak around and not tell you I'm seeing someone else? Do you think you control me and I should be afraid of you? Do you think I should have to ask you if I want to see someone else? Just what do you think this is we're doing, you and I? We agreed that we weren't going to clutter this up with words of love or make commitments and chance ruining a good thing. You said it! You said you liked things just the way they are and wouldn't ever do a thing to spoil it; well, didn't you?"
I was really bawling now. "Yes," I peeped. "Yes I did but I just don't understand. Do you mean I can see other people too?"
"Yes; it does mean you can see other people. You just can't if you want to be with me though."
"THAT'S NOT FAIR!"
"No, it isn't. So, you need to decide. You can do as you please, but if you want to be with me you'll do as I say or no deal. And if I want to see another woman, I will. Are we clear?"
I was in complete turmoil and I was now blubbering out of control. I knew I should tell him to fuck off, get dressed and run for the hills but I couldn't fathom not seeing him again. I didn't want to see anybody else but this was new and awful and shameful and just HUMILIATING! "Did you have sex with her?" I asked, dreading.
"Yes I did," he replied calmly.
"Are you planning on doing it again?" I could barely form the words through my blubbering.
"If it pleases me, yes," he said, "but, I have no plans to see her again anytime soon."
"What do you want from me then?"
"I want what I've always had, what you've always been. My Babygirl. You're always obedient and you like to do as you're told. As a matter of fact you like being told what to do. Now I'm going to punish you for being so rude to me."
"Do you want me to suck your cock?" I asked, tears rolling fast down my face.
"Do you consider sucking my cock a privilege?" he asked.
"Yes I doOoo," I replied through my sobs.
"Are you going to do as I say?"
"Yes Mr. Andrews," I said looking at the floor.
"Then kneel up straight and cross your wrists behind your back." I did as I was told. He stepped back, undid his pants, pulled out his cock and rubbed it till it was nice and hard then he said, "hold still and keep your mouth shut." He then grabbed a fist full of my hair none to gently and jerked off in my face. He mustn't have cum for a while because his load was huge. I felt the impact as it hit me just above my upper lip and splattered all over my face, then slowly dripped off onto my tits and slid down my belly. There was so much of it that it trickled down to my pussy, formed a drop which I felt drip on the floor. When he was done he wiped his dick and hand off with my hair. "Now, stay there and don't move until I tell you to." And with that he pulled up his fly and walked out of the room.
I licked his cum off my lips and was instantly mad at myself for doing it. As my mind contorted I knew the best and easiest thing to do was to not move and do as I was told. A thousand thoughts erupted in my mind making my confusion all the more gut wrenching. Needing to make some sense of this, I started by separating my feelings. Anger for sure, humiliation was just too inadequate a word for this, shame for tasting his cum and savoring it if nothing else but also for submitting to this horrific disrespect of me, real fear that our affair was ending, and strangely, guilt.
Guilt for what! Certainly not for sticking up for myself and confronting him. No, it was guilt for disrespecting myself, for not telling him to go fuck himself and storming out. Guilt for submitting to this atrocity. Then guilt for tasting his cum. No, for wanting the taste of it when it should taste like hate. But it didn't. It tasted of him and then more guilt because I have in the past, asked permission and even begged to be allowed to suck him off, wanting that cum., even licking it off the floor.
Then overwhelming disgust. Disgust for myself for so many things. Disgust for this submission. Not for being submissive but for submitting to this. Then in total confusion, a flash of guilt again because this submission was arousing me. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! I could feel myself getting wet. How could this be?! But, since meeting him, submission is one of my biggest turn-ons, and this is submission on a never before conceived level. But it's disgraceful, and here I am obeying.
Obedience. Yes, I like to be obedient and that turns me on too. With that thought I became wetter, then guilty again for my arousal and once more, the feeling of a new level of intensity. Obedience over self. Yes, and I feel guilt for that, but why? I've always offered myself for him to use at his pleasure and got off on that too, so why is this so shameful?
Because it was! Shame. Deep, base, shame. Not an emotion I'm used to feeling, not an emotion that's my friend. No shame in sticking up for myself! Another woman! How dare he! But here I am with cum dripping off my face because I dared to speak out. I should just leave.
RAGE. Anger, burning anger. I almost moved; erupting jarring anger! Still, I stayed in place. Anger at him, angry at me, angry at the indignity. I should just leave. But what then? Play this out and see. A flash of rage again. Calm down.
Submission. Submitting to myself now; does it get lower than this? Am I low? NO! I am many good things and I have dignity, deserved dignity! I should just leave.
Then suddenly a great wave of resignation. Yes I'm resigned to this or I'd have gone by now. So shut up and deal with it. He's doing this and I'm taking it: yes, or I'd be gone by now. And I'm staying and he's won. But why did he do this; this, this gesture to me. Because by not taking my clothes off when I came in, by using his first name and shouting at him, I was, in my way, spitting in his face. So in his way he spat in mine. And in doing so, he has shown me that I will do as I'm told. He's a grown mature man with genuine authority and power over me and I'm nothing but a silly young girl. Just a dirty little fuck toy.
And so I fought with myself always returning to submission. Around and around and around my thoughts and emotions whirled until I was dizzy with it. And I was getting tired too. The cum was drying on my face, tits and belly. My legs and back began to ache as I fell deeper into my submission and shame.
But I was being so obedient and I began to get wet again. The aches turned to real pain but I did not move. The pain drove my feelings of obedience and submission, my submission electrifying my arousal. I don't like pain, I avoid it at all cost but here I was, in pain, self inflicted pain, his inflicted pain. I soon realized I was liking this pain and wanted it. The more it hurt the more I was submitting and the more I submitted the wetter I got. I was being more obedient than I'd ever been, ever imagined I could be, now reaching an even higher level, having never even imagined this kind of obedience even existed.
I fell into something of a trance. I discovered a place in my mind that I didn't even knew existed, and I liked it there. I was so aroused I felt an orgasm building, then ebb only to rise again. I concentrated harder, lost in the feeling, wanting to cum. I rode for time unknown on the razors edge of hitting the point of no return, of almost having an orgasm, when through my haze I distantly became aware of him.
Coming out of the fog, I saw him. My eyes weren't shut and I realized I just wasn't seeing out of them, which was how I missed his approach. I looked up at him and felt that I was so wet, it was flowing out of me. The smell of my musk was heavy in the room. I must have been pouring for a long time. I hurt so bad and I needed relief. No longer in my haze I began to tremble out of control and wavered. He reached down and gently lowered me to the floor and began to rub my aching legs and arms. They felt like needles, especially my feet as the blood flowed back to them. My knees were on fire! He lifted me like a rag doll, my head lolling and laid me on his bed.
With incredible care he massaged me and nurtured my hurts. With warm, rose scented water he bathed me. As the pain began to subside, I felt his lips touch mine in a tender emotional kiss, then he went down on me. It was the most delicious release I've ever experienced. I grabbed his head, arched my back and had such a satisfying orgasm. The ordeal was over and I was completely exhausted. In his embrace I fell into a deep, peaceful sleep.
To the reader: I understand if my behavior is disgusting to you. I don't know to where in my mind I descended but it was a comfortable place or at least a safe place to escape. I'm very open to opinions especially from anyone who has had a similar experience.