How I Train My Sub to Please Me
Miss Mara reads an erotica piece about a Mistress guiding her sub.
The Making of a Sub
Dusk has always been my favourite time of day; the last blink of the sky before it leaves me to the moon’s devices.
Now, it is time. I twirl the tulle hem of my silk cape, brush it against my skin, and guide it down my thighs to the ground around eight-inch pleaser heels.
Poppet likes pleaser heels.
I buzz Poppet in, while I look up and down the road to make sure he’s alone. It is there that I transform into Mistress Zelight and open the door.
It took some doing, a fair bit of discipline, but now Poppet greets me from his proper place—on his knees, in my hallway, pants pulled down to his ankles for any passerby to see his pasty legs shaking with anticipation.
The Price of a Willing Submissive
I relieve him of his burden as he hands me my usual rate. The green paper feels like satisfaction under my manicured fingers.
As a thank you, I double-click my heel, a command he knows well.
Poppet is a 50-year-old cum slut, eager to take all that Mistress Zelight cares to give.
From the sky-bound tips of her hair down to the razors of her cheekbones, which complement the roundness of her nose in a facial melody often referred to as “divine”.
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When My Sub Knows His Place
When we reach the den, he pants expectantly for a glimpse of something more than the silhouette of my ass and the ample bush between my thighs. I start the timer: 60 minutes to make him useful.
“Poppet,” I grin, “your day just got a whole lot better.”
“Yes, Mist—” My heel is pressed to his lips in an instant, a reflex to his insubordination.
“Six months and you still haven’t learned.” Slowly, the leg comes back to the ground, as Poppet whimpers apologetically.
Correcting a Disobedient Sub
“You may correct yourself.”
He almost opens his mouth, and Mistress Zelight is ready to snatch his tongue out if he does.
Fortunately for him, self-preservation prevails. I extend the endless length of my right leg toward him. He knows what to do.
Poppet bends forward on his hands and begins with the laces, pulling them with his teeth one by one, undoing them with frustrated grunts, itching to use his hands just to get there faster. But watching his frustration, his ass jiggling in the air as he trembles with the need for release, is half the fun.
Finally, success. He licks the top of my foot and shudders. “Don’t you dare cum,” I warn, with no compassion for his tortured state.
He apologizes with steady, gentle kisses around my calves, taut while I balance effortlessly on my high heels.
A less experienced Mistress Zelight would have swayed just a bit at the eager pressure of his lips climbing up her legs.
Bringing a Grown Man Under Subjection
I swing my leg up and around his neck in one graceful glide and squeeze hard. A less experienced Mistress Zelight could not so easily have brought him under subjection.
He looks up at me—terrified, breathless, exhilarated.
“You know better than to even look at my pussy without permission. You thought I wouldn’t notice your eyes drifting.”
I pat my pussy hair, chuckling softly as it bounces back. “I suppose you’re hungry. Aren’t you, Poppet?”
I grab his wispy hair; he winces but makes no sound.
“You may answer.”
“Yes, Mistress,” comes his pitchy reply.
“If you show me your use, I’ll give you a single taste. One lick.”
He grunts. It suffices.
“Bring me Purple Rain.”
Poppet whimpers. His arousal hangs between his legs, knowing this task will not be easy, but is oh-so-worth it.
He skitters across the wooden floor, knees squeaking with every move. He flinches each time his skin rubs against the wooden floorboards and his dick squeezes between his thighs.
“Good Poppet.” I smile at the success of my training when he returns. “You may put those hands to work.”
Putting My Sub to Proper Use
He holds Purple Rain up for inspection. It's matte silicone spills out of his hands. The purple rabbit vibrator is a personal favourite, and Poppet wields it rather well.
I perch on the back of the sofa and stretch out catlike along the edge. My robe and breasts part to either side, the only thing that jiggles as I balance on my perch.
“What do you want to do with that, Poppet?” I turn effortlessly to face him, and his awestruck expression tickles something deep inside me. Oh, how the tables turn.
Poppet smiles, eager to answer.
“You may tell me.”
“I want to make you cum, Mistress.”
“And?”
“I want to taste your juices when you cum, Mistress.”
“Then let’s see how you do.”
Poppet parts my bush with the rabbit’s rounded tip. The cold silicone makes me shiver, but not fall. “You’re missing something, Poppet.”
I grab his hair and pull him forward, making me the only thing holding him off the ground. A squeal escapes his lips; delight or terror, I’m not sure.
Confident he is aware of his error, I let him go, and he falls with a thud. Poppet scrambles back up to his knees and reaches for the lube with trembling hands. His liberal application warms up Purple Rain. The vibrator starts up, and I let myself feel the throbbing against my pelvis, as it burrows carefully in search of my labia… then, ever so gently, brushing my clit. I shudder, something akin to a twitch. I am careful not to give too much too soon.
“Am I pleasing you, Mistress?”
“Shut up and keep… going.”
Another shudder runs down my spine. It is a competition, I suppose.
The Privilege of Being a Submissive
He serves the ultimate good, which is my pleasure. There’s a tacit understanding that he wishes to be special, to differentiate himself from the dozens of regulars. He knows the way to do that is to make me cum so hard I fall off my perch. No one has done it yet, for the record.
The sensation of the rabbit on my clit sends a tingle through my stomach, up my chest, and out of my open mouth. Damn, he gets better every time.
Best of all, he works in silence, making it easy to reduce his presence to a mere incident. That is the treat for him: the privilege of existing only for my pleasure.
I feel the heat as it builds between my thighs. Poppet sweats and pants, his hands aching and knees burning, and I haven’t even broken a sweat.
But the best thing of all? When I remember, I’m being paid for the use of my personal sex toy.
The Reward
My body shakes from head to toe, and I let myself scream.
“Fuck!” My hands go over the arm of the sofa, body stretched except for an arching back. I might keep this one, I muse languidly… Then I remember, he awaits his final command.
“Put that tip in your mouth, and my tip on the table. Then leave.”
