Five Pt. 04
soppingwetpanties
This is David's story.
He is a submissive male, and provided the essence and inspiration for this work.
This story can be read standalone, though it would be helpful to read the previous installments for additional context.
This story contains watersports and male humiliation.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, merchandise, companies, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
All characters in sexual situations are 18 years or older.
*
It was pitch black outside and winter brought with it the long dark night. David craved the darkness, and loved playing in the shadows, where he could express his inner desires without judgment from others. He had long ago stepped over that invisible demarcation point between the light and the dark, and his life careened out of his control, now subject to the whims of Acadia, a forty-something trainer who exploited his unquenchable thirst for submission.
In fact it was David's submissiveness that ended his marriage that spanned more than two decades. His wife was incapable of understanding his sexual desires, and was more focused on the approval of her friends than the needs of her submissive husband. Of course it would be unfair to load the blame entirely on David's ex. David retreated into his shell the last few years of their failed marriage, and that decision eliminated any chance of salvaging their relationship.
Now an older man in his fifties, he had the usual thinning hair and carried his extra weight around his middle. He lived alone in an austere corporate apartment and was stuck in a dead end job. His salvation was Acadia. Her mind games and perverse sense of humor brought color and life into David's drab existence. It also brought about an acute sense of anxiety, as Acadia rarely signaled her intentions, leaving David often confused and humiliated.
An Uber just dropped him off in front of his corporate apartment ... a building as nondescript as he was. The streetlights were on, and he avoided their patches of brightness as he turned up the collar of his winter coat, seeking the comfort of the apartment building's heated lobby.
As he trudged uphill on the badly cracked sidewalk to the glass lobby doors he shook his head, not quite believing the "business trip" to his employer's headquarters in Cleveland. It should have been a routine visit, one that he had done many times before. But this trip was much different. Instead of being filled with endless inane power point presentations and bad coffee, it was filled with acts of deviant sex and risks no sane person would take. A shiver went up his spine when he replayed in his mind getting fucked in the ass by Danielle Mandrake, the company's HR director, in a stall in the ladies executive washroom, and being "forced" to give oral sex to a comely receptionist while supposedly retrieving a box of copy paper from the supply room. Incidents like those, and there were more, made his trip anything but routine.
Despite the added angst in his life, he judged the changes to be for the better. Acadia had rescued him from death by boredom. She saw something in his eyes when she caught him spying on her when she was disciplining one of her trainees. She saw all of it in that instant -- the sadness, the loneliness and above all the unquenchable need. She knew she was about to lose one of her subs, so his timing couldn't have been better. She had never before taken in an older man.
Acadia trained him as she promised. He learned to forget his usual male behaviors and to think about others first. Of course there were plenty of slip-ups ... and David suffered the lash of her flogger more times than he could count. He even came to appreciate the punishment and humiliation she meted out. It served as a prelude to a level of sexual gratification that was beyond words, only inner smiles.
He was a better person for it. He was more attuned to the needs of others, no matter how depraved those needs would be. Becoming to know his true self helped him became more confident. Without his training, he doubted he would have been able to hold his wits together when he was put in impossible situations and the ability to press on after abject public humiliation.
A gust of warm air interrupted his musings. He walked into the lobby standing a bit straighter than normal. His first stop was to check the mail, so he went inside an alcove that held a bank of mail boxes. He was prepared for a box stuffed full of junk mail and maybe a letter from his ex-wife with her monthly request to increase her alimony payment. He saw the back of a woman he recognized as Randy Johansson, the girl in 8C, in the apartment next to his. Her long, silky blonde hair, pulled back into a pony tail, was unmistakable. She was reading a letter when David came up behind her.
"Oh shit ... you scared me!" she exclaimed, startled by his presence.
She was as stunning as David remembered her. Natural light blonde hair, the face of a fashion model, hot pink lipstick, and brilliant Artic blue eyes. He ignored Acadia's training not to treat women as sex objects and studied her body in a split second. Long thin arms, breasts that belonged on a larger woman, just enough curve in her hips to be sexy without being cheap, and shaped and toned legs on open toed red candies with four inch heels.
It was a small confined space, so there was really no place to go other than to back out. She recovered quickly from her surprise and locked the door of her mailbox. Instead of trying to get past him, she stopped to speak to him. He was the one who was now surprised. He had probably seen her a dozen times and was certain he was a ghost. He only knew her full name because he looked at a piece of her junk mail that she tossed into the trash container. He had masturbated to her mental image. Now she was talking to him.
"So David ... David Elliott is it?"
David was absolutely stunned that she not only talked to him, but knew his full name. This was Randy. The unapproachable Goddess. She was probably in her late 20's, probably in some sort of sales position like he was. But she was young and beautiful, and someone like her would be promoted over him in no time flat. She already carried herself as if she was his boss. He couldn't help but stare at her perfect tits, their perfectly rounded shape hugged by her faded and torn powder blue "UCLA" t-shirt. Fuck, the Nordic Princess was talking to him.
The old David would have stuttered some unintelligible answer and stared at his shoes. The new David became rightfully suspicious. His trainer Acadia had already demonstrated that she was willing to recruit women from his vanilla world to use him as a sex toy. She just did it with his direct supervisor at work. Ordinarily, Randy would never give him the time of day, let alone know his name and start a conversation. He decided to play along, knowing that Acadia was in some way behind this unexpected interaction.
"Why yes, that's me. It's good to meet you ..." David said, pausing as if he didn't know her name. He patted himself on the back for remembering to feign ignorance of her name. After all, they had never been introduced.
"Oh ... sorry ... my name is Randy ... Randy Johansson.
"Well ... Randy Johansson, it's good to meet you."
David had difficulty focusing on the conversation when his eyes were fixed to her breasts. Randy waited until he made eye contact.
"Well ... Mr. Elliott ... I was having a few friends over tomorrow ... and I thought, you know, trying to be neighborly and all, that you'd like to have a few drinks with me and my girlfriends tomorrow night."
Now he knew Acadia was behind this. Hell would freeze over before Randy would invite him over to "have a few drinks" with her likely gorgeous girlfriends. He was sure she would confirm that her friends worked at the same modelling agency or something ridiculous like that. This was a trap that Acadia built and that he would willingly fall into.
"Why sure ... I think I'm free tomorrow (he of course was free every night) so ... what time?"
