Attitude Adjustment

When my boyfriend told me he wanted to visit a dominatrix, my first instinct was to assume that I wasn’t doing a good enough job of ordering him about at home. I immediately felt horrible for thinking like that, but if we were both completely honest with each other, it was true; the chances are he would never get anything done if I wasn’t around to give him a kick up the… well, you know. I was ambitious, career-motivated, and he may have been many wonderful things but he wasn’t that, bless him. So we had this de facto arrangement where I had to make nearly all the important decisions at home as well as at work, and trying to do everything was beginning to drain me.
Maybe he wanted to make it more formal, maybe he really wanted to be my… my servant? My slave? I giggled at the thought of that, and reflected that I was the only slave around here at the moment with all the responsibilities I had. If I could make him a little more useful around the house, where was the harm in it? He quickly assured me that these women didn’t offer any kind of sexual favours, that they catered strictly to the fantasies of their client – strictly was the operative word, I guess – and so I gave him my blessing.
We looked up sites together online and found a domme who worked in a place in the centre of town, only about half an hour’s drive from our home. The price was affordable too, on our income; well, largely my salary. Suddenly what seemed like an idle fantasy for him was now actually possible, and I could sense the nerves on his part. He hemmed and hawed over whether he should go through with it or not, until finally I told him that he should at least explore his feelings about it and see where they lead him. The thought of what might happen to him there certainly made me curious, and turned me on a little, but inside I was still thinking about what I could get out of it rather than what the sexual dimension would really be like.
I left him to make contact and sort out all the details with her, all the kinks that people want to explore in their sessions; he wanted to keep them private for the time being and I didn’t mind that. The following Tuesday I went off to work as usual knowing that in the middle of the day he’d be in a darkened chamber being worked over by a woman. It was really hard to concentrate on my job that afternoon.
When I got back around six, he was already sitting on the couch looking quite relaxed. I gave him a kiss and asked, “So, how did it go?”
“Oh, it was… OK,” he said phlegmatically, crossing his legs.
“OK?” He wasn’t the type of guy to make grand statements, but I thought he’d feel more strongly about it one way or the other.
“Well, it was enjoyable up to a point, but I couldn’t take it all seriously – I mean, the experience is a turn-on, but I don’t know whether I really believed everything she was saying. I kind of wished you were there towards the end.”
“What was she like?” I queried, wondering what sort of things she had done to him.
“She was good at what she did. Very firm. Controlling. Your kind of woman all right,” he grinned at me, and I felt like hitting him for the controlling comment until I saw he was half-joking. He was right, of course, but it’s funny how the things we enjoy doing don’t seem attractive when they’re pointed out to us.
“I’d like to see what she did for myself…” I wondered aloud; he heard me.
“Well, there’s only one way you can do that. Book a session yourself.”
“Oh Stuart, don’t be ridiculous,” I replied instantly. “They don’t do that kind of thing for women… do they?”
“As far as I know, she’s an equal opportunity-dominant,” Stuart said in a breezy tone. “The female customers are a lot rarer, but she told me she gets a few in every now and then. She said she likes working with them just as much.”
Why on earth would a woman want to do it?, I pondered. I could understand the role-reversal being an arousing thing for men, and that they liked the sight of a woman in leather and high heels, but unless all her female clients were lesbian, or at least lesbian-inclined, surely they’d just go to the male equivalent instead? I knew they existed from what me and Stuart had read about on the net.
“I wouldn’t want to be part of a session, anyway,” I assured him. “Maybe if I could be there and watch how she handles other people, but I guess that’s not possible…”
“Not unless you fancy training as one yourself.”
“Those boots would be hell on my feet,” I quipped, and headed into the kitchen to make some coffee. We had a nice relaxing evening in front of the TV, both of us doing nothing when we probably had something better to keep us occupied. But the only thing occupying my thoughts, time and time again, was the possibility of seeing that dominatrix in the flesh… of actually being close to her as she did her job… and the only way to do that was if I allowed myself to be the one who was dominated.
Finally I made a decision, and cuddled up closer to Stuart. “I’m going to do it, you know,” I whispered to him.
“Do what?”
“Book a session with her.” His eyes widened slightly, and he looked away. “What, you don’t think I can do it?”
“No slight against you Ellie, but I can’t really imagine you being ordered around by anyone, man or woman.” He seemed amused, which annoyed me. More than that, it challenged me, and I wasn’t one to back down from a challenge.
“Well, I’m going to do it,” I repeated. “There are safe words you can use at any time if you start to feel uncomfortable, aren’t there?”
“Yep.” Stuart was staring ahead into the middle distance, a slightly glazed expression on his face, and I knew him well enough to interpret that.
“You’re going to jerk off thinking about this, aren’t you?”
“Well maybe. That is to say… I mean, you can’t blame me,” he finished, with an apologetic look that suggested I could. I smiled, put my arms around his neck and kissed him.
“Just make sure you leave some in there for me, OK?”
I went online, found the same site and put in my own application. Her name was Linda, and from the photos available she was certainly a striking woman, with flowing chestnut hair, green eyes, a pale complexion and a very curvy figure. She had such a sassy, confident attitude that projected itself in her photos, and I hoped that Stuart saw a little bit of the same attitude in me when he was first attracted to me. I think he did.
When it came time to fill out the details of what I was looking for, I made the first of several really dumb mistakes which showed how naïve I was about the whole process. There was an option for an introductory service for novices, which was a much gentler exploration of D/S practices that would have been perfect for me. I was certainly a novice, I wasn’t even sure whether I really wanted to do this, but I guess my curiosity got the better of me… so I took a slight leap in the dark when I agreed to being restrained, and verbally dominated. The kind of error that only a sceptic like me would make.
I got a day off work specially for this, but started to feel the same nerves that Stuart had and understood exactly why he’d been so hesitant. What if I made a complete fool of myself? I was reassured, though, by the fact that I was another woman – she’d be a little bit easier on me, I was sure, and would understand what I felt. My application certainly got a prompt reply, I must have stood out from the scores of men whom she dealt with on a regular basis. We exchanged a few nice, friendly emails finalising exactly what time I should come, and then all was settled. Friday, 1.30pm.
My stomach was churning as I drove into town, finding the area where she did business. It was a quiet street, and the address she had given me was a normal-looking house, giving no clue as to what lay within. I arrived several minutes early, the conscientious hard worker in me showing again, and spent my time sitting in the car twiddling my thumbs and allowing my anxieties to build again. Then I abruptly got out of the car, locked the door, and prepared to face the challenge head-on.
I went down a small flight of steps to a door set below street level, and rang the bell. After a few moments it was opened by a figure with the same chestnut hair and piercing green eyes I’d seen in the photos, only she was dressed in a sweater and jeans and she was a little shorter than me – we were both above average height, but she certainly didn’t adopt any of the overpowering poses that you saw on her site. The two images were hard to reconcile at first.
She smiled and held out a welcoming hand, which I shook. “Ellie, I presume?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“I’m Linda. Please come in.” She led me down a carpeted, well-decorated hallway into a kitchen, where she beckoned me to sit down at a table. She sat opposite me and went through the things that I had agreed to, which was another chance for me to backtrack and go for something softer which I didn’t take. In a funny way I didn’t want to disappoint her, since she was such a nice lady and she seemed excited at the prospect of doing these activities with me.
“You’ve done something like this before?” she asked me.
“A little bit,” I lied. “Actually, my boyfriend Stuart was here just a couple of weeks ago, so I thought I’d give it a try.”
Her face lit up in recognition. “Oh yes, I thought I recognised the email address! He… didn’t mind telling you about it, then?”
“No, no.”
“Just so that’s clear. Well, he was an interesting client, but I don’t think it worked out in the end, not his fault really. I hope I’ll get a little more out of you,” she smiled.
Don’t count on it, I thought to myself, but the attention she was paying to me felt flattering. “How do you feel about pain?” she inquired, catching me unawares.
“I like a little bit,” I said awkwardly, which was true. It was fun having my hair pulled or my ass pinched now and then in bed with Stuart, but it happened rarely and I didn’t get any real kick out of it. I didn’t think I was in too much danger if I said I liked it, and I could always stop if it got out of hand. We agreed on a safe word together before we went any further.
“OK, well, I think we’re just about ready,” Linda announced. “I’m going to get changed upstairs, which is back the way we came. My chambers are through there,” she said, pointing towards a door on the far side of the room. “It’s a short flight of stairs leading down into them. When I go, I want you to strip down to your underwear, and go stand in the middle of the chamber waiting for me.”
She must have seen the fear that broke out on my face, as she was quick to reassure me. “Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you, you won’t have to do anything against your will. Enjoy yourself.” With another smile she stood up and left. Now alone, I had to prepare myself swiftly. I only had on a pair of plain white bra and panties, nothing fancy. Should I have worn some really sexy, elaborate lingerie to impress her? No, best to leave the dressing up to the dominatrix, I figured.
I slipped off my shoes, took off my top and then undid my jeans, really wishing that I felt sexy instead of stupid. I didn’t want to have the usual hang-ups about my body that were seemingly compulsory for women my age, but I thought I was too tall and gangly, no matter how many times Stuart told me I had nothing to worry about. I knew I wasn’t stick thin, but by the same token, I wasn’t curvy either. I wasn’t voluptuous.
When I stepped out of my jeans I felt the hairs on my skin stiffen in the cool air, and walked uncertainly over to the door, glad that there was no mirror for me to see myself. The staircase on the other side was lined by black walls, leading down into a very dimly-lit room. I tiptoed cautiously down it, my bare feet treading on the boards, and found myself in the windowless chamber, the walls black on every side. At the far end there was a wide mirror on the wall in which I could see myself, and a rather pale, feeble sight I was too; everything about me was pallid apart from my long dark hair.
As I got closer I could see some bars and chains fixed to the wall beside the mirror which made me rather concerned. I guess I would have to see how they would be used… how I would be used. A shiver ran through me that had nothing to do with the cold; actually, it was a very well-heated room. I stood there in the center as instructed, staring straight ahead, hardly daring to move, long enough for me to start thinking that I had made a terrible mistake.
Then I heard the first imposing footfall. Spiked heel on wooden floor. Then another one, and another, until the clicking rhythm began to grow louder as the footsteps drew nearer. If it was meant to intimidate men, then it certainly worked on me too. I carried on staring ahead, looking into the mirror, until I saw a female shape moving faintly in the shadows.
When Linda emerged, it was the same woman whose authoritative stare stood out so vividly in her site photos, only now she was real, she was just a few feet away from me and getting closer. She was dressed in black knee-high leather boots that easily made her taller than me, and a tight leather basque tied down the front that absolutely clung to her body, emphasising every curve. She had the figure of a mature woman, but she looked so strong in this outfit, her creamy white thighs powerful and well-defined, her breasts jutting outwards. And on her face she wore a cool, sadistic smile that couldn’t have been more different from the warm, friendly one she’d offered me on the other side of that door.
In her hand she carried a cane which she rubbed against her other gloved palm, and it was the light touch of that cane on my rib that I felt first of all, followed by her delicate, probing hands as she walked around me in a circle, inspecting what she’d been presented with. They were velvet gloves, and the feeling on my skin was exquisite. But what happened next was another terrible miscalculation on my part.
“So, you’re the girl I have to work with today,” Linda said softly. “The girl who needs disciplining. I can see that’s what you need.” There was nothing wrong with what she said, it was the kind of thing I’d expected, but for that very reason it felt so rehearsed and contrived. No wonder Stuart had found the whole experience under whelming. I let out a snide little giggle.
“Is there something funny about what I said?” she asked coldly, still holding her cane imperiously in her hand.
“No, no… it’s just that… well, it’s all a bit silly, isn’t it?” I ventured, seemingly determined to ruin the atmosphere she was trying to generate. I had no business being there in the first place if I wasn’t going to bother, but now that I could see what it was all about it did seem a little… silly, and I told her as much, digging myself a bigger hole in the process. “I mean, you can get men to bow down before you by wearing these outfits, but it’s all a bit of an act in the end, isn’t it?”
Linda regarded me with a sassy, pouting face, tapping her cane against her thigh, to me confirming everything that I’d just said. She looked like a man-fantasy caricature. I thought for a moment that she was just going to stay like that permanently. Then, with a polite cough down at the floor, she took one step forward and looked me square in the face.
“Where the fuck does a little bitch like you get off speaking to me like that?”
I was struck dumb by the force of her words and the intensity on her face, and that moment of hesitancy was all she needed to take control of me. “Get down on your fucking knees now, and stay there,” she hissed. “On your knees!” It was as though I’d been slapped; I obeyed at once, and as I felt the cold wooden floorboards on my legs, the only idiotic thought that ran through my mind was, This wasn’t supposed to happen.
Linda knelt down beside me, grabbed me by the shoulders and flung me forwards until I was lying down flat, my face pressed against the floor; I had only just recovered from the shock when I felt her breath on my ear and her head was right there beside me. “We’re going to have to teach you some manners, aren’t we?” she said in a haughty voice.
“I… I’m sorry…” I tried to say, but she was having none of it.
“Oh sure, someone makes you shut that big running mouth of yours and now you’re sorry. Somehow I doubt that. You will be sorry in due course, I promise you that, but it’s going to take some time. And some effort on your part.” She was in a rage that I really couldn’t tell was real or manufactured; maybe a more experienced person would have been able to tell.
Linda grabbed a handful of my hair and tugged at it, enough to make me wince. “How can you begin to be sorry when you can’t even address me properly?”
“I’m sorry, mistress,” I murmured unconvincingly.
She shook her head dismissively. “Try again,” she said, with another tug at my hair. “I do have a name, you know.”
“I’m sorry, Mistress Linda.”
“Good. You can simply call me Mistress from now on, but I’m glad you remembered my name. Your name is whatever I decide it is, and nothing complimentary comes to mind at the moment.” She started to run her hands along my body, displaying a tenderness that was completely at odds with what she’d just said. I shuddered, and my breathing quickened, as she rubbed down the small of my back and brushed her fingers over the waistband of my panties, massaging my hips.
“You have a very nice figure, you know. Very nice indeed. Your skin is lovely and soft. Don’t you think?” Her hand squeezed the back of my neck. “Don’t you agree?”
“Yes, Mistress,” I gasped in fear.
She leaned towards my ear once again. “It’s a pity it’s going to have to undergo some punishment, then,” she said in a gleeful whisper.
Before I knew what was happening my bra was undone and being ripped off my shoulders, and a moment later my panties were around my ankles and then off. Squealing, I put my arms over my chest and tried to fold myself up into a protective ball, my private parts hidden from sight. Linda grabbed me by the elbows and pinned my arms behind my back as I lay on my side flailing helplessly, then straddled me and pushed my knees down with her right leg so that I was completely exposed to her. “My, you are a difficult one, aren’t you?” she said as though I were a teething child.
She stood up, hauling me to my feet in front of her. With my arms still locked in her vice-like grip, she shuffled me over to the far wall, where she grabbed a pair of handcuffs from a small shelf. Seconds later they were snapped securely around my wrists and my arms were held in position; no chance of me escaping. “There, that’s better,” Linda announced happily. She walked me across to face the mirror, and pressed her face against my shoulder as I saw my reflection. “Yep, I’m no fashion designer but that’s basically the look I was aiming for,” she beamed.
“Now, back on your knees,” she said firmly, forcing me to the floor once again. “Put your head forward,” she instructed me, and I obediently bent forward until my head was almost touching the floor and my ass was stuck up in the air. I should have realised what position I was being put into and for what purpose, but my mind was too intoxicated with the thought of what was being done to me.
“Punishing a girl like you is a difficult business; I think I’m going to need some help. Very strong help.” Linda stood up. “Now I’m going to have to leave you for a few minutes. You can move around if you want while I’m gone, but just bear in mind that if I find you an inch out of position when I come back, I’m going to be forced to think of another punishment for you on the spot. And you know honey, out of desperation comes true creativity.” I couldn’t even bear to think about what that meant. I stayed put.
Linda swept out of the room with eager haste, and I had plenty of time to crouch there contemplating both my reflection and my stupidity. Nope, I guess she wasn’t just a good actress. She meant what she said. I’d been given a good demonstration, now I had it in my power to end things right here. But what if I chose not to? Then it would simply go on, until… I had no idea what would happen next. That was what kept me knelt in compliance.
“Hello again, slut-girl!” Linda’s voice boomed out, with the cheerful tone of a bossy girl guide. “I’ve brought someone in to meet you.” Suddenly a real jolt of alarm ran through me, and an experience that I was starting to enjoy took on a whole new light. I watched the mirror intently, not daring to move from my commanded position, and my mouth opened in horror as I saw a man step from the darkness and approach. I would have tried to work out what kind of man he was from his clothes, if he’d been wearing any. And now I knew why I was pinned invitingly onto the floor right in front of this full-length mirror.
“This is one of my full-time slaves,” Linda explained helpfully, running her hands freely over the man’s impressively muscled torso. “He’s a very good slave, and respects me completely, something you clearly don’t.”
“Please… please, don’t,” I begged her from the floor. “I can’t do something like this… I can’t.” I tried to rise, but Linda instantly knelt and pushed me down again. Panic started to flood through me as I saw the man position himself directly behind me, his legs either side of me.
“You thought that men were the only people who I could control, the only people fooled by this ‘act’,” she reminded me scathingly. She shuffled over to kneel in front of me and cupped my chin in her hands. “Well you know sweetheart, that’s the attitude of an insolent bitch. And an insolent bitch is never, ever going to get an easy ride from me.” She looked up at the man with relish. “Go ahead, you have my permission to do what you want with her. And please, enjoy yourself. She’s not going anywhere.”
My heart pounded uncontrollably as he knelt down behind me, and there came a few breathless seconds when I thought he wouldn’t go through with it, that I would be released, that someone would say it was all a joke or a dream, anything. Then reality hit me as my pussy was prised open and his warm, wet cock slid inside. A long drawn-out moan escaped from my lips as my vaginal walls were stretched wide to accommodate him, my mind filled with the horrifying realisation that I had a complete stranger’s dick inside me. I could hardly believe that one smart-alecky comment had earned me this, that I was going to become the slut Linda had ridiculed me as.
As if she’d read my mind, she suddenly said mockingly, “Look at how your pussy just sucked that cock in, so eager to get started. It really comes naturally to you, doesn’t it?”
The man took a firm hold of my hips as he guided me back, slowly but surely, onto his cock. He began to thrust in and out, each new stroke reaching deeper inside me, and the sudden, full reality that this was happening, that what they were really going to do it, flooded through my mind. I was going to be fucked hard and deep in front of Linda’s unremitting gaze, my body on display for her to see, unless I said no.
I didn’t say no.
Out of the corner of my eye I was aware of Linda crouching beside the pair of us, watching my reactions. I was aware of her mouth creasing in faint amusement as she saw the nature of my opposition gradually change. She could see me starting to struggle because I wanted to struggle, not because I genuinely wanted to get away. My cries grew more frantic, and I pulled futilely at the handcuffs holding my wrists to my back, but I didn’t say a word. A tiny trail of fluid escaped the dripping miasma between my legs and rolled gently, tellingly down my thigh.
I might have been left with no more than a very wet and sore cunt, however, if Linda hadn’t removed one of her gloves, reached out her bare hand and purposefully touched me right on my clit with two of her fingers. It was like an electric shock running through me the moment she did it. “Ohhhhhh!!!” I suddenly shrieked.
“You liked that, didn’t you?” she asked me rhetorically, a devilish grin on her face. She began to rub my sensitive clitoral hood with the same methodical intent that I was being fucked in my pussy. “Going to come if I keep doing that, aren’t you? Aren’t you, honey?” She had the cutesy-sounding voice of someone tickling their Rocky(D)’s stomach.
“No… no…” I managed to whisper faintly, my heart pounding frantically against my ribcage as I squirmed on her fingers. I had some control left when I was just coping with a penis inside me, but she was ruthlessly taking that control away from me with every brush of her fingertips. The slightest touch, and she was reducing me to total helplessness… “Oh, no…” came the last, feeble mewl from my mouth.
Keeping her hand firmly on my genitals, Linda shuffled up until she was kneeling right beside me, her mouth pressed to my ear. “Yes,” she hissed defiantly, and an instant later I exploded all over the cock inside me, my screams filling the room as my whole body shook with an intense orgasm. I hate to think what I sounded like, but I could barely sense my surroundings as my head slumped to the floor and I fought to regain my breath. Far away, I could still feel my vagina spasm, refusing to let my climax go.
“This isn’t over,” Linda promised me, pulling me upright when I still hadn’t fully recovered. I sucked in air desperately as she wrapped her arm tightly around my neck, drawing me towards her. “By the time I’ve finished with you, you’re going to be a very humble, respectful, obedient little girl. Do you understand?”
“Yes…” I murmured.
“Louder!” she yelled, tightening her grip slightly.
“Yes, yes! I understand!” I cried, just wanting the pain to stop. Why on earth did she even need to ask when she had me so utterly in her power, when she knew how she could make me feel? Resentment bubbled up inside me, only it was a strange kind of resentment. I wanted to prove to her that I could take all that she demanded of me, and more. I wasn’t the pathetic figure she viewed me as. If, at this moment, I’d been able to take a step back and look at myself objectively, I’d have seen how she had already trapped me in her way of thinking.
Slowly Linda released me, and turned to face the man whose dick had just helped bring me to orgasm. “Pull out now,” she ordered, and he instantly obeyed. I could see his shaft glistening with my juices; I’d really soaked it from coming so hard, with more force than I’d ever had before. She obviously noticed it too, and pointed it out to me in the most degrading terms possible. “My, you did make his cock very dirty, didn’t you?”
She swivelled me round to face him, or rather his crotch, the head of his penis only inches from my face. “Maybe this’ll teach you to control what comes out of your cunt. Off you go.” Grabbing the back of my head, she forced me forwards until the tip was pressing against my firmly sealed lips. Linda pulled my lower jaw down and ignoring my screech of protest, shoved me over the head. Another jolt of alarm ran through me as I felt the strong, musky taste of me on my tongue. “And if you don’t keep that cock in your mouth until you’ve licked every last drop of your cum off it, so much the worse for you,” she warned me.
I felt so humiliated as I began the task of sucking my own ejaculate off a stranger’s dick, kneeling on the floor below him, my hands cuffed behind my back. So humiliated and so, so aroused. Linda placed her hand on my head and started to run her fingers gently through my hair, in the way a mother would display affection for her little girl as she was engrossed in something. Her eyes watched me intently, reminding me of what I was to her. “I do so love to watch a slut doing what she’s best at,” she cooed at me, and as my hackles rose, so did my excitement. With every ounce of fluid I lapped up, another one seeped inexorably out of my pussy, until I was struggling to keep my sticky, dripping thighs apart. How slutty is a girl who gets herself off as she takes dick down her throat, huh Linda? I thought defiantly. Too slutty even for you?
“Is she doing a good job?” Linda asked her slave casually.
“Yes, Mistress,” he said in a growl, his voice sounding slightly strained.
“I’m glad to hear that. I knew she would.” I looked up for a moment, and she saw me. “Keep your eyes on your work, you little whore,” she snapped. “That’s all you should be thinking about right now.” I returned to my task and pursued it with such gusto that eventually it was she who told me to stop; there can’t have been a trace of me left on that penis.
“Open your mouth wide,” Linda commanded, and I stared up at her insolently as she held my jaw and inspected my tongue. “Very good. Now here’s a little extra from me, free of charge.” With great ceremony she pursed her lips, gulped and released a long, thin drop of saliva into my open mouth. I tried hard to maintain my stance, to match her power, but the look of sheer, cold contempt in her eyes as they bored into mine for what seemed like an eternity was too much for me. I looked away.
“I think it’s very important, having gone to the trouble of bringing my slave in specially, that he and I get the maximum usage out of your body,” she announced grandly as she stood up. “Time to do her in the ass.”
I panicked, tried to rise, certain that this was a step too far. But once more Linda pinned me to the floor with ease; I was absolutely no match for her strength. She knelt over me, my head between her legs, as I squirmed frantically to try and get away. “No, no, please don’t,” I pleaded, the words tumbling out of me. “Please, I can’t, you can’t do that to me…”
“You don’t understand, do you? In here, your body belongs to me. You’re here to be used.” Pulling strands of my hair back, she pressed uncomfortably against my neck. “And you will be used.” As her hands roughly massaged my breasts, I let out a deep breath and lowered my head to the floor to await my fate. My nerves were tingling so much I felt I would die from the combination of anticipation and fear. Oh God, the thought of what they were going to do to me…
Suddenly I felt Linda’s hand touch me between my legs and let out a yelp of pain, which she completely ignored. “As I thought, all it took was sucking some cock to get you wet again.” Yep, she knew me just as well as, if not better than, I knew myself. How could I ever have hoped to be ‘too slutty’ for her? Why on earth had I even wanted to be in the first place? My mind was still spinning as she scooped the liquid onto her fingers and began to smear it over my asshole. “You’ll need some lubrication for what you’re about to take,” she reminded me.
In the mirror I saw her put the man’s cock into her mouth and give it a brief, energetic suck, removing it with a pop of air. “That should soften things up a little bit. Kneel down again,” she ordered him. “I’m going to guide you in.” She removed her velvet glove and slipped on a surgical one, and then her index finger started to tease the tight, puckered entrance to my ass. Slowly she eased me open, until her finger suddenly slipped inside, the tight ring of skin sucking it deeper in. Once she had me used to the sensation she added another digit, then another, and soon her three fingers were gently feeling around inside my ass. I moaned softly.
But then they were withdrawn and my moan was replaced by a cry of agony as the overwhelming pain of his cock head, stretching me open, flooded through me. I knew that Linda was holding it as her other hand was resting on my buttocks, and she was going slowly, but still the pain was intense. “Please… stop…” I whispered through gritted teeth. That seemed to end any compassion she might have felt for me.
“Stretch her ass wide, that’s a good boy,” I heard her say. “Make her feel every inch of you inside her.” He was well on the way to doing that already, and there just wasn’t enough lube on him. The walls of my anus felt like they were burning as his shaft scraped them. Squealing, I screwed up my eyes and endured the pain as he reached deep inside me, then said a silent prayer of thanks as he withdrew. It was only a temporary reprieve. Soon it was in me again, only this time it slid in a little more easily, and I could feel my ass starting to get used to the sensation. And my mind followed obediently.
“Come on dear, what’s the problem?” Linda cooed softly, running her hand gently down the curve of my spine. “You’ve had two of your holes filled already – might as well go for the trio.” With my eyes squeezed shut I braced myself and began to thrust back against the man, my ass pressing against his pelvis. There was one final burst of pain, and then I had him completely inside me, all the way up to his balls. God, how fucking dirty I was…
Linda crouched beside me and held my chin up, so I could see myself clearly in the mirror. I looked so tiny and obedient, hunched over with my legs spread apart and my ass filled with cock. I shuddered even as the words formed in my mind. Her lips brushed teasingly against my ear. “You know what’s going to happen to you, don’t you?” she whispered, in a tone that was simultaneously seductive and conspiratorial.
“Yes…” came a little sound from my mouth, as I shook frantically.
“You know you’re going to get fucked in your ass, don’t you?”
“Yes,” I murmured. “Yes, I do.”
Linda stayed beside me, resting her cheek on mine, as she looked into the mirror at the pair of us together. Her eyes were searching me, challenging me to show resistance, and as she realised I wasn’t going to show any, a triumphant grin gradually spread over her face. “Not a surprise,” she whispered to me in parting, before she stood up and addressed the man patiently waiting inside me. “Give it to her hard and fast. But you’ll need to have your strength up,” she added disdainfully. “From the looks of it, this whore could take a butt-fucking all day long.”
I didn’t even have time to let the sting of her insult sink in, because like a clock that had suddenly been set in motion the guy sprung to life and began to pound me. My toes flexed against the floorboards, my knees dug painfully into the wood, and once again I tugged at my handcuffs. It didn’t make any difference, and I knew that it wouldn’t. He followed her orders to the letter, fucking me harder and harder, deeper and deeper, until my face had slumped limply onto the floor and all that emerged from my mouth were pathetic little gasps. The metronome rhythm of his cock was setting the pace for my whole body.
“Look at me,” Linda’s voice rapped out. With a sharp intake of air I forced my head upwards, unable to use my arms to steady myself, and saw her standing in front of the mirror, legs spread slightly. “What exactly did you say to me when you came in here? Remind me.”
I struggled to remember what I had said, and struggled even more to say it when my ass was in the process of being impaled. “I… I said, that it seemed silly, and that… that only men were taken in by it,” I admitted, feeling my face burn with embarrassment. “That was it all an act.”
“Oh yeah, that was it,” Linda echoed. She looked down at me with a mock-pitying expression on her face. “Karma’s a bitch sometimes, isn’t it? You don’t have to answer that question, by the way.”
“I hope you realise now,” she continued, folding her arms and legs as she leant back against the mirror, “that you can’t shoot your mouth off like that and expect to go unpunished. If you can’t give me the respect, the obedience, the deference that I deserve, then you have to learn it. What have you learnt so far, hmm?” The sudden asking for my opinion took me completely by surprise.
I looked at her properly for the first time since she had taken that initial walk around me, when I had so foolishly belittled her. She looked magnificent. Standing there with her arms folded confidently, a superior smile on her face, her hair flowing around her shoulders, her leather-clad torso brazenly on display. The tips of her boots pointing tantalisingly upwards… She looked like a goddess.
“That you’re my superior, Mistress,” I said humbly, and it was so wonderful to see her break into a smile that seemed genuinely warm.
“Very good. You’re learning.” As if she had read my mind, she raised one foot and started caressing my neck and cheeks with the edge of her boot while I continued to gasp from the hard thrusting in my asshole. “Good girl.” After she had worked me into a state with the feel of cool leather on my skin, she bent beside me and kissed the small of my back, before reaching underneath me. “You deserve a reward,” she told me enticingly, and began to rub my clit again. She knew what that would do to me.
If the first one had been like an electric shock, then this was a full-blown shockwave that spread outwards from my genitals, forcing my mouth open in a scream of pleasure that verged on anguish, it was so intense. My ass bucked and squeezed against the dick inside it, and that triggered another surge of energy that had me writhing like a wild beast on the floor, trying both to embrace and to escape the feelings that coursed through my body. I shrieked uncontrollably, my head pointing downwards, my feet slamming against each other.
“My, you are a noisy little creature aren’t you?” Linda observed with amusement, and I was dimly aware of her getting up and fetching something from nearby. Then a strap was brought down over my head, attached to a ball that dropped neatly into my gaping mouth, filling it completely. I’d been gagged, as well as restrained. “There, now I don’t have to listen to your nasty little cries any more,” she said happily. “But I can still enjoy watching you work.” With that she returned her hand to my clit, and started where she’d left off.
I found it hard to measure the time after that; it all merged into one incredible experience where I lay there tied up and helpless, a woman fingering me and a man fucking me, the pair of them bringing me to orgasm after orgasm until I hardly knew where I was. The screams kept on pouring out of me, muffled by my gag but still clearly audible, and my ass and thighs shook at the relentless pounding I was receiving. Linda did her level best to belittle me whenever she saw an opportunity.
“I bet your boyfriend would be somewhat, now what’s the word I’m looking for… aggrieved, if he knew how much you enjoyed taking strangers’ cocks in your asshole, wouldn’t he?” she suggested to me casually as she worked me up towards yet another climax. “That this is how you like to spend your afternoons… ha ha!” I growled defiantly through my gag, which she seemed to enjoy. She enjoyed turning me into a mass of quivering, shaking flesh a few seconds later even more.
Abruptly she ordered her slave to withdraw from me and he did so, leaving me hunched over, breathing heavily. I glanced up into the mirror and barely recognised myself; my hair was plastered to my forehead in large sweaty clumps, my face was flushed almost beetroot-red, and a long trail of saliva dribbled out of my mouth past the gag, coating my chin. I was a mess. A total, dirty mess. Linda looked at me approvingly and then slipped off the gag, allowing me to cough and splutter my excess drool onto the floor.
“You’ll need the use of your tongue now. I think my slave did an excellent job of fucking you, having to put up with all your annoying screaming and writhing. It annoyed me too, but it was worth it to watch you cream yourself at the thought of what a whore you are. Now it’s time for my slave to be relieved.” She looked across at him. “You may release yourself.”
“Thank you, Mistress,” he said graciously, and I realised that what little he had said had been in response to her questions and statements alone. What kind of a leash did she keep him on? The same one that was working so well on me, I guess. I watched in fascination as he knelt down to her left, gripped his dick in his hand and began to stroke it beneath her attentive gaze. Soon I realised exactly where his load was going to go: on her feet. Her exquisite, booted feet. Her face widened into a smile as she watched him pump his shaft faster and faster until he erupted over them with a grunt of exertion.
“Good boy,” she told him, and then beckoned me over with a single flick of her index finger. I knew what she wanted me to do, and shook my head. She lowered and hardened her voice. “Come over here. Now.” Reluctantly I shuffled forward, my stomach lurching at the prospect. I’d never been the most enthusiastic swallower in the world, I knew Stuart was disappointed about that… oh God, Stuart. Was I really about to do this?
“Down,” ordered Linda, and there I was, my face just inches away from the thick load that had been deposited on her feet. “You know what’s required. I want to be able to see my face in those boots by the time you’re done.”
I realised the wrath I would incur if I resisted. I also realised that I’d passed the point of squeamishness, that I’d had any number of opportunities not to let it go this far. So I took a deep breath, extended my tongue, and licked. I licked until the leather was at least shining bright, if not clear enough to see a face in. The only compensation as I gulped the bitter liquid down me was the knowledge that I was satisfying Mistress Linda, and she looked extremely content as she watched me lap her extremities clean.
Of course, she hadn’t dismissed the slave, allowing him to watch me swallow his semen right in front of him. Only when the last trace was gone did she turn to him, click her fingers and say, “You may go now.” I breathed a sigh of relief as he left, knowing that it was over. Linda held my head in her hands for a moment, making sure I had taken the last drop, then indicated that I should stand. Turning me around, she uncuffed my hands and I felt a surge of pain as I was finally able to flex muscles that had become cramped from being pinned behind me.
Then my heart sank. “I’m not finished with you yet,” Linda whispered to me, and led me a short distance across the room, past the mirror, to a set of chains manacled to the wall. What more could she want of me after what she had just made me do? “Please Mistress, haven’t I… haven’t I done enough for you?” I begged, trying to appeal to her compassion.
“No,” she said simply, shaking her head. “No, you haven’t. Hold your arm up,” she commanded, and I was so used to following orders by now that in an instant my left arm was firmly secured to the wall. She knelt down and briskly fastened both my ankles with similar restraints at floor level. For some reason she left my right arm free and it dangled awkwardly at my side. I was her prisoner once again, and once more her cold green eyes were roving over me in calculating fashion.
“You’ve come a long way from your initial disobedience, but you’ve been treated lightly up till now. You haven’t really been tested. It’s obvious you love getting fucked in your pussy and ass, no matter who it is, so that was hardly a challenge for you. I want to see you work.”
The pain and exhaustion were beginning to get to me, and I couldn’t begin to understand what she meant. I didn’t dare show any of that to her face. Her face, which continued to scrutinise mine to an uncomfortable degree. I tried to break eye contact with her but she refused to let me, and as she stared at me her hands started to roam over the front of my body. Methodically covering every inch, from my neck to between my breasts, inward from my hips to my belly button, through the short hairs left over my pussy. I shivered at her touch, knowing that sooner or later this delicacy was going to be reinforced with something very, very harsh.
I wasn’t wrong. She broke off from fondling me to fetch something from a nearby shelf. I saw her pick up a long, slender length of chain and carry it back to me. As she drew closer I could see it wasn’t one length but two, joined together in the end she was holding. And on the other ends were two metallic tweezers with rubber fitted over them. She wasn’t… she couldn’t…
“You can probably guess what these are,” she said, holding them up as I flinched and tried to back away, to no avail. “There’s no point in struggling, you’ll only make the pain worse.” Reaching out to my right breast, she squeezed the tip together between her fingers and smiled as I winced. “You have very nice nipples. Sensitive, I presume?”
“Yes Mistress,” I gasped, the agonised look on my face proof enough.
“Good.” With great care and attention she held my breast in her hand and attached the clamp. I gave a sharp moan the instant I felt it bite into my teat. “You’ll find the pressure hard to bear at first, but your body will adjust in time,” she assured me, doing the same to my left nipple and ignoring my obvious discomfort. Once they were both secure, she stood in front of me.
“I’m sure you’ve heard the theory that the female body has a much higher pain threshold than the male, which would seem to make sense to me. But I have to say, I’m a hands-on sort of woman; most of the people in my line of work are,” she smiled devilishly. “I don’t like to leave these theories up in the air without testing them personally, in practical conditions. It’s much more fun that way, don’t you think? I was considering something similar with your pussy, but you’re going to need that free for what you’re about to do.
“Look at me,” she commanded, forcing me to combat my pain and focus on her. “These chains which I’m holding in my hand, which are attached to your nipples, have a maximum extension which should be somewhere over there.” She turned and pointed to a spot roughly in the center of the room, halfway to the stairs at the far end. “I’m going to take them and walk over to that spot.”
She turned back to face me. “Then I’m going to keep walking. Do you understand?” My features broke out into dismay, and I felt as though I was on the verge of tears. What had I done to deserve this?
“But… why Mistress, why?” I pleaded.
“Because I need you to demonstrate your commitment to me, to complete your submission to me. I’ve given you a lifeline which you must make use of… and here it is.” She held my free hand up. “Use it well.”
“What do you mean, Mistress?”
“I mean that I’m going to carry on walking away from you until you put your hand between your legs and start to pleasure yourself. That will get me to stop. If you want me to come back, you’re going to have to do some coming of your own. In fact, I propose nothing short of a trade. One orgasm, for one step. The only way you can bring me closer to you. I think that’s rather fitting, don’t you?”
Regardless of the sheer humiliation involved, I was already sore and aching from a multitude of forcibly induced orgasms while I had been on my knees. My clit was so sensitive I could hardly even touch it, and now she wanted me to finger myself again and again, to give myself pain in one area to alleviate pain in another? It was crazy. “I don’t have the energy,” I begged her. “It’ll hurt me so much if I touch myself down there…”
“Oh, nothing like it’ll hurt you if you let me keep on walking,” Linda assured me with a chuckle. “And believe me, if you stop playing with yourself for a moment, I will walk. If you dare to take your hand away from your pussy, I’ll give the chains an extra pull, which will tighten the clamps a little bit more. They’re already too tight for you to remove them by hand, so don’t bother trying. The good news,” she said, suddenly brightening, “is that multiple orgasms will be counted individually. So if you really know your own body well, I might be back in front of you sooner than you think.”
“How… how will you know for sure when I have an orgasm?”
“Sweetie, I’ve made you come countless times over the last half-hour,” she said flatly. “I’ll know. Now quit your fucking whining, and get on with it.” Her words cut straight through me again, and I slumped back against the wall. She was going to make me come again this time, only she’d set it up so that I was the one who would administer the orgasms myself. Very clever. Very dominant. I could feel that rebellious little clit of mine begin to throb again.
Keeping her eyes firmly on me, Linda took the chains in her right hand and began to back away from me, one methodical step at a time. As she did so I watched them slowly rise from their slack position and grow taut and straight, dread running through me. Even then I entertained the hope that she was bluffing, that this was another game she was playing with me just to make me look weak and helpless in front of her. But when I felt the strain on my nipples that indicated there was no more give in the chains, and I saw her standing there regarding me impassively, her fingers playing with the metal, I knew it was no bluff.
Uncertainly I placed my hand over my crotch, still unwilling to start masturbating to order. Linda took a single step backwards and stretched the nipples a tiny amount, causing me to gasp. As I recovered my breath, she took another step back, and as I looked down I could see the hard red nubs being pulled outwards from my breasts. The pain was overwhelming; I couldn’t take much more of it. So I chose the lesser of two evils, and began to rub around my clit with my fingers.
The first was easily the most difficult. I thought that Linda would loosen her grip slightly as she watched me get to work on myself, she might even take a step forward. She didn’t. She stayed where she was and made me see it through to completion before she would move a muscle. I grimaced with the effort of enduring the pain from my clit while I tried to arouse myself. There was no shortage of sexual thoughts to occupy my brain, thoughts of what I was doing today, of fantasies that I had long harboured, but I found it so hard to overcome the embarrassment of getting myself off in front of someone else that it was a real chore to reach orgasm. Finally I managed it, and as I shook against the wall and let out a quiet moan, Linda obliged me by taking one step forward. The pressure on my nipples eased slightly.
“Again,” she said. I took a deep breath, and re-entered the fray. Thankfully I was now a lot wetter between my legs after the first orgasm, which made it easier for my fingers to slip and slide around on my pussy without the friction becoming too great. It still hurt to touch myself so soon after climaxing, and I had to bite my bottom lip to stop myself crying out. I tried to vary things a little, slipping two fingers inside my vagina while I worked my clit with my thumb. But again the awkwardness of it all restricted me, my acute awareness of the sound of me masturbating in this otherwise silent chamber. This time I was done a little quicker and it felt a little better, but it was still an ordeal. How on earth was I ever going to last long enough for her to get back to me without my body giving out on me?
“Again,” whispered Linda as she took another step closer. I happened to look closer at her eyes, and suddenly I saw something that I hadn’t seen before in those cold, clinical irises. Excitement. She was actually getting excited as she watched me masturbate. I was fulfilling her fantasy. Underneath that cool exterior, was her heart starting to beat just a little bit faster?
Fuck yourself, came a voice in my head. Fuck yourself. Give her what she wants to see.
I looked directly at Linda as I began to give the muscles in my fingers a rigorous workout. I opened my legs wider so she could see the whole of my pussy, letting her know that if this was what she wanted, she was going to get a damn good show. I began to masturbate wantonly, my inhibitions vanishing one by one with every frantic stroke across my clit and every quiver of my thighs as the orgasm built up inside me. I didn’t have time to be embarrassed when I was concentrating on frigging myself as hard as possible.
Less than a minute later I came, and it was absolutely mind-blowing. My body pitched forwards away from the wall, dragging my other arm behind it, and I let out a guttural cry of exhilaration as I revelled in the tingling sensation that shot all the way down to my toes. “Oh, God!” I yelled, my vision temporarily blurred, and the only thing that kept me on my feet was the certainty of the immense pain in my nipples if I were to drop to the floor. This feeling, though… it was so intense it went from pleasure, right through the pain barrier, to a blissful state I could barely even describe.
With deep snarls I recovered my composure, and before she could even say it, I started again. But this time I only needed to touch myself to trigger off yet another orgasmic surge, just as powerful as the last one. “Oh, yeeesssss!!!” I shrieked, arching my back and thrusting my hips forward. My feet scrabbled around frantically on the floorboards as though they were made of lava. Once I had calmed down enough to look at Linda, I could see that her mouth was slightly ajar, and her tongue was slowly circling her bottom lip. She was regarding me the same way a cheetah would size up its prey.
Her prophecy came true. I’d set off a chain reaction and all I had to do was let the orgasms overwhelm me, one by one. I shut my eyes and submitted to them completely, and I’d never felt freer, more unburdened in my life. Every few seconds another one would seize me and I would shake helplessly, twisting and turning and tugging at my chains, but I accepted what was happening to me and I loved it.
At last I snapped out of my trance when I felt my legs becoming warm and damp and looked down to see my thighs coated in fluid that was oozing out of my pussy. This was easily the wettest orgasm I’d ever had. I looked at them with fascination, until suddenly a pair of leather boots stepped into my vision. I looked up and there she was, the goddess standing there before me, looking more pleased with me than she’d ever been. My heart leapt in anticipation.
“Well done,” she said in a heartfelt tone, and reached out to touch the mound of soaking pink flesh that was my pussy, careful to avoid setting off yet another orgasm. “You’re very wet down there, aren’t you?”
“Yes, Mistress.” She spread her fingers delicately around my vagina, picking up some of the moisture that was accumulated there, and I moaned softly. After soothing me for a few seconds, her hands wandered up my torso to my breasts, and taking both clamps in her fingers, she removed them together. The agony at that instant was greater than anything I’d felt before, and I screamed hard at the air as I buckled towards the floor, my nipples in burning pain. There was total detachment on Linda’s face as she watched me fight to stay on my feet, and I wondered what on earth it had all been for.
And then out of nowhere, she suddenly clutched my head in her hands, brought it up to meet hers, and gave me the softest, gentlest, most feminine kiss I had ever received from anyone. The moment I felt her cool, forgiving lips brush across mine, my resolve cracked and I completely melted into her arms. I didn’t have a bone in my body left that would resist her. I didn’t want to resist her.
When she broke off the kiss I felt a crushing disappointment at being parted from her, and a longing to prove to her that I was totally and utterly hers. “Mistress, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for disrespecting you,” I whispered in the most heartfelt tone I could muster. I could sense tears starting to well to the surface. “I… I just want to be yours, please let me be yours!”
Mistress smiled reassuringly. “You already are,” she promised me. With both hands she traced circles over my torso as I watched her meekly and obediently. “You were a very bad girl when you first came in here,” she reminded me softly. “I don’t tolerate bad girls, any more than I do bad boys. But I’m glad that I’ve managed to teach you some respect.” She bent down and undid both my ankle restraints, then my left arm. I almost collapsed on top of her the instant she did so, and she quickly had to support me. Holding me up, she led my weakened, orgasm-wracked body across the room to a spot beside another wall, where she propped me against it like a dummy.
“I have one last task for you to perform,” she announced, and I simply nodded my agreement. Whatever she wanted me to do, I would gladly do it. Just being able to obey her gave me such a joyous feeling. I watched as she wheeled over a strange looking piece of equipment; two tall wooden struts at each end, holding between them a thin wooden bench with a padded centre. It was far too thin to sit on, though. Mistress indicated that I should lie across it, and as I did so the padding pressed quite comfortably against my stomach, but very high in the air, meaning that my arms dangled down in front of me.
I soon found the answers to my questions as Mistress produced two lengths of rope and tied my wrists expertly to my ankles below me, leaving me securely trussed up and suspended over the bench. She then took out something from a nearby cabinet and held it behind her as she walked over to stand right in front of me, inches from my face. With obvious relish she parted her legs, lifted them, and slipped the strap-on dildo neatly over her hips. I looked up at her, wide-eyed, and she simply smiled and nodded confidently. Once she had slicked it with lubricant, she bent down in front of me and held my head up.
“Now please listen to me,” she said calmly. “Your punishment is over. What I’m going to do to you now, I’m going to do because I want to do it. Because the thought of fucking you excites me. That should be all you need to know.” In turn I nodded my acceptance, and with the dildo grasped in her hand she strutted authoritatively round behind me. “You must understand that I don’t normally get two holes to work with, so I intend to make the most of them.” The thought, the previously unconscionable thought, of being taken by another woman barely even crossed my mind. It made perfect sense.
I could still see myself in the mirror on the wall, only a little further away this time. And when I looked, it was not to see my own reaction, but to see that of Mistress as she eased her dildo inside my pussy and started to thrust in me. There was a look of deep concentration on her face, but also a firmness and control that made her resemble a man. The dildo wasn’t as warm and flexible as the real thing, of course, but the pace was near-identical; God, she was strong.
By now I had come so much that I was neither searching for nor resisting another orgasm, I was just seeing where my body took me. But at the same time I was concentrating on what Mistress was doing, and with every stroke the intensity on her features increased. If she had been excited at watching me finger myself, she was absolutely enthralled by what she was doing now. Her breathing quickened, her eyes closed, and her hands grasped my ass firmly, squeezing the flesh between her fingers.
Maintaining her speed, she bent low over my body until she was almost lying on top of me, her hands clasping my shoulders. “I do so love breaking girls like you,” she whispered breathlessly, and what turned me on more than her words was how I could hear her trying to contain her excitement.
“I love being broken by you, Mistress,” I whispered back faintly, and she gave a groan of recognition that suggested I’d just managed to turn her on even more. Her hips slammed harder and harder against mine, and I coped with the pain as I could see she was building up to something really powerful. Suddenly I saw her face twitch, her mouth drop open, and felt her quickening breath on my neck. At the exact same time the grip of her hands on my shoulders and her thighs on my ass tightened, and I felt completely owned, possessed by her as she shared her orgasm with me. The fact that I was getting a little wet again down there as I had another, much smaller one of my own was almost incidental.
Mistress stayed hunched over me for quite a few seconds, recovering her breathing, before she pulled out of me and walked round to face me. Close up I could see that even her immaculately cool complexion was a little flushed, her curly hair tangled and sweaty at the edges. “Clean up, before I move on to your other hole,” she ordered, and pushed her dildo into my mouth. I didn’t care at all about tasting myself by now, so the clean up was routine, but it was really exciting to have her hands placed firmly on my head, guiding me deeper down the shaft as she watched me take her cock. Whether it was latex or flesh, to be face fucked with it felt so, so good.
When she eventually positioned herself behind me again, spreading open my ass cheeks with a wonderful lack of ceremony, she had no problem slipping her dildo inside. “I’ve trained you well, haven’t I?” she observed with pride. “Taken like a natural slut.” I gave a low acquiescing moan, and she laughed, holding onto my legs as she leant back and began pounding me like the biggest, most dominant alpha male, her legs spread wide and her grunts loud. And I loved it. I loved just lying there wrapped up like an inviting present, the helpless and overwhelmed recipient of her desires. I knew the moment that Mistress finished her last commanding stroke inside my ass and then withdrew, after nearly ten minutes of almost indescribable bliss, that I wasn’t going to let my submissive feelings end here.
I was only vaguely aware of Mistress reaching down and untying the knots that bound my wrists to my ankles, and having to shift myself out of that mental state was as hard as learning to stand free and unaided after being shuffled around from one bondage position to another. As I stood upright, taking in lungfuls of air, she leant into my left ear and whispered, “Put your underwear back on and go back upstairs when you’re ready.” I heard her turn and walk slowly away, the clatter of her high heels on the floor eventually replaced by the slower sound of her ascending the stairs, and I didn’t dare turn around until she was gone.
When I got upstairs again I found the rest of my clothes, but no sign of Mistress – Linda, Linda, I had to keep reminding myself. She’d done a real number on me. There was, however, a corridor leading to a room with a shower in it, and I headed in there to cleanse my mind as well as my body. It didn’t really help, though; I was still in a daze as I washed and dried my sore, aching but so very grateful limbs.
Looking clean and fully attired, I went back into the kitchen and found Linda, sat casually at the table in the same clothes she’d worn when I first arrived. Her face bore the same relaxed, rather kindly expression she’d greeted me with. It was as if the whole thing had never happened. I found it hard to get round that, because I couldn’t believe that I looked the same to her now, not after what we’d done. I guess she’d used the time I’d spent in the shower to slip out of her dominatrix role in every aspect.
I sat down at the table and stared nervously at my bunched hands. “How was it?” Linda asked simply, with a casual smile.
“It… it was good,” I replied with a nod. That was a pathetic response. “No, no. It was great, honestly.” I managed to look her in the eye as I said that, and she appreciated it.
“You haven’t done anything like that before, have you?”
“How did you know?” I asked flippantly, but I don’t think that impressed her.
“You shouldn’t lie about things like that, it could be dangerous for you. It got me mad at you anyway, and that can definitely be dangerous,” she added with a smirk. “But seriously, I was worried at one point that you were panicking and you couldn’t remember your safe word. I hope I didn’t push you too far.”
“No, no,” I reassured her hastily. “You… you gave me what I deserved.” Oh God, there was that same jolt of excitement running through me as I said those words, even though I couldn’t quite make eye contact with her this time.
“So what I do isn’t just something to lure in horny and desperate men, then?” Linda asked sardonically, a twinkle in her eye, and I cringed inwardly.
“That was so dumb of me. I’m so, so sorry.”
“That’s OK, I think you’ve done enough apologising for now. In a way, you had a point; most of my clients are men. I don’t get very many women booking a session, but the few that do are usually really into it – more than the men, sometimes. And it’s fun. You get a lot more… mileage, I would say, from a woman’s body.” Linda’s eyes focused squarely on me as she said that, her tongue lingering on her lips. “Men can be so limited in comparison. But I’ll never get tired of exploring those limits,” she concluded with a grin of pure, uninhibited pleasure.
“After what Stuart said about you, I figured, well, if he didn’t enjoy it, then I’d find it all a bit of a joke…” I confessed, more embarrassment etched on my face.
“I take it you’re the one who wears the pants in your relationship, then?”
“Well, yeah.”
“And are you still going to be wearing the pants from now on, Ellie?” she continued, a leading look on her face as she searched me for what I was feeling inside. The sudden use of my name made the question feel that much more personal.
I was back to staring at my hands again. I took a few deep breaths, and found the courage to look at Linda and say what I could never have felt comfortable saying to any other woman – or any man, for that matter. “Not if I can help it.”
Linda nodded slowly, another faint smile playing across her lips. “I hope you know it won’t be as simple as that, though. This isn’t a sliding scale. Just because Stuart wasn’t comfortable in a submissive role with me – and what I do here is very different from what proper couples get up to, as I’m sure you’re aware – that doesn’t mean he’s immediately going to embrace the reverse. You know he’s a laid-back guy, maybe a little too laid-back to really get into the session he had with me. You’ll be asking an awful lot of him.”
“Yes, I know,” I admitted nervously. “Do you think I should just leave well alone, though? Because I can’t… I can’t try and pretend that the feelings aren’t there. Not now.”
“No, and you shouldn’t have to. You just have to handle things carefully. I admit, I’m not used to having this conversation with a woman, but…” Linda shifted in her chair so that she could talk to me more directly. “What you need to do is convince him that you’re still the same person you were before. There are all sorts of ways that people like you get undermined by society. The men are seen as pathetic wimps, hen-pecked husbands, etc. The women, unsurprisingly, have it much worse; you’re weak and naïve and have low self-esteem and were abused as a child, all that crap. I’ve heard just about every patronising, uninformed theory in the book in the time I’ve been doing this.
“I know you’re not weak. You’re a strong-willed girl, it didn’t take me long to realise that when you arrived. Turning things around in your relationship could be difficult, but it could also be fun, because it is such a turnaround. I’ve met plenty of men in here who look as though the last thing they’d ever do is kneel in front of me, but oh, when they crack… If you show him that you want to explore something different, that it can make both of you happy, then he’ll enjoy reining you in.”
“You think so?” I queried, trying to hide my doubts.
“I know I would,” she said, her cool gaze fixed on me, and I could feel myself blushing uncontrollably yet again. “Maybe I’ll get another chance, if you feel like paying a return visit.”
“I hope so. I hope so.”
“There are plenty of areas we left unexplored down there, you know,” Linda informed me, nodding towards the door to the dungeon. “You may find it hard to believe, but I went a little easy on you in some ways.”
“I can believe it,” I said cautiously. “I’d definitely be interested. But I really, really want to make it work with Stuart before I do anything else.”
“I’m sure you will.” Linda looked at me again for a moment, then stood up, walked round the table and took my arms, indicating that I should get to my feet. Obeying her had almost become second nature to me by now, even in this context, and I did as she wanted. She stood imperiously in front of me; then, she gave me a warm, friendly hug. “Good luck.”
“Thank you,” I smiled, and reluctantly turned to leave her presence. When I was with her, it felt safe to be submissive, because she understood. As I headed towards the front door, I realised that I was now on my own, and it was all up to me.
I emerged into the bright mid-afternoon sunshine and the street looked the same, everything looked the same, but I knew I’d become a different woman. I felt somehow numb as I got into the car and started the drive back home. As the familiar signs flashed past me, I wondered whether I should do what I normally did at this time; collect some groceries, pay some bills, gently nag Stuart about something he’d forgotten to do, keep everything running in orderly fashion as always… but I didn’t want to do any of that right now. I only had my mind on one thing, and it wasn’t efficient, it wasn’t constructive, but my God, I was going to enjoy it.
I got back home in record time, rushed upstairs and went straight into the bathroom, peeling off all my clothes the moment I got inside. I stepped into the shower, barely an hour after I’d used one already, but I didn’t end up wasting any water. Before I could even turn the nozzle I was slumped against the wall of the cubicle, my legs wide apart, masturbating furiously as I recalled everything Linda had said and done to me down in that dungeon and what I yearned for Stuart to do to me right here, in our cosy little home.
I didn’t get very far with the thoughts whirling through my mind before my legs buckled under the pressure of orgasm, and I slumped slowly down the wall onto the floor, into a position that felt so natural for me – on my knees. I stayed there hunched over, and to my own amazement I kept on flicking my clit, pushing myself way beyond what was comfortable until I had another orgasm, and pitched forward with my eyes squeezed shut. I pictured Stuart standing above me, those adorable features of his set in a calm expression that demonstrated his absolute control over me, and the simple, naked desire to be dominated flooded through my body, making me tremble with excitement.
I was left in my own safe fantasy world for a few minutes, my flesh shivering against the hard tiled floor as my mind roamed freely. And then I heard the sound of the front door, followed quickly by Stuart’s voice calling out blithely as he asked where I was, and my heartbeat speeded up again. Slowly, reluctantly, I got up out of my fantasies and prepared to face the real world.
It could have gone better, I thought to myself after I’d sat down with Stuart and had the most difficult conversation of my life. On the other hand, it could have gone worse. He didn’t look at me like some kind of weirdo when I told him how I felt and he was too easy-going to start panicking about what I wanted from him. But he was definitely surprised, and understandably cautious about the whole thing. He couldn’t understand how I’d gone from being a minor control freak to someone absolutely desperate to give up control in the space of a single afternoon; I couldn’t convey how that change had happened in simple terms, either.
We had almost no sexual contact for days thereafter, not because he was repulsed by me, but because he wasn’t sure how he should handle me in bed. Nor was I, for that matter. For me it was like driving towards a bright, shining sign along an unlit, unmarked road; the end goal was clear, but the means weren’t. I realised that Stuart must have felt something like this for a little while, before he went to see Linda, but then he had realised that it wasn’t for him. Was I going to have a similar moment of revelation, when I realised that I’d been wasting my time? I expected it, but it never came, and in the meantime my fantasies grew more and more wild. More out of control.
Finally Stuart asked me what exactly his role was meant to be in this arrangement. Was I supposed to become his slave, taking constant orders from him? Thankfully that wasn’t it at all, as I could tell that he was never, ever going to be comfortable being that dominant. I explained to him that I wanted things to stay more or less the same, both of us doing our share of work at home, only this time I wouldn’t be quite so obsessive about it all. I wouldn’t plan our schedules out for his benefit, I would leave the final decisions about what to do, and where to go, to him. If he didn’t feel it was that important, then we wouldn’t do it, simple as that.
That security blanket of order wasn’t an easy thing for me to give up, and I felt some doubts inside me over whether I should really appeal to his laziness; after all, the potential was there for him to just ignore problems completely if he had the power to. But I hoped he wouldn’t do that. He didn’t really like being bossed around by me, I knew, it was just a rut that we’d both fallen into and both become comfortable with. I didn’t want to be that kind of nagging woman. On the other hand I didn’t want to be so meek and subservient that Stuart lost respect for me either, I just… wished that he would tell me what to do, now and then. He could cope with the responsibility, if I was still there for advice and help.
I left out any proper discussion of the sexual dimension, naïvely assuming that he would take to being in control instantly, bearing in mind he was the proactive one in the bedroom. That was idiotic of me, of course, as we had hardly ever gone beyond normal sexual relations into something that could be deemed ‘extreme’. He wasn’t used to being that assertive with me and with my body, but I wanted him to push me so badly. I didn’t know how far he would push me, and how much I could take, but I was eager to find out.
I suggested that we should try to have a day, one day, where I did exactly as he told me – me being a temporary slave, I guess, but without the burden of us having to maintain our roles day in and day out thereafter. It was a game, a kinky little game of the sort that couples often played with each other, and Stuart took it as such. For a start, he decided on that coming Friday, which made things much easier given that we’d be apart for half the day. Then he let the matter drop for the time being, and I suppose it was better to keep me guessing but I felt frustrated at not knowing how much consideration he was really giving it. When I went to sleep on the Thursday night I was a bundle of nerves over a) what he had in store for me, and b) whether there was actually going to be anything at all.
It wasn’t exactly a huge shock when I woke up in the morning and commands weren’t being barked in my ear. Stuart only had to tell me what he felt was worth telling me, after all. I got into my normal routine, getting ready for work, while he ambled round with plenty of time to kill before he left for his part-time job that only took up a couple of hours every day. Hopefully he’d become a bit more career-driven if he took the lead in our relationship… I tried to stop thinking in those terms. I dressed in what I thought he would like to see me in, as he hadn’t given me any instructions over my clothes. It was a normal black business suit, only with the shortest skirt in my wardrobe complemented by the highest pair of heels I could find. Combined with my existing height, they made me totter about ridiculously.
I walked unsteadily downstairs and Stuart noted with surprise, “I haven’t seen you wear something like that before”, which hardly helped me. He was making it feel more and more manufactured on my part. When I came up to hug and kiss him goodbye, my shoes actually made me a little taller than him. He said nothing, though, and gave me a nice affectionate peck on the lips, like any other morning.
Then, just as I was about to turn and leave, he suddenly knelt down in front of me and lifted up the hem of my skirt. I was completely taken aback, and not in a good way. I felt like I was being inspected like a piece of merchandise as he looked at my plain underwear – work panties, basically – and nodded his approval. “That’s nice,” he said as he straightened up again. “Make sure you’re not wearing them when you get back, OK?”
“Uh… OK,” I replied dumbly, slowly realising that he wanted me to ‘go commando’ while I was at work. Yeah, I figured I could do that. Not very original, but hey… “Bye then.” I headed out the door, and drove off to work, leaving Stuart with a rather mixed impression of his efforts so far.
I could hardly concentrate while I sat at my desk all through the morning and into the afternoon, but I wasn’t anticipating my return home, I was dreading it. I knew I was going to end up looking like such a fool by the time the evening was over, because all of Stuart’s half-hearted attempts at taking charge were ultimately my doing. I went to the bathroom in my lunch break and took off my panties, though all that really did was inconvenience me, as I had to prevent anyone from getting a look up my very short hemline. I didn’t get any submissive thrill from it. By the time I was on my way back I was feeling depressed about the whole situation.
Surprise no. 2 was waiting for me when I came through the door; the moment I had crossed the threshold, Stuart suddenly appeared and pushed me forcefully against the wall, his hands roaming all over my body. My breath taken away, I panicked momentarily before I adjusted to what was happening to me. As I felt his lips cloying at my neck, I was also aware of his hands sliding down my hips until they slipped inside my skirt. “Very good,” he declared, as he roughly grabbed my crotch and realised that I’d done as instructed. I should have been delighted to be stripped of control like this, it was exactly what I’d wanted, but instead I only felt disconcerted and disappointed. It wasn’t quite how I’d imagined it, so it didn’t work for me at all. Not his fault.
“We’re going to have dinner soon,” Stuart informed me casually. “After dinner I’m going to fuck you. Do you understand?” I nodded. The bluntness of his statement was appealing; I only wished I could take the whole experience seriously, as though he really was controlling me. It seemed to me like he was still playing a role.
Dinner went as normal, he made it for the both of us, and we chatted mindlessly about work and seeing friends and what we were going to do at the weekend. All the while I was screaming inwardly that I wanted to be taken and dominated, to be used for his pleasure, sidestepping the fact that he was already doing it and it just wasn’t to my taste. Even afterwards we cleared up the table together, dutifully putting pots and pans back in their normal cupboards, arranging the cutlery, loading the dishwasher. So far, so familiar.
Stuart did give me quite a pleasurable surprise, though, when he took my hand and led me over to the now-empty table. He gestured for me to lie down on it. Right here, in the kitchen? I thought to myself. Now this was a bit more like it. Excitement started to build in me as he rapidly undid my blouse, ripped it off my shoulders and tossed it away, and he didn’t even fumble with my bra this time round. Once he’d pulled my skirt down and dispensed with that too, he had me spread-eagled in front of him, naked and freely available. He removed his own clothes without much ceremony, and in a way that seemed a bit inappropriate to me too, until I asked myself why the hell I was so impossible to please. We were getting down to it, weren’t we?
Grabbing my thighs, he pulled me towards the front of the table and entered me. By now it had been a while since I’d had his cock inside me, and I had to admit to a sudden rush of pleasure as the walls of my vagina were parted and the wonderful feeling of fullness hit home. Oh, now that was good. I moaned as I pushed my legs together, trying to draw him deeper into me. He took a firm grip of them and began to drill me hard, finally exhibiting some of that overwhelming power that I wanted to release in him. My head flopped to the side against the table, my eyes closed, and I savoured sensations that I almost thought I’d forgotten. We hadn’t had really good intercourse for some time before we ever got our heads mixed up in the world of domination…
“Oh Stuart, fuck me,” I whispered, lost in my own little world. “Fuck me hard…” He leant further over me, spreading my legs around his hips, until he loomed above me in quite a threatening position. I should have been more aware of what he was doing, placing himself so close to me, but I was too wrapped up in my own selfish gratification to take proper notice. Before long the pace and consistency of his thrusts were really working well on me, and as I felt an orgasm building up inside me I started to moan in anticipation.
“Ellie,” came the sound of his voice, and it was so sharp and insistent that I had to open my eyes and look at him properly. He was looking directly down on me, his eyes locked onto mine, and he was holding my arms hard against the table, just below my shoulders. “Haven’t you forgotten something?” The expression of bemusement on my face showed that I clearly had.
“You have to ask me for permission before you come. Remember?” That detail threw me; I didn’t recall reading any manual saying that was an essential part of the process. I was irritated, being so close to a good climax and now being stopped right in my tracks. I lay there uselessly for a few seconds, Stuart’s unrelenting gaze making me feel uncomfortable.
“Is it all right now?” I finally asked, in a voice so sullen and bitchy that Stuart should have punished me for it on the spot. That was what he would have done subsequently, that’s for sure. Instead he kept on looking at me, and the disappointment in his face was palpable.
“You know Ellie, if you want me to do all this for you, then you have to give something back in return,” he informed me coolly. “One of the perks, for me, is that I get to fuck you where I want to, when I want to. And you come when I say so, and not before. If I’m supposed to be your superior, then you might like to start showing me some respect. Is that understood?”
His words were such a shock to my system that I just lay still and numb, absorbing them, trying to think of a response. Only when I took the time to do so, instead of shooting back another idiotic reply, did I look closely back at Stuart and take him in. The deep brown eyes, the dark hair, the features that were soft but handsome, so full of life and energy… I realised, with sudden clarity, that he had the exact same expression that I’d longed for in my first fantasies of being dominated by him. There was the confidence, there was the control, there was the expectation that I was going to do as I was told. I had everything I’d been dreaming of right in front of me, if only I was humble enough to yield to his will instead of trying to impose my own.
“Yes sir,” I replied, in such a quiet voice that he could barely hear me.
“What was that?”
“Yes, sir,” I repeated, loudly, trying to make clear to him that I wasn’t joking, that I was utterly serious, that I was surrendering myself to him.
I don’t think he was expecting me to call him sir, but he took it in his stride. “Now what do you say, Ellie?” he whispered back to me, his voice soft but so deliciously controlling.
“Please may I come, sir.” The words were familiar from my, ahem, researches, but my heartbeat quickened at the mere sound of them leaving my mouth. I could feel my vagina clutching eagerly at his dick as it lay immobile inside of me, having lost none of its firmness.
“If, and only if, you look at me, and I mean really look at me, then you can come,” Stuart announced. “You can’t look away, and you can’t close your eyes either. Look at me. Now, come.” He started to grind very gently, only the slightest of motions, and as my eyes focused saucer-like on his, I was gripped by the most intense orgasm I had ever experienced, bar none. I felt my body tingle from my head right down to my toes, a tingling that was gradually replaced by wave after wave of pleasure cascading through me, setting all my extremities on fire, rendering me incapable of doing anything except take it.
That was why it was so intense and so different from anything I’d felt before. It was because I couldn’t hide anything from him. No matter how good they’d been in the past, there’d still been that tendency for me to play down my orgasms a bit, out of embarrassment, or guilt, or an unwillingness to let go and show how I truly felt. I didn’t have that option here. Stuart calmly watched me orgasm from beginning to end, in the certain knowledge that I was submitting to him. He saw my utter helplessness as I writhed below him, my back arching and my hips rising towards him in a frantic bout of shuddering. I longed so desperately to touch him, but with my arms still pinned firmly at my sides all I could do was lift my head slightly and mouth half-formed words of desire that ended up sticking in my throat.
Eventually, with agonising slowness, he withdrew from me, leaving me lying there on the table, shaking like a victim of electro-shock therapy. Every time I dared to move one of my limbs another charge of energy surged through me, until I gave up and simply lay prone, my mouth gently sucking in air. And all the while I kept my narrowing eyes on my boyfriend, not daring to disobey his commands. “Stuart…” I breathed, almost silently, my hands open as I tried to gesture him back towards me. A tear drop formed at the edge of my eye, and began to sting it. There wasn’t quite enough energy in me to blink it out.
I actually felt a little embarrassed to be slumped in that position like a ticking time bomb, Stuart being unable to touch me in case I went off. But he didn’t seem to have quite the same domineering air that he’d used to put me under his thumb. “You know, you’ve totally drenched my cock, Ellie,” he said with a droll glance downwards.
“I’m sorry, sir,” I found the strength to mutter deliriously. He laughed as he walked round to my side, my eyes hypnotically following every move he made.
“You don’t have to apologise for that one,” he explained, before gazing down the length of my body. “You look like a lobster.” That was exactly the kind of ridiculously goofy comment he made at serious moments, and I managed to crack a smile, remembering one of the many reasons why I loved him so much. It also showed me that he was still the same man he was before, only now he had me totally in his power, and I adored him even more for it.
He took hold of my wrists and pulled me up so that I was sitting upright; even that temporarily knocked the stuffing out of me. Sitting in front of me, he put his hand round my neck and gently kissed my forehead as I breathed in deeply. “You see, I’ve been doing some more reading about all this,” he revealed with a smile.
“I…” I began ashamedly, the tears starting to well up again, “I’m sorry…”
“Don’t be sorry,” he interrupted me. “There’s still something you can do for me.”
“What is it?”
“Dry me off, of course,” he said with a gesture towards his crotch. I didn’t need the wry expression on his face to understand what he meant. “Will you do that for me?”
“Of course I will,” I beamed happily, and slid off the table silently wishing that he would tell me, rather than ask me. But I was pretty confident that that would come in time. I recovered my strength surprisingly quickly as I got down on my knees and positioned myself between Stuart’s legs; probably because I now had to focus all my energies on pleasing him, rather than dwelling on what had been given to me. Being instructed to suck my juices off his cock brought back some exciting memories from the dungeon. This time, though, I was absolutely determined to see it through to completion, and give him the most mind-blowing oral he’d ever experienced.
Whenever I gave Stuart blowjobs in the past they were either casual quickies, or else long drawn-out affairs where I played the porn star, slobbering over his cock as I amped up the scowling and pouting. I tried to ensure this was neither; all I wanted to convey was my sheer joy and happiness at the opportunity I had to make him feel good. I placed my hands quite deliberately under my curled up legs and started to lick at the tip of his penis, smiling warmly at him as I did so. He watched me closely, and it felt good for me to have his complete attention, even though I had no illusions about who was in charge here.
I began to take more of his shaft into my mouth, spreading my saliva along its length as I gobbled it up. The lubrication made it easier for me to slide most of it to the back of my mouth, almost touching my throat. Now I brought my hands into play, rubbing gently up his thighs until I reached his balls and massaged the sides of them oh-so gently with my palms. “Oh God Ellie, you’re incredible…” Stuart muttered, starting suddenly as my fingers trailed across the sensitive flaps of skin, and I swelled with pride even as my mouth was filled with his swelling cock. It was tremendously hard to suck on it and maintain eye contact at the same time, but I made the effort, leaving him in no doubt how much of a pleasure this was for me. A pleasure which, I had to admit, I’d never felt to this degree before.
I started to gulp the head, licking the sensitive underside as I did so. That combination of warm breath on the top and stimulation on the bottom really made him respond, his hips grinding slowly towards me. His breathing was becoming that little bit shallower, his eyes opening and shutting; all the signs that were familiar to me, but now they meant so, so much more. I swallowed the head one more time and then opened my mouth, letting him see it sit there on my tongue as I lapped at it, my eyes focused intently on his. Then I went back to work, and the groan of desire that emanated from him was even stronger.
After several minutes of such teasing, I took a risk, popped his cock out and made a request that he’d never actually heard me say, properly, in all the time we were together. “Please will you come in my mouth, honey,” I whispered seductively.
Stuart did a double take, looking down at me in disbelief. For a moment I thought he was going to voice his gratitude that I was granting him this favour, and ruin the atmosphere completely. Then his eyes narrowed. “Sir,” he corrected me – music to my ears.
“Please will you come in my mouth, sir,” I echoed, and we exchanged grins. As I picked up the pace with the intention of bringing him to orgasm, I knew that I was going to make this happen myself. Just because I was submissive, that didn’t give me a licence to be passive. I held his shaft in both my hands and began to jerk it rapidly in front of my wide open mouth, only occasionally stopping to suck on it. I couldn’t hope to know his cock as well as he did, but using both mouth and hands in tandem, I thought I could get damn close to the best orgasm he could muster on his own. The sloppy, squelching sound that it made as I pulled on it told me I was doing something right.
Just as Stuart’s groans reached fever pitch, I held his pulsating cock in front of me and murmured one last time, “Oh, please do, sir”, before slipping it neatly into my mouth. Keeping a level head, I felt his penis spasm against my tongue and then began to down spurt after spurt of cum as it shot out uncontrollably. As each one went down my throat I sucked the next one out of his opening, making sure it all stayed on my tongue and that not a single drop spilled out wastefully onto my chin. I was justifiably proud of myself.
“Oh, fucking hell…” Stuart gasped, suddenly pulling back out of my mouth as I went after the remnants from his ultra-sensitive dick. “Woh!” I dialled down my enthusiasm a little, but still cleaned up thoroughly. As the aftertaste really hit home, I reflected on it and thought that it wasn’t all that bad. I’d overreacted by being so squeamish about it in the past, and should be more accepting of it from now on. Then something more obvious hit home: that it wasn’t up to me any more. If he so desired, I’d be swallowing my boyfriend’s loads every single day for the rest of our relationship. My thighs twitched together at the mere idea.
When he had recovered, Stuart lifted me to my feet and kissed me, keeping my arms once again pinned at my sides. I felt so small and insignificant in his embrace, but at the same time so safe and protected. Our tongues danced together as he pressed his mouth tightly against mine, and when he at last withdrew and allowed me to rest my head comfortingly on his shoulder, I knew I had found my master. “Thank you, Stuart,” I whispered gently. “I’m yours. I’ll always be yours.”
He said nothing in reply; he kissed the side of my head, and grasped my buttocks tightly, squeezing them as he held me close to him in the middle of our mundane little kitchen.
We spent a very peaceful and relaxing weekend together, during which I stopped worrying about what Stuart was doing and he seemed to grow more comfortable with taking charge. There were little changes in his attitude, a firm tone in his voice as he gave me instructions that weren’t too demanding but still enforced the reality of our arrangement. I loved having the freedom to do only what was required of me, and no more; there was no need for me to obsess over the little things like I’d done in the past.
The following Monday morning I dressed for work in clothes that were still fairly revealing but rather more practical than they’d been before. Stuart had got up before me and kept his distance at breakfast, making me feel as though I’d done something wrong to warrant the cold shoulder from him. I was on my way out when he caught up to me and gave me the same peck on the lips I always had from him. Then he turned me round once more by my shoulders and kissed me, passionately, for at least thirty seconds in the silent hallway. I was panting desperately by the time he broke off, my eyes locked on his and my wrists once more in his firm yet tender grasp.
“Remember what I said,” he told me quietly. “Panties off when you come back.” I nodded my agreement, but in reality we were at loggerheads once again. The difference being, he now expected me to go obediently off to work and do my job as normal, with just that kiss as a foretaste of what was to come later; while all I wanted him to do was rip my clothes off my body, bend me over and give me a fucking I wouldn’t forget in a hurry. There was only ever going to be one winner of that argument, and I went on my way with a tingling between my legs that simply wouldn’t abate for the entire day.
This was a good kind of frustration, through. The only problem I had with slipping my panties off at lunchtime was trying not to get everything else in my bag wet when I stuffed them in there. My mind was on overdrive, thinking up different fantasies and scenarios, all of which I knew were going to come to nothing as I didn’t have the power to put them into practice. I didn’t have the power. Even saying that sentence in my head sent me into paroxysms of delight.
One thing that I started to realise as we got used to our roles was that I did have a little more leeway than I’d assumed. Neither of us wanted to be master and servant twenty four hours a day, so for the most part I was free to do as I wanted. It was only when Stuart felt the need to demonstrate his authority that I was brought back into line. And it was that feeling, that sensation of being put in my place, that gave me the biggest kick of all. A decision deferred to him here, an order carried out there, and I was completely in his hands. It was as if all my concerns melted away and I could take simple pleasure in doing what he desired.
At home we solved the issue of how provocatively I should dress for him by deciding that I shouldn’t dress much at all, unless it was necessary. In a complete contrast to my work attire, here I was usually clad in nothing but my panties, and whenever I was engaged in some mundane chore around the house I never knew when he would suddenly come up behind me, strip me completely and take me. I knew to expect it, certainly, but the thrill of being seized and used was always a constant, refreshing joy. It didn’t happen to me as often as I hoped, though. I was putting myself at the mercy of his sexual desires, and there weren’t enough of them for my liking! On days where he wasn’t in the mood I would slowly be driven crazy by the absence of his touch, so much so that I started begging him to at least be allowed to give him a blowjob. He usually refused politely, although I could see in his eyes the amusement at a plea that he hadn’t expected to hear that many times in our relationship when we first got together.
He was right to do so, of course; this was all about me submitting to his desires, not him bending to mine. I could sense he was still awkward about things like demanding oral sex from me on the spot, as though he ran the risk of offending me with something so blatant and crude. But I felt like telling him, blatant and crude was just what I wanted at times. Gradually he grew more accustomed to it, until when I heard his footsteps approach I couldn’t be sure whether the cock was going in my pussy or in my mouth. That element of uncertainty only added to the excitement. I continued my policy of blowing him and then jerking him off into my mouth, and he didn’t object. I was pretty sure his orgasms were intensified by the knowledge that whatever method he desired, I would accept it completely.
There were very few firm rules I had to adhere to, largely because Stuart was always the kind of guy to make it up as he went along rather than lay down the law from the start. One that he insisted on was that I masturbate before him several times a week, and the procedure was very simple: I stripped totally nude, I sat down in front of him and I fingered myself without any mechanical aid until I reached orgasm. After the spectacle Linda had made of me in the dungeon it should have been easy, but having to do it again in front of my boyfriend was like learning to do the whole thing from scratch. I was cold and vulnerable, my legs wide open and my pussy thrust forward so that he could see exactly what I was doing, and I worried he might get bored waiting for me to work myself into the state I needed to finally climax.
I found the nerve to voice that worry to him, and he laughed in disbelief. “Bored? Are you crazy? Ellie, if you had any idea how fucking sexy you look when you get yourself off… you could charge me full admission to see it, and I’d pay up.” Well, that certainly told me. I really would never have guessed; perhaps because, even though we’d seen each other get off in the past, it had never been such a one-way street before. We’d never had a situation where one of us did it, and the other one just watched. And now I was always going to be the one who was watched… I took inspiration from that thought, and from Stuart’s fascinated eyes as they flicked constantly between my face and my crotch – and very soon it wasn’t a question of speeding up my orgasm, but of delaying it. Got to give the paying viewer his money’s worth, after all.
It was very important that I was completely naked while he stayed fully clothed; important that he should see me coming with my entire body exposed to him, concealing nothing, yielding all the power to him. He found it very hard at times to keep his hands off me, I could see that, but not half as hard as it was for me to pleasure myself in his sight while being deprived of contact. I always felt so deeply submissive after I’d finished a masturbation session, my cheeks flushed and chest pounding as I curled up on the sofa, happy that I’d managed to satisfy him and remind us both of my place in the relationship. The orgasms themselves weren’t bad either, but I got mine at plenty of other times too, whenever Stuart wanted it.
We’d had a blissful few weeks when I suddenly got a call from one of my friends, asking if her and the rest of the girls could come over for the afternoon. I’d seen them around in the intervening time, had coffee, talked about work etc., but I’d never dared let on about what was happening between Stuart and me. That was our business and no-one else’s. Rashly I agreed to their visit without consulting him, and after I’d put the phone down I immediately worried that I’d overstepped the mark. It wasn’t without reason, because he didn’t get on particularly well with them.
With a pang of guilt, I realised that I’d done too good a job of bossing him around in front of them; they had little respect for him, thinking he was a time-waster, too casual about life, and a couple of them had confided to me that they felt he was wrong for me. They were young, driven working women just like I was, and I liked to think we were feminists… I knew I still was, even if I had chosen to give up power in my relationship. Stuart’s laid-back attitude about things tended to rub them up the wrong way, I could see it when we were all together, and he was well aware of the faint contempt they held him in. I was equally well aware that I couldn’t let that atmosphere perpetuate when they came round. It would be completely wrong of me to let it, now more so than ever.
I told Stuart apologetically about what I’d done, and suggested that I could call my friend back and reschedule someplace else, or perhaps he could go out somewhere while they came over. He looked slightly confused as to what the fuss was all about, then he allayed my fears. Yes, it was fine if they came over, and no, he wasn’t going to go anywhere. I hoped that I hadn’t disturbed him by being that little bit too craven. “You haven’t told them about us, right?” he asked.
“No, no,” I assured him. “I don’t know how on earth I’m going to… without them misunderstanding, I mean. They’ll think I’m crazy.”
“Why don’t you show them, rather than tell them?”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve got a few… ideas, about what to do when they visit,” he explained, his mouth turning up into a slight smile. He started to outline them to me in detail, and as I listened I grew more and more impatient, wishing that it could happen right now.
When the day dawned, Stuart found buried in the back of my wardrobe the outfit that I hated the most out of everything I owned. I still couldn’t remember how I’d got it in the first place, whether it had been a gift or a party piece or something like that. It was a white taffeta dress, with ridiculous frills around the collar and sleeves and a hemline that was a little too revealing. I didn’t mind wearing girly clothes now and then, but this was like something a dairy maid would wear down on the farm, skipping innocently through rows of cornfields. I loathed the thing, and would have been happier wearing something overtly slutty instead. I wasn’t looking forward to donning it at all, until Stuart reminded me that my friends wouldn’t expect me to be wearing it either. Then I began to understand the effect he was trying to achieve.
I put on a little bit of make-up, nothing elaborate but I did use a lot of gleaming red lipstick, and I made the effort to style my hair so that it was glossy and flowing, again not what they would be expecting for an informal get-together like this. I complemented it with shiny black heels that weren’t sleazy, just overly glamorous for the occasion. I looked at myself in our full-length bedroom mirror and saw someone who was either on her way to a nearby barn dance or else full of the joys of domestic life. Hopefully the latter, I could cope with them thinking that much more easily than if it was the former.
Stuart smartened up his act too, wearing a neat black shirt and jeans that made him look slimmer, and even sexier, than before. I envied the lack of effort that he had to put into his appearance, but I checked myself when I remembered that what I was doing was quite a special case. He didn’t want me to dress this elaborately all the time, hardly ever in fact. And this was perverted, in the purest sense, because we were both working together to create a false, distorted image of myself. Perversion is a lot of fun.
Out of the window I saw my girlfriends come up to the front door, all casual jackets and jeans, just as I would normally be dressed. I swallowed nervously, and Stuart kissed my neck and whispered to me that everything would be fine if I just kept my cool. As the bell rang I walked up to the door first, and opened it with a welcoming grin. I was tested immediately by the way my friends’ faces dissolved from cheerful smiles into polite puzzlement. “Hi!” I announced.
“Hi Ellie,” said Vicki, a girl with curly dark hair and an amiable smile who was my closest friend out of the group. “You’re very well dressed up, aren’t you?”
“Well, I felt like a change.” They knew full well that wasn’t the kind of change I’d make in a million years. Behind Vicki I saw Sam and Natalie, two confident and rather imperious women, still looking confused at my choice of attire. I knew them all from college, but Vicki was the one I’d stayed in closest contact with and she’d ended up working in the same office as me.
“Hello,” Stuart chipped in from behind me, in an even tone that didn’t give any clue as to the change in our dynamic. I felt his arm close around my waist and immediately did the same to him. The others responded with a chorus of half-hearted hellos that didn’t do much to disguise their lack of regard for him. We all stepped into the living room, the two of us letting the girls sit down first on the available furniture, which was limited. We were making a good income, mostly through me, but we’d need to upgrade to a bigger place if we got married. I held Stuart’s hand as though I were about to announce the engagement to our assembled audience, but I didn’t have any such declaration to make. It just felt nice.
“So, Ellie,” asked Sam, “anything special going on at work?”
“Well, I know Vicki’s mentioned it to you already, but there is a chance of a promotion coming my way,” I revealed modestly, not wanting to make too big a deal of it. That wasn’t just me being humble in fact, I had my suspicions that what I was being offered was the same job, with much the same income, only a more fancy title after it. But it didn’t fail to impress the girls, who I knew admired the way I was moving up the career ladder on my own two feet.
“You’ll be CEO by the time you’re thirty, I can tell,” Vicki commented with a slightly rueful air.
“You’re doing well yourself,” I reminded her.
“Yeah, but give me a chance! I don’t know how you do it.”
“Long days and late nights, mostly.” I knew who was responsible for most of those recent late nights, and smiled inwardly as he gave me a little squeeze.
We started chatting as we normally did and Stuart almost faded into the background, unnoticed. I did wonder for a moment whether his awkwardness around them had returned, but I needn’t have worried. “Ellie,” he suddenly cut across our conversation, the tone firm enough this time for me to recognise it as an order, “go and check how the lunch is doing, would you?”
“Of course,” I beamed, and went out instantly before the others could say a word. I strolled into the kitchen and gave the food a cursory inspection; there was, of course, no need to check anything. I put my arms up on the counter, took a couple of deep breaths, and then slowly walked back into the living room. The girls were understandably put out at my upping and leaving, and tried not to show it. I didn’t want to offend them, but at the same time this was too good an opportunity to miss. Things settled down once more and it was as if the incident had never happened. I made sure I involved Stuart in our conversation, that I didn’t neglect him, so they didn’t have the luxury of forgetting that he was there.
When lunch was almost ready Stuart took my hand and pulled me gently towards him, announcing that he was just going out for a few minutes but he’d be back to eat with the rest of us. He put his arm round my neck and gave me a kiss goodbye which everyone, including me, thought would be a brief gesture. But he didn’t stop. I realised after a few seconds that he was kissing me with more and more intensity, his arms wandering down the length of my body and ruffling the material of my dress as he went. This wasn’t a kiss, this was a full-blown fondle. The hairs on the back of my neck stiffened as I felt him lift the hem of my skirt, knowing that he was giving everyone in the room the briefest glimpse of my panties.
I heard the faint gasps of disbelief from my friends, and my head spun dizzily at the knowledge of what was happening to me. Under the circumstances, I did the only thing possible: I stayed perfectly still and let him do exactly as he pleased. I didn’t make a single effort to try and move his hands away until he was finished, by which time my lungs were practically bursting. Finally he gave my bare thighs a little squeeze and then broke off from me, whispering, “See you soon.” I nodded, unable to do anything else while I was so acutely, embarrassingly aware of three pairs of eyes burning into my back. As I turned round I had to suppress my nerves and adopt a charming public relations smile, as if the whole thing had never occurred.
My friends all looked thunderstruck; Sam and Natalie were exchanging baffled glances, and Vicki was looking at me trying to comprehend what on earth was going on. “I think it’s just about ready,” I said, and lead the way through to the table, where I’d laid everything out neatly. I hadn’t lost any of my ability to plan things like this meticulously, even when my efforts were being directed by someone else. They sat down, I served the food out, and lunch commenced with an awkward silence hanging over the table. For a few seconds my own frantic heartbeat was the loudest sound I could hear.
“You and Stuart seem to be getting on very well,” Vicki finally observed, to the sound of nervous giggles from the other two. I could sense the slight coldness in her voice, though.
“Well, he’s happy that I’m doing so well at work,” I explained cheerfully. “He’s supported me all the way, I couldn’t possibly have done it without him.” Which was true, but probably not what they wanted to hear. Speaking of the devil, he came into the room soon after I’d finished speaking, and I still had no idea what he’d gone away to do for those few minutes. He gave me a briefer kiss this time, much to the girls’ relief no doubt, and sat down beside me.
“Did it go OK?” I asked, as though I knew exactly where he’d been and viewed it as something important.
“Yeah, it did, although…” He pulled his chair out slightly and looked down at his shoes. “Geez, it’s muddy out there on the path, must have been that storm last night. I’ll have to change these shoes, I can’t walk around getting all the carpets filthy.”
“That’s a capital crime as far as Ellie’s concerned,” Natalie chipped in, and the others laughed.
Stuart slipped off his dirty shoes and handed them to me. “I’ve got another pair in the bedroom upstairs. Go and fetch them for me, would you honey?”
I hesitated for just an instant, then smiled and said, “Sure thing.” As I got up and turned to go, he gave me a light little pat on the backside; it was affectionate, not dismissive, but it was the kind of thing he would never have dared do in the past, especially in front of other people. This time I had the biggest grin on my face as I rushed out and scurried upstairs holding my boyfriend’s grimy, mud-caked shoes, wondering how my friends were looking at him, what they were saying to him, if anything. I just hoped that we weren’t giving too much of a performance that they started to think it was all a joke. I was only exaggerating, not faking; the little shivers of pleasure as my legs rubbed against each other on the way up the staircase were a timely reminder to me of why I was doing all this.
I found his other pair, just like he said, and when I hurried back into the kitchen he was actually in the middle of an anecdote, as if he’d completely forgotten the errand he sent me on. That was even better. “Here you are,” I announced, and handed his shoes to him. Just for a moment I wondered whether he was going to make me bend down and slip them on his feet, but he had enough sense not to. Pity really; it would have made them twig at last what was going on, but the submissive rush would have been so worth it.
As we all resumed our meal, with me ignoring the accusing stares of Sam and Vicki in particular, I took the initiative myself and engaged in some mild flirting with Stuart; lots of eye contact, playing with my hair, laughing at his jokes and generally ensuring I was his captive audience. It was subtle enough not to be ridiculous, but still obvious enough for the girls to notice, and it helped that I really did want to listen to him, unlike all those other times where I’d become wrapped up in our all-female chats and let him sit there as a useless fifth wheel. When he made a point about something I said loudly, “That’s so true,” and my heart leapt as I saw how much he appreciated my agreement, because it was genuine and not a manufactured suck-up. He didn’t want a girl who spinelessly danced to his every whim, and I would never be that girl.
“So, Ellie,” Sam ventured at last, “do you want to come out with us for dinner next week? There’s this new restaurant we’ve been wanting to go to.”
I was about to say yes immediately, but I caught Stuart’s eye and stopped myself just in time. “I’ll have to check with Stuart first,” I replied carefully, “in case he’s got some other plans. If it’s all right then sure, I’d love to.” I knew full well that he didn’t have anything planned and that he wasn’t going to stop me; so did he, judging by the smirk he tried hard to conceal as he looked down at his plate.
Sam had just about had enough of this, and looked over at him. “Look, you’re willing to grant her permission, aren’t you Stuart?” she asked, in a voice dripping with both sarcasm and incredulity.
“Yeah, of course I am,” he replied flippantly, and for an instant I thought he was about to flat out say that we’d been stringing them along all this time with our elaborate role-playing. Then he carried on, “But only if she’s good enough to earn it. I’m sure she will be,” he quickly added, in response to Sam’s disbelieving stare. “What do you say, Ellie? Will you promise to be a good girl for me?”
I could feel every pair of eyes in the room trained on me, everyone waiting with baited breath for what I was going to say, whether I was going to stand up and yell at him, call him crazy, whatever. “I…” I began uncertainly, unable to utter the words. I mustered my strength, swallowed heavily and finally looked Stuart dead in the eye. “I promise, I’ll be a good girl.”
Just as I told him that I got the most incredible hard-on right between my legs. Much smaller than a guy’s, I’ll grant you, focused on a much smaller area above my vagina, but a hard-on nonetheless. It was an arousal that simply wouldn’t go away, and at that moment I desired Stuart so badly. It was another strip-me-bare-and-pound-me episode, one of an increasing number I’d been having in the last few weeks. Only by losing myself in fantasy did I manage to offset the humiliation of staying at that table and finishing my meal alongside my friends, a humiliation that might have been too great even for me to bear.
When we said our goodbyes, I could see Sam and Natalie looking at me a little pityingly, as if I needed counselling of some kind. Vicki was a little more canny, although even she didn’t really know for sure what was going on. I tried to let them know as far as possible that I would be able to make dinner the following week, without actually stating categorically that I was free. I left that hanging in the air as the door finally shut behind them, and I turned to Stuart and let out a great sigh of air. He looked almost as relieved as me, and slumped against the wall raising his eyebrows.
“A question,” I said boldly as I walked up to him and embraced him. “How long exactly did you spend tramping around in that mud outside to get your shoes dirty?”
“Nearly five minutes,” he admitted guiltily. I laughed out loud and gave him a tighter hug. “I’ve ruined it with them now, I know I have,” he went on dryly. “They used to just think I was a loser, now I might as well have ‘Creep’ tattooed across my forehead.”
“That’s not true,” I assured him. “I’ll bring them round. No really, I will.” I looked up at him adoringly, making sure he could see I was being honest. “You didn’t ruin it for me. I loved every second, I really did.” I put my arms round his neck and kissed him gently. He did the same to me, and we did a little romantic dance round the hallway, me falling effortlessly into my submissive role.
It was only when we stopped for a moment in front of a nearby mirror that I saw myself and remembered the one thing I still didn’t love; in my white frilly number I looked like someone about to grab my partner and get in line. “You know, I really do hate this dress,” I admitted with a shameful giggle.
“Well, take it off then,” Stuart advised me casually. “You’ll enjoy yourself a lot more.” And what do you know, he was right.
As we got deeper into ‘the lifestyle’, we started to make our sessions a little bit more extreme, enhancing his dominance and my submission. Those masturbation shows where Stuart stayed clothed and I wore nothing extended into the bedroom, into actual intercourse, with me left to imagine the body behind his simple dark shirt and pants while he revelled in my full, unbridled nudity. He managed to make a positive art form out of teasing me constantly, all day long, rubbing my breasts, hips and pussy with a pair of leather gloves he’d bought at a specialist store; he jokingly called them his ‘pervert gloves’, still showing some reticence at being thought of in those terms, but he wasn’t reticent at all when he wanted to work me into a frenzy.
By the time it got late in the evening my crotch would be dripping wet from so much foreplay that I was ready and willing to do almost anything. Sometimes I was a little over-willing; once, he sat down me on the couch after dinner and ran his hands all over my torso in preparation for fucking me. As he began to manoeuvre his penis into me, he brushed my clit by accident and I came instantly, shaking and moaning in a way that must have been recognisable to him as an orgasm. So instead of wasting valuable time that could be spent enjoying my body, he thrust into me and fucked me all the way through my climax, completely ignoring it, until I had another, much stronger one. I loved his willingness to take what he wanted, to subordinate my needs to his, and I told him afterwards that I wanted to make his pleasure my priority.
It was after one particularly intense bout of intercourse, where we lay side by side in bed covered in sweat, his cum safely inside my stomach, that I asked him whether I could be restrained during sex from now on. He told me that he didn’t like the sound of ‘from now on’, and that he might restrain me now and then when he felt like it. That was an acceptable compromise to me.
“Why do you want it?” he queried, sounding slightly doubtful; I knew this was another big step to take in our relationship.
“Because… because I don’t want to have the option of getting away,” I confessed hesitantly, realising that I wasn’t explaining it very well. “Not that I ever would try to, but… I want you to take that freedom away from me.” I stared deeply into his eyes, praying that he would understand.
“You know I’m bad with knots,” he commented. “I couldn’t even tie my shoelaces until I was fifteen.” Sometimes I thought he made this stuff up just for the sake of a joke.
“I don’t mean anything elaborate,” I clarified, thinking back to some of the gear I’d seen in Linda’s dungeon. “Just some handcuffs, some knots around my wrists, rope tying me to the bed… that kind of thing.” God, it was like talking about food: the more I mentioned it, the more I wanted it.
“I’ll give it a try,” he assured me, and I contemplated the possibility that maybe, just maybe, I would have to go without something that was beyond my partner’s limits. I was sensible enough by now to realise that this was part and parcel of being a proper submissive, and I was prepared for the disappointment.
However, much to my joy, I discovered that Stuart was OK with tying me up with the simple restraints I’d described, and so it was that one Saturday afternoon I found myself lying flat in the middle of our double bed, my arms spread wide above my head as they were bound by lengths of rope to both ends of the bedpost. I was naked, of course, and Stuart was all prepared to embark on another delicious round of teasing and tormenting me when the doorbell unexpectedly rang. Panic flooded through me instantly, visible on my face, and he gave me a reassuring gesture as he headed towards the door, closing it to behind him. I felt safer, but wished that he’d shut it properly instead of leaving that sliver of space through to the landing.
I listened intently as the door opened, heard the burble of faint conversation, then when the visitor’s voice was raised suddenly I realised who it was: Sam. That demanding, rather snooty tone could only be her. I tried to pick out the words closely, and gathered that she was here to find something she needed. The voices came a little closer and I heard her politely request whether she could use the bathroom while she was here; presumably that wasn’t all she’d come over here for. I could cope with that fine, but when I heard the sound of Stuart in response, calmly informing her that the toilet downstairs was damaged and that she’d have to use the bathroom upstairs, my heart almost stopped.
He was lying to her, of course, and for all my submissiveness I felt like killing him, because the one thing I desperately didn’t want was for her to find out my secret like this. Particularly not her, as I knew she wouldn’t be at all understanding in the way that, say, Vicki might be. I heard the sound of her footsteps ascending the stairs and realised with terrible clarity that this was no dream, that I really was a few feet away from being discovered naked and spread-eagled on my bed by one of my best friends. I didn’t dare to move a muscle as I heard her reach the landing and then pause for a moment. Just go in, I silently begged her. You don’t need to be up here for anything else, just go in.
Thankfully she did go into the bathroom, and the sound of the door shutting firmly behind her gave me a few minutes’ respite. I lay back and pondered how I could get out, but there was no way I could call Stuart, and even if I did I doubted he was going to come running. I stewed silently for a little while until the door clicked open again and a whirlwind of fear suddenly rose up inside me as Sam walked a little way along the landing, passing within inches of the bedroom door. I stopped my breathing as well as my movement, trying to make myself non-existent, and hoped to God that she wasn’t curious. For that matter she shouldn’t be, it was my bedroom after all…
The uncertainty of waiting for those few seconds while she paused outside was worse than actually being found; had I heard the door open then everything would have been crystallised, and I would have had to combat the crippling embarrassment with something, some excuse or defence, no matter how unconvincing. But there was still the possibility that I might get away with it, that hope still hadn’t yet been dashed. My eyes stayed glued to that slightly ajar door, my heart stopped dead with the rest of my body, until finally she moved away down the stairs and I let out the quietest, most indiscernible sigh of relief you’ve ever heard.
Several minutes later, after I’d at last managed to calm my nerves and recover my composure, Stuart snuck back into the bedroom and I had to resist the urge to yell at him for what he’d done. It turned out to be a good job that I didn’t. “That was Sam,” he explained to me quietly, though I’d already worked that out. “She just came over here to look something up downstairs, wanted to see you, but I told her you were out. I guess we’d both have looked bad if she found you, right?”
“You… you shouldn’t have done that,” I replied slowly, trying to control my anger. “I’d have died if she found out, just died.”
“No, you wouldn’t,” he said breezily, waving my fears aside. “Embarrassed maybe, but it wouldn’t have been the end of the world.” I thought that was easy to say from his position, but I made a big effort to push those negative thoughts to the back of my mind. “How would you have explained it to her if she’d found you?”
“I don’t know. That this is how I like to spend my Saturday afternoons, I guess,” I shrugged, managing to crack a little smile at how absurd that would have sounded.
Stuart slowly climbed onto the bed and shuffled up towards me until he was kneeling over me, in a position of power, and I could sense that the mood had suddenly changed. He reached out his hand and touched my cheek, which made me flinch momentarily as I became acutely aware of my vulnerability. He lifted my head slightly so that I was looking directly into his eyes from my rightful place, which was beneath him. “What would you have said to her if you were being completely honest?”
“That I like being controlled by you,” I said instantly, my gaze unwavering. “That I like being dominated by you.”
He smiled in satisfaction. “Very good.” Then he lifted his hand and kept his index finger pressed lightly against my skin, running it carefully over my mouth as he drank in my obedient, adoring features. At long last, after teasing my half-open lips, he descended down my chin and throat towards my breasts, all the while just the one finger tenderly caressing my flesh. My body began to respond as he reached my chest and traced circles over both my nipples; I stifled a low moan, straining at the bonds on my wrists, already anticipating where he was going to go next. My stomach rippled as his finger passed over it, taking in the pale folds of skin around my belly button, and with the briefest touch at the top of my pubic bone my hips bucked and thrust towards him. He could play my body like a string.
“I think someone is getting a little excited,” Stuart noted wryly, his finger poised above my vagina.
“Yes, sir,” I mumbled, and he always knew I was getting into full-on submissive mode when I called him that unbidden. He unfastened his pants and pulled out his cock, which must have been hard from the moment he came into the room, because he was definitely ready to give me what I needed.
“We’d better be quiet, though,” he advised me with a whisper as he prepared to enter me. “We don’t want to disturb her.”
My eyes jolted open in shock. “What? Who…?”
“Sam. She wanted to look something up on the internet, so I figured I might as well let her do that if she couldn’t speak to you. She’s downstairs now and I don’t know when she’ll be finished, so I thought I’d fuck you quietly to pass the time. You can manage that, can’t you Ellie?”
My eyes were now wide open in astonishment, and I was lost for words. I couldn’t believe that he was going to do it, that he was going to have sex with me as I lay tied to this bed while one of my friends innocently surfed the net downstairs. That wasn’t just dirty, that was indecent… I shuddered at the ropes binding me with a mixture of fear and excitement, and the excitement won. Still unable to get over how surreal it felt, I craned my neck upwards and murmured, “Please fuck me hard, sir.”
“My command is your wish,” Stuart quipped, and without ceremony he slipped his dick inside me. I gasped at the first moment of penetration, and bit down hard on my lip as I turned my head to one side. “You must be quiet,” he reminded me softly. “Just lie back and take your fucking like the good little girl that you are.”
I did precisely that, and for the next few minutes he gave it to me hard, harder than he normally would, so that it was a constant struggle for me to refrain from crying out at the deep thrusts into my pussy. I had my legs propped up against his shoulders so that he could really get in close, our heaving stomachs touching one another, and in my continual state of arousal fluid kept dribbling out of my pussy and soaking us both. “Oh, Stuart…” I whimpered powerlessly, my insides aching from the incessant pounding, but I took it, I took it all, remembering that this lack of freedom was exactly why I’d wanted to be restrained in the first place. The fear of Sam hearing us and popping upstairs to the bedroom to find that I was having the shit fucked out of me became the most indescribable turn-on, so much so that being unable to voice it truly frustrated me.
I was secretly a little disappointed when Stuart slammed hard inside me one last time, with a deep groan, and then pulled out stroking his cock. I opened my mouth wide, expecting it down my throat once more, but he gestured for me to shut it and then held his shaft right in front of my chin, spattering his load all over my face as he exhaled heavily, having to contain his own noise rather than mine. I rubbed my mouth and cheeks all around the head, making sure I got as much as possible, then smiled up at him through the clinging mess. “Thank you, sir,” I whispered, blowing strands of semen off my bottom lip as I spoke.
Stuart looked very pleased indeed, almost winded in fact, which was a nice change for me after all the times he’d coolly watched me be reduced to orgasmic helplessness in front of him. I hadn’t come once this time, but my nerves were on fire and my mind was racing at the thought of what we’d just done. Stuart’s shirt was half-transparent with sweat, and he wiped his brow as he slid off the bed. “I’m just going to see whether she’s done yet,” he told me in another low whisper. “She should be, after all we’ve done!” Composing himself, he left the door slightly ajar once more and went downstairs.
I was left tied up alone to reflect on the experience, Stuart’s cum slowly drying on my face. Gradually my heart rate returned to normal and my complexion settled down into something less than lobster pink. It did seem very quiet down there and the terrible thought crept into my mind that he’d been pulling my leg all along, that Sam was long since gone and all my arousal had been the result of a trick. That would be a little upsetting to me, and I’d resent him for that.
Then, some minutes later, I cocked my head as I heard the front door being opened and a few parting words being exchanged between the pair of them. My breathing nearly stopped again. It was true, my God, it was true… As the door shut behind Sam, and she went on her merry way, I closed my eyes and swung my legs together, reaching frantically, and fruitlessly, for that elusive orgasm.
Stuart may have been a tormenting master but he wasn’t an unfair one, as he eventually gave me my orgasm that same evening, crouched between my legs as I pressed against the full-length window that looked on to the back of our house. Bathed in the warm glow of the setting sun, I didn’t care who saw me, because this was too beautiful an experience to be spoilt by anything or anyone. It also proved to me that positions were not the be-all and end-all, for even though he was the one kneeling in front of me, giving me oral sex as I stood over him, I’d never felt more submissive than I did at that moment.
That was probably down to the fact that there wasn’t an ounce of tension or fear inside me, as there had been with many of our past encounters; even when completely on our own there was that sudden rush of power being taken and denied that brought other emotions into play. Here I knew my role, I was accepting of it, I was fully prepared for my orgasm, and when it came it was wonderful. There were no overwhelming surges of pleasure, just a gradual warm feeling deep inside me that matched the rays of the sun falling across my face. I breathed out once, softly, leaving a ring on the glass in front of me, and whispered a single, heartfelt, “Thank you.” He didn’t need me to qualify it with a title that we both knew to be true.
In theory the intense romance of that encounter should have been it for me, the last word leading onto a happy and contented life with me in the subservient role that I loved. But as time wore on I found it wasn’t quite enough, because I feared we were becoming stale. Stuart stopped giving me so many instructions, settling back into his former role, therefore I stopped becoming as compliant as I had been and he didn’t upbraid me for my impertinence. It was only when I found myself giving out orders once more, bossing him around, that I realised how much I truly hated it. I didn’t ever want to feel like that again.
I told him that we needed to stop, that we had to get back to him being in charge, and he got angry, telling me that being like that was hard work. I knew that as I’d been there myself. We were going to be in real trouble if we had a relationship where neither one of us felt like taking the lead. I tried to explain to him that what I needed was discipline, that he shouldn’t let me get away with not doing as I was told. That if he instructed me to do something he should be angry with me if I slacked off, and punish me appropriately.
The mention of punishment brought up something that had been lurking under the surface all the time. The fact was, Stuart was afraid of hurting me, either intentionally or unintentionally. That was sweet of him, but after that time spent with Linda I knew I had a lot more tolerance for both pain and punishment than I’d ever thought I would. And as I dwelt on it I realised it wasn’t just a tolerance… it was a craving. Not so much the physical sensation as the knowledge, the awareness, that it was being done to me.
I confessed this to Stuart in bed one evening and suggested a solution that I’d been considering for some time: going back to her. To Linda. He didn’t realise at first that I wanted him to accompany me, and became much more sceptical about the idea once he understood that he would be doing the dominating alongside her. “Come on, I’m going to look like an idiot next to her,” he protested. “She’s a professional at this kind of thing, I’m just making it up as I go along. I wouldn’t stand comparison.”
“Yes you would,” I insisted firmly, as firmly as I could without becoming dictatorial again. “You’re the man who’s controlled me at home. You’re the man I love. You’re the man I want to serve.” I snuggled up closer to him in bed, so that I was right beside him. “I can do it. I can serve you properly. You enjoy it when I do things for you, don’t you?”
“Yes, I do, but…”
“Look, I know there’s this idea that floats around that sex is less important to women than it is to men. That’s bullshit, at least it is to me. If I can serve you sexually, do whatever it is you demand of me, then I can do everything else too. And if I get out of line, then punish me, because I can take it. I can take it.” He appeared to slowly come round to what I was saying, at least showing a willingness to try, even if some doubts remained. “Besides,” I added, “it’s my birthday coming up next month and I’d like something special…”
Stuart laughed in amazement. “That’s what you want for your birthday, is it?” he chuckled.
“Yeah,” I nodded, a smile on my face. “Yeah, you can put that on my list.”
“Prove it.”
“How?”
“Masturbate for me.” I didn’t know whether he really wanted proof, or whether he just fancied another look at what he undoubtedly enjoyed most in our relationship. I didn’t mind either way, so I agreed and placed my hand between my legs, far under our thick covers where he couldn’t see it. I looked deep into his eyes, and got to work. At this proximity it didn’t take long before I was shaking uncontrollably inches from his face, my eyes shuddering and my mouth open as I whispered my desire for him.
“That was quick,” he observed as I took in some deep breaths.
“That’s because you’ve trained me so well,” I reminded him, and that seemed to register on his face. I finally asked him for his decision, because at the end of the day his decision was what mattered to me.
He stayed still, thinking it over, before he turned to me at last with a thoughtful air. “Ellie, you know that when we first met, I wasn’t very… experienced,” he said quietly. I knew, but that was so long ago I wondered why he was bringing it up. “I hadn’t met many girls before you. I still might meet plenty after you, but I know, I just know, that none of them are ever going to ask for a visit to a dominatrix for their birthday, and then jerk off to earn it.” He grinned at me and announced, “Yeah, I’ll do it.” He reached forward and kissed me, and I could barely contain myself from screaming my delight out loud.