Attitude Adjustment: Part II

[Epicurean]

The second part of my story. These parts are divided into three sections each, so I'm keeping them as separate threads - if that's wrong then they can be merged, I suppose.



1

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.

[Epicurean]

2

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.

[Epicurean]

3

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.


To be concluded....

[Epicurean]

Double post, nothing to see here....

[Suthernlady]

Excellant!

[Suthernlady]

Congrats on being selected as our featured story of the week for February 21 through 27! Kudos darlin!

[Scorpio8]

Congrats on your selection this week.

A nicely crafted tale in all regards.

Thank you for the time and effort you placed
into the creation of it.

[Epicurean]

I haven't finished the story just yet! But thanks kindly to those who chose it as story of the week, I just hope the last part isn't a let-down for anyone....

[Scorpio8]

I imagine it will be a grand conclusion as the style of
writing really brings out the characters and puts the reader
into their frame of mind.

I think in this case it's much more than just an erotic
tale but rather a telling of what makes these characters
tick, who they are and what they hold within them.

This is exceptional work and something I think to be
quite proud of.

[sexy83]

Very good story