Part X
Going this slow with her took every ounce of will power I had, and yet I knew I
had to do it, had to begin realigning her mind, begin teaching her, training her
what behaviors led to what reactions and what responses from me. Sure, I had
been training her during our time together which, to this point, had consisted
of purely online means, email, instant messenger, and chat rooms. Basically, I
imposed certain punishments when she purposefully disobeyed me, or she neglected
to do something that I had asked, or she had failed to use proper etiquette. But
I was never sure if she told me everything, every time she failed, and I was
never sure of the motivations behind her failures, or if her failures were in
fact failures or something that she merely claimed as a failure to achieve the
desired attention from me.
In truth, training is so much more than that, than mere actions. It begins in
her mind, how she thinks about things, how she views things, the progression of
her thoughts. It's an agonizingly slow process, training a submissive. If done
correctly, and if done thoroughly, yes, it would take time, but it would also
last. And that's what I wanted more than anything. I wanted it to last, to
endure, to stick with her. I didn't want to go through this again; it was hard
enough staying focused now and I was just beginning.
I envisioned a scenario that included a life together, her kneeling by my side,
both my companion and my submissive, spanning decades. That scared me, I will
admit and I thought of all the reasons why it wouldn't work out, couldn't
possibly work out. I thought of society's censure, I thought of our families'
reactions if they found out, and they were bound to at some point catch a whiff
of something in the air. How could they not?
And then I saw her...struggling as the drool trailed down her face...saw the
waver in her eyes...saw the trembling of her limbs...felt her crack and begin
the tumble that I had waited an eternity to see. And all those thoughts fled
from my head...gone in a sudden poof that stole my very breath away, and the
future didn't seem like such an improbability, or if it did, it didn't matter,
for in that moment, I knew without a doubt, that I would move whatever mountains
stood in our way; I wanted this, I needed this, I lived and breathed for this,
for her.
That knowledge gave me peace and that peace in turn gave me the strength to slow
down, to do what I needed to do, to begin working on the future right from this
moment; it was worth the effort it would cost me now. I couldn't put it off. She
would expect, demand and need consistency from me, need me to be strong, steady
and reliable...worthy of her submission. I couldn't back up later and change the
rules...she was a smart one...she would exploit every loophole I left for her.
And I didn't blame her. I should have to work for it, for her, just as she
should work for it, for me, too. Oh, and she would. She would. I could guarantee
that much.
And so began the climb into her psyche, the intricate web of female thought and
rationale. I started slow and easy, associating the words "pleasure" and
"reward" with sensual contact with her "high" erogenous zones, where she ached
the most, her breasts and her hot, wet feminine tunnel. I really doubt that she
was aware of what I was even doing or if she even heard me, made sense of what I
was saying in soft whispers to her. But I knew that somewhere deep down inside
of her, a part of her would eventually put it all together. The mind is very
resourceful that way...it finds a way to get what it wants and needs and then
exploits it. That's how behavior is learned. What I hoped was that it would be
too late for her to do anything about it, that the behavior and the reward would
already be so deeply instilled in her that it would become second nature,
something she did without conscious thought.
Her body was responding to me at the moment, and I was stunned, in awe, at the
beauty she presented as she lay there...arching, moaning, twisting,
grumbling...yes, even behind her gag, she was grumbling when I skated past an
area she really wanted me to touch. It was endearing...and it was sexy as hell.
I didn't know how much longer I could hold out. I knew that I wanted to hold
out, but the mind is willing and the spirit weak. I had never felt this rush of
power before, this adrenaline fueled sexual haze...and it was trying to pull me
under. The future, I kept reminding myself, the future.
My hands continued their slow, sensuous torment of her, my voice softly
whispering to her, encouraging her responses, stoking her flames ever higher. I
knew she was so close to release...but I knew, too, that I was purposefully
avoiding the full on contact she needed to get there. I could have laughed, but
I was just as close to the edge as she was, close to exploding and spilling my
seed like an inept, inexperienced teenager the first time in the back seat of
the car.
But all of these touches, all of her responses, all of my thoughts of the
future, of what this moment foretold pushed all other thoughts out of my mind
and I couldn't formulate a cohesive plan for this night...I couldn't seem to get
past the thought of me plunging deep inside of her, feeling her close around me,
accepting me, yielding to me. I was close to losing control of the
situation...and I didn't know how to get it under control. I needed to step
away...to get some distance and gather myself back in. But how could I do that
and still further my cause? I was not experienced enough to keep myself this
tightly reined in while touching the very body that I wanted to lose myself in.
It was too heady, the feelings too new for me to do that.
Dom's are supposed to have all the answers. But I didn't. I didn't. How? How?
How? And then it came to me...and as the answer came to me, so did the truth.
Dom's didn't have any more answers than anyone else. I was beating myself up for
nothing. How could I regain control of a situation rapidly spinning out of
control? By going back to basics and then tailoring those basics to fit my needs
and my desires. The situation at its most rudimentary...I was the Dom, she was
the submissive. She was in my control. Mine. She was here to please me. That was
her function, her job...and, lucky for me, her need. And what did I want at this
moment? To play with her. Oh yes, that's what I wanted.
I smiled and felt my world right its self again. Play with her. Yes. That's what
I wanted to do. I felt confidence infuse me. I knew her; I knew this beautiful
spirit that was giving herself to my care. I knew her well. That's why we waited
this long to meet...so that we would know and we would trust. Limitations and
expectations? We had hashed them out at length, exhausted them many times over.
I knew them by heart, could recite them in my sleep. So why was I mired in self
doubt at this late stage of the game? I shook my head. Nerves, pure and simple.
I sat back and removed my hands from her and just watched her for a few moments.
I watched her blink and then open confused eyes and look at me dazedly. I heard
the small, plaintive whimper...it was muffled and a bubble formed at the corners
of her mouth as the spittle began to congregate there again. She payed it no
heed, just continued to plead with her big, blue eyes, to pant and moan in
frustration, to lift and lower her chin slightly at me, trying to draw me back
to her.
I stood up and looked down at her. My heart was full...at peace, yes, but
definitely full. I ran a hand gently over her tummy, letting my fingers barely
graze her flesh and sighed in wonder at the goose bumps that dotted her flesh in
the wake of my touch. I tweaked her nose, suddenly and quickly and chuckled at
her astonished and bemused expression. Her "mmph" got decidedly more ornery and
more pronounced. She was a demanding little cuss, my little slave. It was time
to teach her a little patience, perhaps...and time to wet my whistle.
I bent down to the toy bag and retrieved a vibrator...not just any vibrator
either, but her favorite: the g-spot vibe with the soft, skin like texture. At
least I had done one thing right: I had made her mail me all of her toys a week
before this meeting, 1...so that she couldn't pleasure herself with them, and
2...so that I could take stock of them and use them without having to stop and
ask her where she put them. That would have killed the mood and anything I did
to her...I wanted to be a surprise. I turned it on and tested out the batteries.
I was relieved that it whirred to life. I had not thought to bring any with me.
I would correct that lack of foresight in the future....ah, yes...the future. It
was looking brighter with every passing moment.
I stood up and held it before her. It was amazing how quiet the room became as
she looked at her favorite toy, held for the first time in my hands. Her
"mmphing" faded off and her eyes got big and round and I watched her begin
sucking on the ball gag. I would wonder at that, why at some moments she would
suck harder on it, like a pacifier and at some moments she was content to let it
rest quietly in her mouth. Mentally I shrugged. I lowered the speed of the vibe
to its lowest setting and positioned it.
I stroked her lips with it, moistening it with her own juices, of which there
was plenty. I tapped her clit a few times and that was met with arching and
rather loud garbled sounds. I didn't fail to notice the drool trail forming
again, but I was happy to see that she seemed oblivious to it. I toyed with her
a little bit more and then slid the vibe into her slick passage. She groaned as
I worked the vibe a bit and when she squealed the loudest, I knew that I had
positioned it correctly and it was resting against the infamous G-spot for which
it was designed.
She groaned low and deep as it settled within her to do its work. I walked over
to the head of the bed and took the cool cloth from the nightstand. I washed her
face lovingly and kissed her forehead.
"Don't go anywhere. I'll be back in a moment."
She frowned and squinted at me. I chuckled and patted her head.
"That's a good girl."
Her "mmph" echoed loudly in the room as I turned, chuckling and went back out
into the main sitting area. I made sure to close the door behind me and then
collapsed in a heap in the comfortable wing back chair by the fire. I untied my
shoes and wiggled my toes and then stretched them out on the ottoman. Distance?
I had just learned an easy way to kill two birds with one stone. Control? It was
mine...for as long as she submitted to me, it was mine.
***
He was slowly driving me insane. I couldn't take it any more. I needed release
so badly that I could taste it. Every nerve ending in my body was on fire...not
simmering, not smoking, but blazing out of control. Any minute now, I was going
to come undone, lose the tightly held control that I was so proud of. And he
seemed to be enjoying it. My mind silently screamed at him: Come a little
closer, cup my breasts, impale me and stop talking to me, dammit! Grrrr. Just do
it...touch me, harder! Rub a little faster! Stop playing with me and give it to
me! Now! Please!
My nerves were so tightly drawn that when he pulled my toy up and held it before
me...oh man...I stopped breathing. The sight of him holding my own toy, the toy
that I would be bringing home with me later, it shattered my insides, it took my
breath away, it sent my thoughts spiraling a thousand different directions. It
was my toy, mine. And yet, it was in his hands, he was turning it on, playing
with the settings. It was mine. But it was now his. Just as I was...his.
It touched my sex...lightly, softly, stroking through my folds, up and down,
side to side, in little, tight circles. I gulped. My throat was dry. I was
holding my breath in expectation, anticipation. Finally, I thought...the release
I longed for, desired, needed, desperately craved was within reach. The toy
slide in and my body arched up to meet it, grasped it greedily and held it
close. I groaned in delicious agony as he twisted it around and around and
screamed loudly when it found the hidden sweet spot.
The toy went still and I panted, trying to regain my breath as the humming
settled in, began tormenting me, building up a fire that was already raging
beyond its banks. I felt the cool cloth wander over my face and I shook my head
lightly, the coolness an unwelcome contrast to the heat enveloping me. I wanted
to rush into the fire, jump in with both feet. But his words, as they penetrated
my brain, were like a bucket of ice water, dousing the flames before they knew
real flight.
"Don't go anywhere. I'll be back in a moment."
Don't go anywhere? Huh? Who was he kidding? Where the hell could I go? I tugged
on the restraints in protest. Where was he going? He couldn't just leave me like
this? And his follow up remark, "That's a good girl" combined with a patronizing
pat on the head did nothing but enrage me.
I howled wildly from behind the gag, yelling at him, telling him not to go, to
come back but he did not even slow his step...he walked through the door and
pulled it shut, leaving me quite alone, save for the old friend buried deep
inside me, even now doing the devil's work upon my body.
I felt oddly bereft. I slumped back against the bed with a frown puckering my
brow wondering what he could possibly be doing that was more important than
this. And the longer he stayed away, the worse it got. Each minute seemed a day
in length...they stretched out, one after the other, like a long, lonely
highway. In my mind's eye, I could even see the tumbleweeds drifting across,
fading off into the distance. And still, he did not return.
The vibrator hummed on and on inside and my body responded to its slow rhythm,
edging upwards along the ladder to nirvana. But my mind...my mind didn't want to
accept this, this solitude. I wasn't supposed to be alone. I was supposed to be
in his arms, enjoying this sensation at his hands. And yet, I argued to myself,
this was at his hands, he had put the toy there, had left me here to enjoy its
affects. And I was enjoying it, enjoying it too well actually. But I didn't want
it this way. I wanted him here. Where was he?
Occasionally, I would find myself a little too close to the edge and I would
concentrate on breathing. I would not give him, I vowed, the satisfaction of
reaching orgasm this way, not without his permission, not without him. No, I
wasn't not going to let that happen. I drew very close, several times, but I
closed myself off to it. I could feel the sweat coating my body, could feel the
need and it almost convinced me to let go and give into it. Oh, no. I was not
going to. Not if I could help it!
But...but...why had he not returned? I lay there, in deep need, sometimes
kicking and screaming, sometimes quiet and composed, hovering, wondering,
waiting. The door remained closed. I heard the loud sounds of the TV for a while
and raged at him. How dare he watch a rerun of Star Trek: Next Generation? He
should be enjoying me...Not Captain Picard.
As the time melted away, I began to truly wonder, to doubt, to worry. Had he not
found me pleasing enough? Was I too fat? Too spirited? Was this whole scene just
too much for him to handle? I looked down upon my body and I could see the same
pockets of cellulite that I had seen before. But I was sure that earlier he had
looked at me with desire. Had it been desire? Or had it been me needing to see
desire in his eyes?
Why was he doing this to me? What had I done? How could I make it better? I
needed him here with me. I felt tears prickle my eyes as the waves of pleasure
grew so hot and intense and the combination of the two nearly tossed me over the
edge. I grabbed a lifeline...any lifeline that I could...I grabbed anger. How
dare he leave me alone? How dare he? I began seething and it was enough to
steady me, to push back the climax and the tears. I raged silently at him,
cursing him, his mother, the cruelty of fate. I cursed my chance meeting of him,
and then, it turned back around on me and I cursed my own weaknesses, my own
desires, my own needs.
I'm not sure how it came back to me, but it always did. I would strengthen
myself, and then collapse, and nearly start to cry as I wished and prayed that
he open the door and save me. Yes, save me. I wanted him to come in and save me
from this torment, the mental anguish and anxiety, the physical need that was so
great that I could barely contain it. Everything was closing in around me. I
wanted to see him so desperately. And then the door opened and I saw his
darkened figure advance upon me.
I sighed a relief so great that I could have swooned. He hadn't left me. I knew
that...I think I did anyway. He was here. He would save me. He always did. He
knew what I needed, what I wanted...and he would give it to me. Oh, how I loved
him. He would take care of me. I knew it.
He stroked the hair back from my damp face, loosened the ball gag and pried the
ball out from behind my aching jaw. He wiped my face and I was so happy to see
him that I didn't even balk. I worked out the muscles of my face as he asked me
if I needed anything. Oh, yes, I needed several things. But he knew that. He
knew what I wanted from him.
I felt a whimper come bubbling up. I felt my body arch upwards to him. I turned
pleading eyes his way. The need was so great. I knew what he wanted me to say.
He always wanted me to say it, but I just couldn't. I never could. I could only
let him know with my eyes, with my soft whimpers, with my body what I wanted,
what I needed. I turned my eyes up at him, eyes that I knew were half crazed
with my arousal and I grunted and bobbed my head slowly. I knew he knew,
understood what I was telling him without words. Why wasn't he releasing me?
Why?
I saw the slight narrowing of his eyes. No! No! No! Don't push the issue now!
You know I can't. Oh please, just give me the command to end this, please! But
he wasn't and there was this look in his eyes...my stomach clenched and my heart
sank. I couldn't do this. Dammit, he knew it!
I licked my lips nervously. He was waiting, waiting for an answer and I gave him
one, the only one I could.
"Wa...Water."
I knew right away that I had made a grave error. His eyes narrowed to dangerous
slits and he stalked off, every jerky movement punctuating his wrath. When he
returned, I was half expecting him to dump the water on me, but he held the fury
inside, gently cradling my head and allowing me to drink, to drain the cup dry.
And I was grateful. Wearing the gag for as long as I had, had created a terrible
thirst and finally, I had some relief. It just wasn't the kind I really needed.
His anger radiated off of him, rolled over me in waves and though I wanted to
give him what he needed, I just couldn't do it. It was as if some perverse demon
had sealed my lips shut and I was incapable of it. No matter how much I wanted
to and how much I tried, I couldn't get the words that would have right this
moment, would have filled his needs and mine out. He bent down, turned the vibe
that used to be my trusted friend but was now my worst enemy up to half speed
and left the room, leaving the door wide open.
My heart broke. Come back! Wait! I wanted him, needed him so desperately. What
was wrong with me? Why couldn't I say the words? I wanted to, Lord knows I did.
I heard the channel surfing and the staticy click click click as the channels
rolled up one at a time, and that undid me. I didn't want to be a channel that
he passed by, I wanted to be one he tuned to, he watched to the bitter end.
I began crying, the toy humming stronger, breaking down my walls, pushing me
with alarming speed off the edge of the cliff. I couldn't contain it any longer.
I needed him. I needed his arms, his strength. I wasn't going to make it. The
dam burst and I thrashed and wailed as I felt my independence vanish and felt my
need take center stage, take importance over pride. I said the words, softly at
first and then with growing vigor as fear, not of giving in as before, but of
not being able to last without him, took hold.
Please hurry, I begged and begged and begged. Oh, I hated him for bringing me to
this point. But I needed him. I needed him. Now!
***
How long should I wait? 10 minutes? 15 minutes? 30 minutes? An hour? I didn't
know, wasn't sure. Time had slowed down to an interminably slow crawl. I could
only imagine how it felt to her, all alone with only her chains and her toy to
keep her company.
I picked up the remote and turned the TV on, cranking up the volume quite
loudly. For some devilish reason, I wanted her to hear it, to lay there and
wonder when I would return to her, wonder why I was choosing the TV over her. I
wanted her to fall prey to her own self doubt, break down her self confidence,
shatter her pride.
The TV was just a way to distract myself, to keep me in the chair. I wasn't
choosing it over her charms, and they were ample, let me tell you. I hated every
minute of the sitcom, hated every commercial. I wanted nothing more than to rush
back to her, to replace that toy with my own aching flesh. I didn't want to
waste this night by being strict or teaching lessons. I wanted to spend it
exploring every inch of her body and learning all of its secrets. I wanted to
spend the night loving her.
I turned the TV down, it probably had served its purpose and I didn't feel the
need to be unnecessarily cruel and mocking. But I did feel the need to make her
wait, to build her longing until it surpassed mere longing and reached need,
blinding and inescapable need. My little slave had a slight pride issue and it
had always bothered me. I hoped I was going about it in the right way. She
needed to learn how to let it go and just give in. She still refused to beg,
hell, beg? She still had problems asking me for permission to cum.
On the phone, she stubbornly resisted asking, pleading for the release I could
clearly hear she needed. She held out, kept climbing higher and higher until I
couldn't stand it and ordered her to cum, which she only too happily did. She
had no problems cumming on command. But asking for it? Never. Maybe that was a
mistake, a disservice to her. But I couldn't bear to hear her in agony knowing
that only her pride stood in the way. So, she retained some measure of control
and I had let her...time and time again. And I knew that she would try the same
thing here. Why wouldn't she? It had worked well enough to this point. I would
have done the same thing were I in her shoes. Luckily, I was not.
I couldn't allow her that luxury any more. I hoped I was strong enough for her.
I really did. I wanted to be so badly I could taste it. I left the TV on and
rose, thirty minutes had passed. I needed to see where she was at and find out
if I had what it took. I opened the door and approached her. There was a faint
sheen of perspiration marking her brow. Her face was set in a mask of
concentration. Her hips rocked softly and her arms and legs were tensed and
lightly trembling.
My slave needed release...badly. That was patently clear. What wasn't clear,
however, was what she was willing to do to get it. I reached her side. The
entreaty was in her eyes, as I knew it would be. But would it be on her tongue?
"How's my little slave? Simmering nicely, I trust?" I brushed the hair back from
her face, listening to her garbled attempt at speech.
"Hmm? What's that? I can't really understand, dear." My smile grew as she
whimpered and shook at her restraints. I reached over and loosened the strap on
her gag and popped the ball out of her mouth.
"There. That's better. Now, how are you doing? Need anything?" I picked up the
cloth from the nightstand again and bathed the slobber from her face. I was
surprised still at how matter of fact I was taking care of that for her. I had
really thought that it would sicken me, to see her saliva splattering her face,
to wipe it clean. But it hadn't, it just filled me with a warmth I couldn't
name, hadn't expected.
She worked her jaw about, gasping and panting. She looked at me like I was crazy
asking that question, as if the answer was obvious. Well, it was obvious, but
this time, she was going to tell me. She licked her lips and her mouth started
moving and I held my breath. This was it! I was so excited. I couldn't believe
she was going to give in so easily, to give me in person what she couldn't over
the phone. Her voice cracked.
"Wa...water, please, Milord."
Water? Water? My eyes narrowed and I seethed. How stupid and naive I was to
believe that she was ready, that all of a sudden she'd change her tune. I
pivoted sharply, grabbed a plastic cup from the bathroom and filled it with
water from the tap. Water. She wanted water. Her body was screaming for release.
The smell of it hung heavily in the air and all she could ask me for was water?
All doubts as to whether or not I could do what it took were immediately
dispelled. I was actually angry, quite angry.
If water was what she wanted, then water would be what she got. And that's it! I
held it to her lips, cradling her head, my own arms trembling, this time with my
anger. She gulped it greedily, finished the cup off and then I laid her head
back down and placed the cup on the night stand.
Her blue eyes were wide and dilated and they begged me prettily, but her pouty
lips moved not. I crossed my arms over my chest and steeled myself against the
effect she had over me.
"Anything else you need?"
She whimpered and lifted those pleading eyes to mine.
"No? Very well." I reached down and turned the vibrator up to half speed. She
lurched and cried out. But still, she didn't utter the words that I wanted to
hear. No, now I demanded to hear them. I would not be budged this time, pretty
eyes or obvious torment aside. They would not sway me. Not this time. Only her
mouth forming the words would grant her release. The ball was in her court and I
had just served a zinger. Let's see if she had the guts to return it.
"You'll be sure to let me know, won't you?" I looked coolly at her and strolled
from the room. I left the door open this time and was treated to the sounds of
her anguish, of her frustrated moans. I paused on the other side of the door.
But the words were not forthcoming, so I strode back over to the chair and sat
down.
I changed the channel and loosened a few buttons of my shirt. I watched a few
minutes of the new program, what it was I couldn't tell you, seethed and finally
removed the shirt altogether, leaving just a white undershirt. Over the chatter
of the TV I heard, as I was sure she intended, her whimpers, her groans and I
glared at the collar on the mantle. Was it really worth all of this?
