Anything You As

"I'll do anything for you," Steven proclaimed.

Kathleen whipped her head around expecting to see a cocky smile on his face. Instead, she was surprised by the sincere, almost pleading look in his eyes. She turned back to the computer before answering him, but she watched his reaction reflected in the monitor.

"Anything, Steven? What does that mean, exactly?"

"It means anything, anything you ask." His face didn't break into a smile and the yearning look intensified.

"Then don't go to Texas."

"All right, I won't!"

He was still dripping from his recent shower. He held a towel around him but didn't hold the corners together at his hip. Instead, he held them under his belly button. He shifted his feet on the floor. It was a silly pose that hid nothing. In fact, his genitals swung freely in the gap.

Kathleen waited. She waited and stared at the opening of his towel. They had finished making love half an hour ago. It wasn't cataclysmic. Both had reached orgasm because of familiarity of what worked. It was unsettling. Of course they still loved each other, but she feared that routine might soon lead to boredom, and Kathleen never wanted to be bored. She looked at his penis, all nestled cozily in moist pubic hair, and wished for something more, something exciting, something that would make them both hungry again.

"Of course you'll go to Texas, Steven. It's work and you have no choice."

"I can call this trip off, Kathleen. I can and I will, if you ask me to."

"No, Steven. I'm not going to ask that."

"All right, then ask something else. Anything. I meant it when I said I would do anything for you."

Kathleen's mind raced. She'd fostered a fantasy lately of just that, a fantasy that had Steven submitting to her every whim and desire. He would be her slave. How delicious it all sounded! She smiled devilishly before turning around to face him. He'd just given her the perfect thing to spice up their sex life. And she would use it.

She sashayed over to him and ran her fingertips down the center of his naked chest, then slipped her hand between the gap in the towel. She found his balls, dewy from the heated shower, and cradled them gingerly in the palm of her hand, like fresh, fragile eggs. She nuzzled close to his neck and inhaled the male scent of a clean shave, and she pressed her lips on his earlobe as she huskily whispered:

"Anything at all Steven? Are you very sure?"

"Yes, oh god yes!" His voice was shaky. His penis jerked alive, bobbing against her fingers, waiting impatiently for her hand to leave his balls. Her gentle hold suddenly became rigid. Her nails scraped against his sac and then dug beneath it. Pinching the skin, she squeezed tightly, holding both testicles in a vise-like grip.

"Oh_ my_ god, Kathleen! What_what are you doing?"

Kathleen waited for his cock to dwindle and collapse back against his body. But she was surprised. Instead, it lurched upward, banging its head against her wrist.

"I'm trying to decide if you mean it when you say 'anything,' Steven."

"I did. I mean I do! OK ... OK Kathleen, stop it! It's getting uncomfortable."

"Tell that to your penis, honey. It seems to like it!"

"KATHLEEN! I mean it! STOP!"

The more he protested the harder his dick became. Kathleen squeezed until her fingers hurt. Steven dropped the towel and grabbed her wrist, and she finally loosened her grip. She soothed his balls with soft little pets.

"What the hell was that all about, Kathleen?"

"I was just testing to see if your definition of anything was the same as Webster's."

Kathleen patted his balls like an aunt patting a child's head and then walked back to her computer. She ignored his "hands on hips, answer me" pose and pretended to be engrossed in her work.

"Damn it, Kathleen! I meant it when I said, 'ask anything,' but you didn't ask. You just grabbed hold and went for broke."

Kathleen ignored him and began humming as she typed out several sentences with no real meaning.

"Talk to me, Kath. What's this all about? Do you need me to prove something to you?"

She never could ignore him when he called her Kath. He always did it in a little boy, bewildered voice. She twisted around to look at him.

"Steven, do you love me?"

"You know I do."

"Do you trust me?"

"Yes, Kathleen I trust you, but what ..."

"Steven, I want you to mean it when you say 'anything.' Tell me that you do!"

"I don't know what you're asking me."

"Tell me."

"I'll do anything you ask, Kath."

"All right, here's what I want. We both know you aren't going to call off this trip to Texas. We also both know that we could use a little pick me up in the boudoir. So while you're gone I want you to give some thought to being my sexual slave." She surprised herself by coming right out and saying it without hedging or build-up, but she figured she'd need that kind of authority if she were going to make her fantasy come to life.

"Your slave? Is this a joke?" Steven didn't smile, nor was he aware he still stood nude while they talked.

"No, it's not a joke!"

"Just what will I have to do?"

"Anything I ask, of course."

"All right, I'll think about it, but I'm not promising to like it"

"Like I just said Steven, you need to talk it over with your penis. It seems to like the idea of being a slave. I think it's genuflecting!"

They both glanced down at his stiffened rod, which nodded up and down as if in full agreement.

* * * * *

Kathleen woke the next morning and found Steven had already left for the airport. He usually didn't wake her when he had these early morning flights. Last night they tumbled into bed giggling, sharing sweet kisses before turning and saying goodnight. She decided to let Steven ruminate over the idea of being her sex slave.

She rolled over, checked the clock, and saw it was only 7:32. She wanted to stay in bed a little longer. Her mind's eye kept seeing Steven standing in front of her, naked and wet, and it was a picture worth watching a little longer. She thought if he agreed to be her slave, she would want him nude all the time. Some might not consider his body perfect, but by Kathleen's account, it was. She snuggled back down into the covers and drifted back to sleep.

* * * * *

She banged the alarm clock groggily, thinking it was the offending sound in her sleep. And then she realized it was the phone.

"Hello."

"Good morning, Mistress."

"Steven?"

"Did I wake you?"

"Not really. I was just dozing on and off. Where are you? Are you in Texas already? Did you call me Mistress?" The last question was asked with groggy hope.

"I'm at the airport. No, I'm not in Texas yet. And yes, I called you Mistress!" Kathleen could hear the smile in his voice as he spoke.

"Is that supposed to be funny?" She yawned.

"Not really, Kath. I've decided I will be your slave. I'm going to prove to you that I really do mean it when I say I'll do anything for you."

She felt the twitch in her stomach as he spoke. As his words sank in, she lay there, enjoying the sudden heat they sparked. The blankets felt cumbersome, so she kicked them off. The morning sun, peeking through the open blinds, highlighted her naked form against the soft, cotton sheets. She felt warm to the core.

"Kathleen, did you hear me?"

She rolled on to her back and stretched like a feline. "Yes, Steven. I heard you."

"Well, aren't you going to say anything?" He didn't try to hide the disappointment in his voice.

Kathleen was very excited about the possibilities, but she wasn't ready to let Steven know that just yet. So she yawned again and mumbled, "OK, Steven, we'll see how it goes."

His enthusiasm deflated. "Then I guess I'll see you when I get back."

"OK, Steven. Have a good trip." She let silent moments pass, and just as he started to say good-bye, she continued, "Oh, and Steven?"

"Yes?"

"You should know that I'm lying here naked, with my knees up, my legs slightly apart, and my fingers are just about to dip into my pussy."

"God, Kathleen. What a time to tell me that!"

"Does that remind you of anything?"

"Uh-huh."

She recognized his arousal in the tiny crack in his voice and the way the air whooshed out of him. She felt wonderfully powerful.

"Steven, I've decided to begin your enslavement. Promise me you won't masturbate the entire time you're gone."

"Damn it, Kathleen. I've got to go. They're calling my flight."

"Promise me!"

"YES, I promise, I'll call you later, as soon as the plane lands."

"I'll be waiting, expectantly. Now say, 'Good-bye, Mistress'."

"Good-bye, Mistress."

As she hung up the phone, Kathleen knew his compliance was simply a way to end the conversation quickly, but she didn't care. He had said it. She smiled easily and squirmed against the mattress. The whole conversation replayed in her head, and she laughed out loud. Her hands lazily explored her electrolyzed bare skin. Her nipples tingled and hardened beneath her fingertips. She sniggered with her intent; just because she told him not to touch himself didn't mean _she_ couldn't touch _her_self.

And she proceeded to do just that.

* * * * *

The morning housework flew by. Kathleen's spirits soared and even the same tiresome chores seemed exhilarating. She hadn't looked at the clock as she picked up Steven's miscellaneous items strung all over the house, or while she dusted and vacuumed, or even when she tackled the dishes piled high in the sink from last night's dinner. She felt strong and energized, and giggled with the bizarre thought of checking her backside for an Eveready battery pack. Apparently, either a small taste of power or a powerful orgasm was just the thing to spring her into action.

She flopped down on the couch, brushed back the hair clinging to the fine sheen of perspiration beaded up on her face, and then noticed it was getting late. Steven should have called by now. She let a moment of worry about plane crashes be overruled by the idea that he should be punished. Her eyes closed and her head slumped back on the couch. Visions of hot coals, Chinese water torture, and solitary confinement rustled through her brain. Nah, she thought, the goal in her fantasy wasn't to be a sadistic prison guard. Not this fantasy anyway. After all, he'd only forgotten to call. What happens to people when they forget, she wondered? An idea wheedled its way into her head and began to blossom.

* * * * *

Kathleen sat motionless in front of her computer. She'd been at a loss for days now about what her next book should be about. The deadline for the first chapter loomed. The date was boldly circled in brightly-colored gel pen on her desk calendar. She knew her editor was in a panic. She also knew he had shown great restraint in only calling her twice to see how she was doing.

She jumped at the ring from the phone and whispered a silent thank-you for the reprieve from her meaningless dawdling.

"Hello," Kathleen answered.

"Kathleen, look I'm sorry, I was in a rush. Bob Rickman wanted us to meet in Rucker's office as soon as the plane landed. I'm about to go in for another quick meeting before heading over to the hotel. I'll call you from there. OK?"

"Steven?"

"Yes?" His voice was hurried and unfocused. Kathleen knew he was rushed, and she had a twinge of sympathy for him. But she felt the need to set a standard.

"Steven, you were supposed to call hours ago. You said you would and I expected a call. You've kept me waiting, and I think you deserve to be disciplined for it."

"Oh Christ, Kathleen. I said I was sorry."

"Your apology is accepted. But that does nothing to remind you not to let it happen again." She kept her voice soft, nearly a whisper, and devoid of emotion.

"It won't, Kathleen. I've got to go, hon. I need to make a quick pit stop and then to this meeting."

"Steven, even now you've forgotten to call me Mistress. So obviously you _do_ need a reminder."

"Oh, that. Well, I thought that was for play time but_ OK_, Mistress." He slowed when he said 'Mistress', and Kathleen knew she had gotten his attention.

"Steven? When you go to the bathroom for your pit stop, I want you to take a string, or something that you can tie a knot with. After relieving yourself, tie it around the base of your penis and leave it there until you talk to me again."

"Kathleen, I can't do that!" Steven's inflection had the telling tone of attempting to whisper while looking around to see if anyone could hear him.

"'Anything,' Steven. Remember?"

"Yes, Mistress!"

"When will you take it off, Steven?"

"When I call and talk to you later."

"Talk to you soon, Steven. I imagine you won't forget to call when you say you will again!"

Kathleen clicked the phone dead. She felt confident he would do it. He sounded shocked when she first suggested tying something around his penis, but she recognized his interest, and she was pleased with his submissive, "Yes."

* * * * *

Kathleen was plugged in to power. It was stimulating. Too invigorating in fact to sit stoned face in front of the computer. She picked up the phone, dialed Jacey's number, and asked if she wanted to meet for dinner.

Jacey and Kathleen had been friends for years. They could tell each other anything, ask anything from the other, and depended on each other for just about anything. Including a quick dinner at a moment's notice.

As Kathleen entered the diner, she was glad they had agreed upon their regular place. She was in the mood for a burger and fries. She looked around for Jacey, but didn't see her, so slipped into a booth. She purposely found one where she could keep an eye on the clock.

The waitress, Dottie, rambled up to the table, nodded her head with a slight smile of familiarity borne from Kathleen and Jacey's frequent visits.

"You waitin' for your friend?" Dottie wasn't a brain surgeon; in fact she was a typical waitress in a small diner. Her hair was bleached and piled as high on her head as the morning stack of pancakes. She chewed her gum with more zeal than a dehydrated man after water. Her uniform hugged her doughy flesh like a second skin, with stains of most things offered on the menu scattered over it. But she was efficient, and thankfully knew who would be interested in idle chat and who wouldn't. Kathleen had been willing to listen at first, but Dottie had mercifully run out of things to tell her a long time ago.

"Yes, I'll just take an ice tea while I wait."

Kathleen glanced up at the clock. Steven should be getting to the hotel just about now. She'd decided while getting ready for dinner that his little reminder might work better if it was on longer than he had expected. She smiled at the thought of him hurrying into his hotel room, grabbing the phone, anticipating a quick ok for release of his "bind", only to be thwarted by an answering machine.

"Well, you look pleased as punch. Did they finally add something good to the menu around here?" Jacey smirked as she scooted in the opposite side of the booth.

Kathleen laughed, "Not bloody likely!" They picked up their menus, did a once-over, saw nothing new, so closed them. They always chose the same thing, so the menus were superfluous.

"So why the big smile?"

Kathleen wasn't quite ready to discuss what she and Steven were doing. She knew in time she might tell Jacey everything from beginning to end, but right now she wanted it to be just between Steven and herself. It made it more exciting and more intimate. So she made up an answer.

"I was just wondering if Dottie pushed that gum to the roof of her mouth when she gave a blow-job, or does she refuse to give blow-jobs for fear of toppling over from that Tower of Pisa hair she has!"

"Oh my god, Kathleen, you can be so bad sometimes," Jacey chastised. But they both knew it was more of a compliment than a reprimand. "Actually," Jacey continued, "I think she chews the gum as a breath mint after she gives a blow-job."

"Eeew!" they said in unison.

The rest of the evening continued with the same sort of conversation until sandwiches and fries were gone and everyone that came into view was studied and given a nickname. The nickname would be derived by what the two friends would concoct about that person's sex life. Their jaws ached from laughing by the time they were finished.

It was a wonderful, refreshing evening lollygagging with Jacey. Kathleen took fleeting glimpses at the clock, and enjoyed the feeling of authority that escalated as time passed. By the time she had said her good-byes to Jacey outside the diner, three hours had elapsed.

She still didn't hurry home. She went to the post office to drop off some mail, and she stopped for a few groceries. She took the long route home and sang robustly with every song that came on the radio.

The phone was ringing when she walked in the door. She felt the butterflies of excitement fluttering in her stomach.

"Hello?" she answered.

"Where the hell have you been, Kathleen?" Steven sounded frustrated and a little angry.

"Did you miss me, Steven?" She purposely lowered her voice to a seductive echelon.

"I'm sitting here with a god damn tie on my penis. There was no string, so I had to use my silk tie and the thing's been tangled up in my pubic hair more times than I care to count. I had to tie the ends of the damn thing around my waist, to keep it from falling off and it still keeps sliding up and down my cock, rubbing me like an unpracticed school- girl. You know good and well I missed you."

"That's a shame, Steven."

"That's all you have to say? That's a shame?"

"Did it remind you to call me?"

"I've called twelve times in the last four hours, Kathleen! Check the caller ID."

She did a once over on the ID machine and saw that he indeed had called twelve times. The butterflies of excitement gave up their fluttering for a solid pummeling.

"Can an unpracticed school girl still get a rise in a well-practiced penis? Kathleen asked. She couldn't help the escape of a little chuckle.

"In fact, yes, except when she does, the fear of a strangulated tally-whacker dulls the effect," Steven answered jokingly. Sexual banter was a mainstay in their relationship and could always dull any minor irritations.

"Steven, why did I have you tie something around your tally-whacker? And by the way, I can't believe you called it a tally-whacker."

"Because I didn't call. Now can I please take it off? My tally-whacker wants to be free."

"Come on Steven. You have a little more imagination than that, don't you?"

"I supposed you meant it like the old adage of tying a string around your finger to remember something."

"Exactly! Are you sure you still want to be my slave to prove you'll do anything?"

Steven hesitated and then answered cautiously. "Yes, I do, Mistress." His heavy breathing was palpable in his wary agreement.

Kathleen felt the rush of command pipe through her body. She felt vibrant, alive, and sensual. Her voice was breathy and sexy, yet still demanding,

"Steven, take your pants off!"

"They're off, they've been off."

"And your boxers?

"They're off as well."

"Steven, I want you to slowly remove the tie, let the silk drag against the shaft of your penis."

"Damn, Kathleen, you've never acted this way before, it's a real turn-on ... Ahh ..." Steven sucked in his breath. "OK, I am, Mis ..."

"You're not allowed to touch your penis with your hand, Steven"

"Oh, god Kath. You're killing me."

"That hard-on is for me, only for me, and you're not to do anything about it until you're here with me!"

"Then for god's sake, talk about politics or something!"

"Steven, do you think the Washington Monument is as phallic as I do?"

"Very funny!"

"I'm going to hang up now Steven, I'll talk to you tomorrow morning when you call me to wake me up."

"Come on, Kath, you can't leave me like this!"