Angie was visibly shaking when she got into my car outside her house. I hadn't told her our destination for the afternoon; she just knew that something other than her usual bedroom session was in order. While I backed out of the driveway she stared at her hands quietly, darting a glance at me every once in a while with her pretty brown eyes. She wore a very thin summer dress and I left the air conditioner off, hoping she would start to sweat under the hot afternoon sun.
"Master," Angie started, "I--"
"Shut up," I told her. Another point against her. My subs aren't supposed to call me "Master". I guess she wanted to impress me with her obedience, another sign of her guilt. About ten minutes later she tried again."
"I'm sorry," she told me, a tear or two sliding down her face.
"If you speak again," I said, "I'll take you back home and we'll never see one another again."
Angie began to cry quietly but said nothing. I really don't enjoy terrorizing a woman, but in this case I thought it necessary. About six weeks earlier I'd discovered that Angie had been playing with another man, an act strictly forbidden in our agreement. I'd found out while talking to Angie via an Internet chatting system -- she'd accidentally sent me a message intended for her other lover. She probably realized what she'd done as soon as she hit the Enter key, but by then it was too late. Now she'd been waiting for a month and a half to find out what I'd do.
Our rule against playing with other doms or people isn't based simply in possessiveness or ego. Fact is, sex just isn't safe anymore. Angie understood that she was free to dissolve our relationship at any time if she wanted to take up with someone else, however, I wouldn't expose myself or my other partners to some anonymous computer geek.
After a half hour of driving we were out of the city and pulling up to the garage outside my best friend's ranch. He owned a huge expanse of land, nicely bordered by forest and mountains. Most days the place was crawling with tourists and fifth grade classes going horseback riding, but today the house and stable were pretty much deserted.
"Now," I said, shutting off the car. "You're a very lucky girl. Today you get to make a decision for yourself."
"Yes, sir," Angie said. She'd stopped crying but hadn't taken off her seatbelt.
"I've had a talk with your friend about the value of close relationships and protecting oneself. Luckily for you, he agreed to help us out by giving up a little blood in the Memphis health clinic." Angie looked up, puzzled, and I finally started enjoying the afternoon's adventure.
"According to the great Dr. Anonymous, your friend is clean as a whistle and in great health. With that in mind, I've decided to let you choose between playing with him and belonging with me."
It took a moment for this to sink in, then Angie grabbed my arm with both hands. "I'm sorry, sir," she said, the tears starting up again. "I want to be with you; I promise it won't happen again!"
"You realize if you choose me you're in for some pretty hefty punishment, don't you?" I gently removed Angie's grip from my arm while she nodded.
"Not to mention retribution for the favor that I now owe your ex-boyfriend?"
Angie nodded again, still crying. Her dress was quickly becoming plastered to her body; the relentless heat combined with her nervous tension was doing a wonder on the thin material. I was getting uncomfortable in the hot car, though, so I decided to move our small reunion party inside.
"In the stable, sir?" asked Angie. The sweet smell of hay and the dank odor of animals surrounded us immediately as we walked into the dim barn. I stepped carefully, of course. Trodding in horse shit is definitely un-domly.
My friend, the rancher, met us as we strolled through the stable. "All set up for ya," he said, then spat a dark glob of something into the shadows. I guess doms and ranchers see dignity in an entirely different way.
"Thanks," I said. "We should be done in an hour or two. By the way, are any of your stallions particularly horny?"
Angie gasped while my friend hee-hawed his way out of the stable. Bestiality's not my kink, but Angie's thinking was a bit distraught at the time.
A small room near the back of the stable had been arranged for my session with Angie. In the center of the room a large block of hay supported a small saddle. From the walls hung all sorts of fun-looking farm implements, including a coiled-up bullwhip of some length. I caught Angie eyeing the eighteen feet of leather rather nervously.
