Danis Sub Adventures

It was waiting for me when I got home, a thick cream envelope whose innocent exterior belied the erotic adventures that lay in store for me. I dropped my bag and keys and, holding the envelope like a prized possession, went into my study, eager to read my instructions from Sir. Sinking into the cosy armchair, I curled up, opened the envelope and removed a sheet of paper.

The quality of the paper had lead me to expect beautiful handwriting, elegant, slanting loops. What I got was far from that. A scrawl was the best description; this would take some deciphering, though disappointingly it was brief a couple of paragraphs only.

Dani,

I have considered your request, and am minded to grant you your desires. But before I do so, you should know that once you commit to this path with me there is no going back: obedience is essential.

Know too that I will push you to your extremes, mentally and physically. You will not be in any danger, but there is no shame in backing out. Think carefully, and if you decide to let me take you in hand you should wear your new blue dress as signal of acceptance.

You have five days, after which the offer ends.

M

Getting to the end, my heart rate had sped up and my breaths were coming short and fast. There wasn't a flicker of doubt in my mind: I was in, and I couldn't wait. I was ready for whatever M had in store for me, I wanted this to start already.

I got up and poured myself a glass of red wine, then settled back into the chair to reread the letter and daydream about what might be in store for me, and to ponder on the mystery of precisely who M was. As I thought, my hand trailed down, idly unpopping the buttons of my blouse and stealing under the silky material to touch the skin on my chest, the lace of my bra and then the hard erect nubs of my nipples. Sipping my wine I slowly teased myself with little circles and flicks before lifting a breast out of the bra cup and squeezing my own nipple

A flame of lust flared as I imagined my hands were M's, that is was M's hands that were giving me pleasure, turning me on and the cause of the wetness in my knickers. I pinched my nipple harder, my body shivering with the strange pleasure I get from pain being inflicted on me. My other hand pulled my skirt up and slipped into my knickers, seeking out the heat of my clit. It didn't take long before I came, my orgasm rolling through my body, leaving all my muscles relaxed and a smile on my face.

****

The next morning as I got dressed in my new blue dress, snipping the tags out, I paused, a thought coming to me: how did M know about this dress? It was new, I hadn't worn it yet. And I'd got it online, not from a shop. I'd tried it on to check the fit, but surely no one could have seen me in it? I cast my mind back, trying to recall if the curtains had been open or closed, but however hard I concentrated I couldn't bring those details back to mind. With a huff of annoyance I decided that the curtains must have been open. So, M had been watching me, then? That was creepy, wasn't it? But then why was I feeling a tendril of arousal?

I sat on my bed, thinking, biting my lip. Did I really want to go ahead with this project? Had I really thought this through properly?

I remembered the day, a couple of months ago, when I finally pressed "Publish" on my post.

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It was something I had been thinking about for a while, after my last relationship had come to an end. Greg was a gentle, loving, caring partner but I had found myself wanting more, in ways that Greg just wasn't set up to meet. I needed a bit of friction in my life - someone to challenge me as well as support me, someone who could push buttons I only vaguely realised I had: a need to obey, to be controlled and directed, to submit.

I did some research, and found a kink website that allowed connections to be formed, and posted my ad.

Needless to say, I got a lot of responses, but I whittled them down to a couple of options with whom I chatted further, discussing my experiences, my needs, my hopes and desires, and their ideas of how they would help: scenarios posited for me to consider. Both were absolutely clear that nothing would happen without my consent. In the end, though, M had the edge, as they lived in the same city as me, and their sense of humour gelled with mine - our online chemistry was just better.

M's proposal was that we'd agree online what concepts I would or wouldn't be comfortable with, but that the details would be up to M to devise. M said that they would set me some tasks to perform to demonstrate my ability to obey, and show me what sort of a submissive I was. M said that the tasks would all be of a sexual nature, but that in addition they would set out some non-sexual rules and activities that I had to comply with too. Of course we agreed a safe word that I could use to stop things at any time.

My reminiscing reassured me that I would be safe with M's plans, that I trusted M and that I did want this very much. I got up, smoothed down my dress and headed out to work, butterflies of anticipation fluttering inside me.

****

For once I was glad that the shop was quiet, because I was distracted by thoughts of what would happen next, and couldn't focus on my work, wishing the hours to sped by so I could get home and start my journey of sexual discovery as a sub. Inevitably time dragged, as it always does when you are waiting for a longed for event. Eventually, after what felt like a lifetime, closing time arrived and I could finally escape home and excitement.

Nothing. There was nothing waiting for me at home.

I rationalised my disappointment: I was expecting too much, after all I had only signalled my acceptance this morning, M didn't have time to immediately start training me. Tomorrow, it would happen tomorrow.

Three days later my nerves were at breaking point. M still hadn't sent me any instructions, and my attempts to contact them online had been fruitless. But as well as my nerves, my levels of arousal were constantly high. I was dressing to my mental image of a sub - think Maggie Gyllenhaal in The Secretary, all sexy black lace underwear, stockings and suspender belt under my professional clothes, paired with heels an inch higher than I would normally wear. I'd decided against seamed stockings, though: getting the seam straight was too much like hard work, but now, after four days, I was starting to reconsider that idea. I knew that M must be watching me - they themselves had indicated that by the use of the blue dress signal. Maybe they wanted the overt imagery of the seams?

Getting ready in the morning was now a sensual experience, putting on my lacy knickers and bra, sliding stockings up my legs and attaching them to the fiddly fasteners. Walking I could feel the tightness of the suspender belt around me, the tension of the straps against my thighs as I moved. It was a constant reminder of my sexual self, and I was hyper-aware of my body.

I imagined that anyone looking at me could tell what I was wearing. An incident just this morning on my way to work had put that into mind: I'd sat down on the tube, and was getting my kindle out to read my book during the commute when I realised that a business man opposite me was looking at me oddly. I quickly checked to make sure that my top was decently buttoned up, and then realised that my skirt had ridden up when I sat down. Not much, but just enough to show the lace top of one stocking. Flushing with embarrassment I was about to adjust my skirt when I remembered an exchange I'd had with M, whilst we were exploring my sexual preferences. M had asked if I was exhibitionist at all, to what extent I enjoyed people looking at me, and whether I would enjoy people watching me having sex.

My first reaction had been a squirm of rejection, but then I remembered my time at university, and times when my boyfriend and I had had sex outside. Always discreetly, not where we would definitely be seen, but certainly there had been the potential that someone might stumble upon us, fucking under a canal bridge, my hands against the brick wall as he took me from behind with my skirt bunched above my hips, knickers stretched taut; or in a little copse deep in the woods, a rug below me and a view of tree-tops and sky above, whilst he knelt between my legs, licking and sucking me. Remembering those occasions, with the added frisson of the risk factor, my cunt and clenched and I'd started talking about agreeing to some exhibitionist behaviour.

Catching the eye of the man across from me, I left me skirt where it was, and moved my hand to my lap, letting my little finger caress the visible lace and edge the bottom of skirt a little higher. The man dropped eye contact, instead watching the small movements of my finger. I smiled to myself when I saw him drop his folder copy of Metro into his lap to hide the erection I'd already seen.

I thought about opening my legs but decided against it, and channelled Sharon Stone in Basic Instinct, crossing my legs as sexily as it is possible on a London Underground train (I was wearing knickers, I hasten to add here!) and pretended to read my book whilst in actual fact my attention was on the man's reactions as well as my own. Getting to work that morning I went straight to my office to wank furiously, the mental image of the stranger's eyes on my body making me cum in record time.

And now I was heading home, demurely this time, and hoping so hard that there would be some message from M tonight. Unlocking and pushing open the front door I heard something drop onto the floor. Finally! Another letter: my first instructions, surely?

It wasn't a letter but a parcel, hand-delivered, I noticed, and quite thick - enough so that it'd been trapped in my letterbox until I'd disturbed the balance point my moving the door. I resisted the urge to tear it open immediately and cooked then ate supper before taking my wine and the parcel into my study.

Inside was a folded piece of that heavy, luxurious writing paper and a long thin box, a jewellry box. I paused, trying to decide whether to read the letter first or to open the box. The letter, I decided, as M might have instructions about when I should open the box, and the whole point of this adventure was for me to explore how submission and obedience would work for me.

Dani,

I am very pleased at your underwear choices this week, which showed commendable initiative on your part and excellent understanding of what I expect from you. I want you to wear the item in the enclosed box now, at all times.

Some other rules:

-Continue to make appropriate underwear decisions

-You may not touch yourself sexually again unless specifically required to in the task instructions

-You must dress with the curtain open

-Once a day, kneel naked and contemplate what it means to be submissive and obedient

Lastly, I am glad you enjoyed yourself this morning: send me details of what happened to make you need to masturbate so urgently. To motivate you: I will not be sending you instruction on your first task until I have received your account.

M

I put the letter down and opened the box. Seeing what lay inside my breath caught and I was momentarily motionless in shock. I'd hoped for a collar, but this, this was not what I'd expected. I had thought only of heavy leather collars, inches wide and imposing. But then I had only thought of wearing those collars inside, not at all times which (I double checked the instructions) was what M required of me.

The box contained a metal choker, made up of beautiful links like chain mail with an O-ring in the centre. It was narrow - not even a centimetre wide, and a surprising mix of delicate strength. I frowned. There was something odd about the necklace: no clasps. I looked in the box again, and saw an envelope. I lifted it out, puzzled over it's unexpected weight, clearly it held more than just another letter. Opening it I saw a padlock and a pair of keys as well as a slip of paper with some more scrawled words from M.

Dani,

Use the padlock to fasten the collar. Keep one key on you at all times, in case you need to take the collar off for whatever reason. The other is a spare.

I hope you like the collar.

M

Okaayy, I breathed to myself. Well, the choker is pretty discreet, so it's not like customers will realise what it symbolises. The padlock, though, that's more obvious. Hopefully it will be hidden by my hair. I can do this. Wearing a collar is something I've been fantasising about for ages after all, and it is the first instruction that M has given me; if I can't bring myself to wear this necklace there's no way I'll be able to do anything else M tells me to do.

Having settled myself to wearing it with the padlock I threaded one end of the necklace onto the shackle of the lock, then reached around my neck, fumbled the other end into place and then pushed the shackle closed. It was cold against my skin, the weight of the padlock pulling the chain snug against the base of my throat. It felt good and, checking my reflection in the mirror, looked great, and way sexier than a leather collar would have been.

My hand touching the chain, playing with the O-ring, I went back to the letter and my instructions. Noting the rules, which seemed easy enough excepting only the curtains open whilst dressing requirement, I reread the bit about my morning. How did M know about that wank in my office? Clearly they must have set up a camera, like we'd discussed and agreed, but when? I recalled the terms of agreement about cameras: I'd agreed only in my office at work and my study at home. This was a test of my trust in M and whether they had put cameras elsewhere. I could look in other rooms, and allow doubt into my head or I could be a good submissive and believe in my master and guide, place my trust in M on this and everything else.

For the second time this evening I thought hard about what I truly wanted. Releasing a deep breath I nodded to myself. I did trust them, and was actually starting to feel comfort that they were watching over me, monitoring my behaviour and responses to make sure that I was safe and still consenting.

As I mentally committed to trusting M it was as if I also recommitted more deeply to the whole experience, and my body and mind reacted settling into a state of relaxation; the knowledge that I was surrendering control to someone else didn't stress me out, it eased me into a good space. Is this a type of "sub-space" I wondered. Well, if it was, I liked it and looked forward to going deeper into this feeling.

Speaking of which: I had to write-up my story about the events of this morning and send it to M. I grabbed my laptop and started typing.

*****

A frustrating week followed, during which I struggled to obey the edict not to touch myself. I hadn't realised how often I wanked, nor how much it served to loosen me up. I was in an almost constant state of arousal and longing to cum. And then, at least, there was a familiar envelope waiting for me. Once I was settled in the study I opened the letter. I was getting used to the scrawl: reading it was a hell of a lot easier now.

Dani,

Thank you for your delightfully titillating account of your tube encounter. I am pleased that you enjoyed your toe-dip of exhibitionism, and shall be sure to plan to explore this over the tasks I set you. I keep in mind our scope of consent: you need not worry about that.

For your first task I chose to keep it simple, easy for you to complete and, I trust, intensely pleasurable for you as well.

You will explore the joys of ice play. Buy a bag of ice - you will need more than you can make in a freezer for this game. You will carry out this task in your study; you will carry all tasks in the study unless otherwise instructed. You are allowed to cum during this task but you are not allowed to touch yourself with anything but the ice. You may hold the ice with cloth to protect your fingers, but only your fingers.

To help you, I have some suggestions on what you might wish to do with the ice, but please do be creative too.

Run pieces of ice over your body, from top to toe. You should think about all parts of your body, and especially the areas with sensitive skin: your elbows, knees, neck, armpits. Keep it moving until your body is tingling.

Then you can focus on lingering with the ice, holding it to your nipples and pushing a piece or two into your arse.

Finally you can masturbate with the ice. Remember though, that you can only touch your body with the ice. No cheating!

Enjoy the experience

M

My body was alive with anticipation. I checked my watch, seeing if I had time to make a run to the supermarket for some ice but decided against it; I wanted to take me time with this, build up my arousal so that I could take full advantage of the permission to cum I had just been granted.

On my way home the following evening I swung by the supermarket and picked up a bag of ice, adding some odds and ends so my basket didn't look too strange at the check-out. Getting to my house I gathered together what I'd need: towels to protect the floor, a large bowl holding the ice and a couple of cloths to protect my fingers from frostbite! I'd already turned the heating up so that any shivering would be down to the ice I was about to torment myself with.

Standing in the study I stripped off and knelt down on the towel. Reaching out I took an ice cube from the bowl and touched it to my neck. The cold of it against my skin tensed me up and had to breath out before I could move again. Gathering myself I slowly moved the piece of ice over my body, finding my focus of attention shrinking to the narrow focus of where the ice met my skin. As I moved it over my body the ice brought my blood to the surface and set me tingling. The longer I spent teasing myself the more turned one I became.

I was controlling myself from applying the ice to my nipples or clit too soon, because, however much I need to cum, I wanted to take my time over it. But this was getting too much, too soon. I could feel myself losing control, my body responding to the external sensations and my own mind's hyper-responsive state. Exerting myself I pulled back from the brink, rocking my body as I tried to slow my breathing and calm down.

Thinking about my options, I leant forward and grabbed a large cube of ice and leant forward, reaching my arm behind, sliding the ice over my right thigh and hip then over my arse cheeks before running it down my crack to tease my anus. Holding my cheeks apart with one hand I pushed the tip of the ice against the tight hole, inching it in then let the force of my sphincter push it out again. I repeated this several times, my body tense with the anticipation and pleasure before I pushed it all the way. Letting out a gasp of surprise I focused on the sliver of ice in my body, muscles clenching around it. Anal play wasn't something I had done much of, and it shocked me how much I had enjoyed it. I reached for another piece, and repeated the motions over the left side of my body, before pushing it in to join the first. The sensation of the two pieces of ice in my arse was exquisite, coupled with a voice in the back of my mind telling me that I was crazy to be enjoying this so much, that this was all sorts of kinky and that I should stop. Embracing the inner kinkster I was discovering hid in me, I pushed a third ice cube into me.

I was so full, full of burning coldness sliding inside me, loving the feelings that I could feel the first waves of an orgasm building. Panting again, to stop from coming I picked up a couple of freezing cold cubes to use on my nipples. I brought myself upright and pulled my shoulders back so my boobs would stand out proudly from my body. Looking down as I did, I brought the ice to my nipples, already hard from arousal, and circled them around the aureolae, watching as they puckered in response to the ice. After several circles I stopped, and held the cubes against my nipples, now almost painfully hard. I felt a small gush of liquid from between my legs, as my cunt reacted to my need for release, and pushed my boobs harder against the ice, shifting slightly from left to right and moaning with pleasure.