"Geena, it is time for you to get dressed." He instructed.
He apparently took his seat behind me, observing his handiwork.
I stood up and reached down to my ankles to pull up my panties. I tried to stretch them out beyond my ass in order to avoid the pain of nylon scraping across my throbbing behind. I was not very successful and flinched as I rode them up and in place. In silence I walked over and got dressed.
Instinctively I turned around as if standing for inspection.
"Thank you" I whispered, though immediately I was repulsed by how far I had fallen.
He wiped the tears still on my cheek, then stood back and gazed back at me.
He simply stated, "You look very nice, Geena."
But I heard, "Beauty"...
I want you to know I am a happy and content person. I choose to live my life as I am living it and would not change anything. My desire here is to share my story.
My name is Geena. No, not Gina, that would be normal- my parent's weren't normal, so it had to be Geena. These stories, if you have read them up through now, are the story of my strange journey. The earlier stories and the many that follow will make very clear just how un-normal my life is.
Please don't misunderstand me. I truly love my parents. Even today, when I can look back on my life and find the clues as to why I am so out of the ordinary, I truly love them. After all they created me. Not simply the act of copulation and eventually birthing. That stuff doesn't take much imagination. No, I mean raising children- me, and my little brother for that matter. Now there is where imagination kicks in. I think it took most of my thirty-four years to realize just how unique my life has been.
My Dad's name is Brian. I was never exactly sure what he did for a living, I guess he matched people up who should be doing business together, something like that. I realize now that he did it very well. You know how it is. When you are young, you never really realize whether you are wealthy or poor. You are what you are, and it's just normal. I guess we weren't especially rich, but we were pretty well off. Anyway Dad traveled a lot- he still does.
He was always this guy who would pop in and out of my life, and Mom was the steady everyday influence. Not an especially good one, but always there. Still, Dad was the king of his castle, a strong disciplinarian, clearly in charge. He was a very big guy, always with a stern face. He was a gentle giant, who could transform into a cold despot when the need arose. We all understood that, even Mom, so it was easier to submit to Dad's will. I liked the gentle giant and worked hard to keep him that way.
Kathy, my Mom, is a beautiful lady, a typical southern belle. Prim and proper outside the home, she is a different person within. She is a conventional stay at home mom. In no other way is she traditional. She is submissive to my Dad. And, I would learn later, just as subject to his punishments as we were. But she lorded power over Todd and me more sadistically than Dad- at least early on. Mostly she loves, but in my early years she could change in a heartbeat if she thought she needed to. For her, punishment meant humiliation, more than pain.
Unlike my Mom, I am a professional Lady, with a career, life and friends of my own. But much akin to mom, I choose to fully submit to the man I love, my husband. The depth of my submission is largely unknown to those around me. To most I suppose we simply appear to be very traditional- not so unusual in the Deep South.
Dr. Steven Ross had slowly transformed me from stranger, to colleague, to protégé, and now his submissive. He was a very successful doctor, confident and self assured. I found that all very sexy. He was part of a larger group of business associates, but one I didn't know very well at first. I had had a lot of respect for him, but he made me feel uncomfortable. Steven was just a tad conservative in his ideas of the role of men and woman and it reminded me of Daddy. I tried to maintain a distance from him, but felt drawn to him at the same time. It seemed he could just stare into my sole and it left me both frightened and exhilarated at the same time. In private moments he would say the strangest things, as though responding to what was on my mind. I know that sounds incredible, but it is still very true.
That fateful business trip had sealed our relationship. He had built me up: Made me believe that we were colleagues on equal footing. Looking back, I realize that was a foolish illusion I had created for myself. He had slowly gained my trust. Over time I see now that I had gradually submitted more and more to his will. That weekend, he treated me like his special lady and I loved it. He commanded me to do his bidding and somehow I had enjoyed pleasing him so. Why I let him punish me like some naughty school girl, I don't know. It just seemed like the right thing to do. I can't define it exactly. He had controlled me, and I had willingly submitted to him. There was nothing I would deny him, if only he would ask.
And so, from that weekend on, our relationship slipped closer to what would become a true D/s relationship. Though we refrained from most physical displays of affection, public or otherwise, I felt there was a mutual love between us. He had the capacity of gentle passion or forceful intensity. The latter was the most common, but I found both intoxicating. I grew to trust him as well, and that was very important.
Dr. Ross had many social obligations and it was important to Steven that I conducted myself in such a 'proper' way. He spent a lot of time insuring I was up to the task. I didn't perceive this as controlling me as much as his teaching me. He was a very patient teacher and I loved to please him. He guided my career, my diet, my exercise regimen, my intellectual stimulation, virtually every aspect of my life. All these things he did for me in a very loving and caring way. I knew I was lucky that someone cared so much for me.
To our friends we appeared to be dating, and we both seemed to encourage that perception. Most of our friends were really his friends I suppose: Intellectually gifted and socially refined, but I felt comfortable with them anyway.
His closest friend was Peter Cooley, an attorney, whom Steven had known for several years. Peter was very handsome and like Steven, very self assured. At 6'4", very muscular, he had a very commanding presence. I have never really cared for facial hair, but with his closely trimmed beard and always impeccable dress, Peter pulled it off. He was a very friendly and charming man, who seemed to like me as well. I was very glad about this, because that seemed important to Steven.
