"I own you-you are my slave and mine alone" again and again, as if it is a chant, you tell me as you fuck me with long smooth thrusts, kissing me fiercely, waiting until you know I'm about to orgasm. Before I actually do, you slip out of me, pulling me up and onto my knees, grabbing and pinning my wrists together tightly. I gasp, the pain so sudden, so fierce. You tell me that you want to prove to me that I can place myself totally in your care. You ask me to surrender to you, totally, to obey you without any question; you tell me you will cherish me for it. Your blue, blue eyes stare unblinking into my soft brown ones as you wait for me to agree. I have no choice but to accept. I know, as well as you do that I am yours. I cannot refuse you.
"Yes, My Beloved, Master, I surrender myself to you and I will obey you."
I gaze up at you, and nod. You look at me kneeling in front of you with my wrists clamped in one of your hands and the moist swell of my pussy in your other. The expression upon my face is a mixture of anxiety and desire, so poignant that your throbbing cock feels as if it's going to explode. You pull my wrists up, grab my elbows and then roughly fling me across the bed. You push me onto my tummy and mount me roughly from behind. You grasp my buttocks and spread my anus wide open. Slowly you insert one finger, feeling my dryness, and then you spread the lube upon me so I am ready. In one deft movement you enter.
You then withdraw and then reenter, doing this several times before beginning to violently fuck me. You fuck me hard, your balls slapping against my ass, your cock inserted so deep. You ejaculate into me almost immediately. After, as we lie cuddled up together, you tell me tenderly that you are going to whip me. You describe the whip, telling me, it is very long, thin, and made of black leather. You tell me that you are going to take photographs of me, so that you can relive the moment later. I knew as I agreed to obey that it would be difficult⦠I hear the words you speak to me, so calm, so clear. I will myself to not be afraid. I know you choose me that you love me and own me.
I know I need to trust you, to allow you to take all of me that you need. I know I deserve to be punished, to be tested and pushed beyond the realm of myself. You stretch my limits and my strength, but I am yours, after all, so that is your right. We both want this; it is not a game-it is the reality of what is life for us. You the Master, and I your loyal, obedient slave. Laying here now with you, knowing what I know, I think how unbelievable this all is, that I want this. That I give you myself. Fully, completely, without any question. This was something I always wanted. Dreamed about, and when I met you, my dreams came true. But now, this is the first time and allβ¦.
My mind drifts back to earlier this morning, when you phoned me, exactly as you said you would. You summoned me to your studio loft, speaking with such profound grace. You described what you wanted me to wear, how to style my hair, apply my make-up and at what time to arrive. I put the phone down in a state of shock knowing that there was a clear choice; either I go to you where you will humiliate and beat me or else lose you; because you will know that my love for you has limits beyond which I will not go. I take a hot shower and give myself a warm enema, holding it in until the cramping becomes unbearable. I apply my makeup while still sitting naked on the toilet as I'm short of time; you told me to be there at 12:30 sharp-, which was barely an hour from the time of your call.
The gift box that you had delivered to me this morning sits untouched on the bed. I shift my eyes to the vase holding the spray of roses you sent with it, dark purple nearly black -never have I seen such beautiful roses. Hesitantly, I untie the ribbon and slip my hands beneath the lid feeling amongst the layers of tissue paper with trembling fingers. My fingertips trace the shape of a garment, caressing leather as soft and supple as chamois. Smiling, relieved, I lift it from the box, holding it up at arm's length. It's a long-line demi-cup bra, almost a bustier, in cherry-red leather. I slip into it, wrapping it around myself with a shiver of anticipation that becomes a low tingle of pleasure as I catch sight of my reflection in the mirror. The bright red against my pale flesh is quite a sight. I buckle the single strap beneath my breasts with trembling fingers then slowly begin to lace the front up.