"When choosing between two evils, I always like to try the one I've never tried before."
- Mae West
* * * * *
A week had passed since the total sexual eclipse, and Puppy Slave had kept his vow to his Goddess - he had gone to work commando every day.
They would cross each other's paths at work; each gazing into the other's eyes with a "we know something they don't know" look; each doing their respective tasks as the erotic thoughts of his Goddess being in thongs beneath Her khakis, and Her Puppy being in the raw beneath his, lent excitement – and mutual passion – to their day.
The summer rains had returned and remained; like houseguests that have overstayed their welcome; the dead gray pallor making the sky gloomy – and the employees' outlooks the same. All wished for the season to be true to its norm, as some had plans to go to the beach; others just to putter with yard work; still others to participate in outdoor sports.
There were two co-workers, however, who didn't care that the rains had returned, or if it rained for forty days and forty nights; or if it ever stopped raining at all. They had been awakened and introduced to a mutually welcomed world of dominance and bondage; during the one and only night necessary to being dry and clear – and that revealing night- that past Thursday night by the river's edge- had made everything else decisively clear, too: She was to be his obeyed Goddess, and he was to be Her devout slave.
Within this same week, She had made several other demands of Her puppy-of-a-slave to prove his worthiness of Her attention. He would call Her on his way to work to pronounce his soul-felt devotion and obedience to Her, and at night while driving home from work, he was to use his mobile phone headset and masturbate while She coached him into stroking himself empty. Above all else, however, he was to proclaim his immeasurable trust in Her. This last demand was, in reality, Her First Commandment:
"THOU SHALT TRUST THY GODDESS WITH ALL THY HEART, AND WITH ALL THY SOUL, AND WITH ALL THY PERVERSIONS IN THY MIND"
From this unshakable belief, all of their erotic fantasies could- and would- be physically attained.
It was the leather dog collar; wide, black and chrome stud encrusted with a silver tag that hung from it with the engraving " My Puppy Slave" that She gifted him; placing it around his neck as his rightful owner should - now commanding him to wear daily at work - which would cause his belief to be rattled. It was fear that beset him; not entirely unwarranted fear either; for if his superior spotted it beneath his shirt and tie, questions would certainly be asked; questions that he could not – dared not - answer.
But it was this same fear of discovery and humiliation that evoked the warm tingle deep within his groin. His firm, tight balls bouncing with each step; free from their cotton boxer prison; his cock stretching in its new, non restraining environment that made his concerns evaporate. It was his - no, - it was Her- chosen lifestyle for him.
The Commandments of his Goddess were that of his newfound Bondage and Domination religion. The dog collar symbolized this domination by his Goddess, and this denomination of BDSM worship to Her. He was Her pet – Her Puppy – Her Puppy-of-a-slave. Unequivocally; final; finis.
They compared their work schedules for the upcoming week and found they had, by an act of their friend, Fate- one mutual day off where they could have some private time together to further explore the proclivities of Her newest form of sexually enticing talents.
The night before their planned rendezvous would have been a normal, non eventful evening at work for the two but for one exception: Puppy had failed to wear his new necklace of ownership – his personalized dog collar…Uh… ohhhh… BAD PUPPY.
He had been running late for work, and had thrown the collar into his glove compartment to put on before entering the building, but in his haste, had left it in the car. She discovered his near-fatal error when She pulled him into the stockroom, and proceeded with Her newest ritual of unbuttoning his shirt and unzipping his fly, so as to inspect the assets of Her new property…Her slave.
"Where is your collar, Puppy?" demanded his Goddess, as She took a step back; searching his face with those swamp green eyes.
"Forgive me, my Goddess, I …" his explanation was stifled by Her hand closing over his mouth.
"You should NOT be in the position to need to beg for forgiveness, slave! If you had been obedient, you would not have to be concerned about tomorrow! Now however, with this new development, I shall have to alter my plans for what I was going to teach you. Your foremost thoughts right now should be how to win back your Goddess' trust."
She was almost hissing the veiled threat as She slid Her hand down into his khakis; assuring Herself he was not trying to commit submissive suicide as to forget anything else; like being commando beneath his pants. Fortunately for him, he had not forgotten this critical point of Her demands.
She walked out of the stockroom leaving him alone; disheveled; fly open; his cock hanging out of his pants; his head bowed low because of his failure to please his Goddess...tsk, tsk, tsk... BAD, BAD PUPPY.
He was shunned by Her the rest of the night; totally ignored. The feeling of insurmountable guilt because he had disappointed and failed Her loomed over him as his mind reviewed over and over what Her statement was in the stockroom hours earlier:
"Your foremost thoughts right now should be how to win back your Goddess' trust."
He knew it was not going to be so easy to make amends. How difficult it would actually be he would not come to fully realize until the following night…
* * * * *
Eighteen hours later, Goddess and Her pup were in their makeshift dungeon; an out of the way motel several miles from their jobs; further still from their homes; an almost Gothic styled hideaway that befitted the desires of the pair. He had brought several mood enhancers; scented candles, Her favorite wine, silver goblets; a gift of sensuous oil that the sorrowful slave was hoping he would be permitted to massage onto his Goddess' soft and perfect shoulders. As it were, he would never get the chance to touch Her shoulders - or anything else that night...
She, too, had gifts for Her slave; all contained inside a large velvet pouch. Like a clever magician, Her bag of tricks would captivate Her audience of one; and keep him wanton of yet more. It was actually his Goddess' foreplay of power; She would restrain him and put a mask over his head – the element of surprise the key to Her Dominatrix prowess and erotic success – and Her scheme of rendering him helpless to Her teaching tactics...
As soon as the door to their room was shut, the still repenting slave was hooded with a thick, heavy mask and then led to the bed where he was laid out like a cadaver positioned for an autopsy. Not a word was spoken; no questions or explanations were to be addressed; for that was yet another commandment of his Goddess and another cornerstone in the foundation of Her stand on trust: A silent slave was an obedient and trusting slave.
She stripped Her chattel of all clothing; less his dog collar that She purposely left strapped around his neck. Unknown to Her neglectful subservient, this would be the finale; the closing topic of the one sided discussion in this night's BDSM seminar.
She commenced with the bondage ritual; handcuffing his hands together to the top of the bed; then adding a new teaching tool to the lesson - shackles. They were placed on his ankles with some extra slack of chain between the two cuffs – there would be need for this extra linkage in Her revised lesson of the night.
Beneath his hooded mask, Puppy found it difficult to hear the movements his Goddess was making as all sounds were muffled; again, a deliberate plan of action by his Mistress to keep Her pet in suspense for as long as it suited Her fancy.
Once he was secured to the bed, She went to the velvet pouch to retrieve another mood setter; this time being a deliciously decadent visual – a black leather corselet, black lace stockings, and mid thigh- high black leather boots with five inch stiletto heels. She took Her time in readying Herself for the impact She knew this would have on Her slave – and on his cock. She delighted in watching Her puppy's tail "wag" in obvious response to Her sensual teases.
She capped the stimulating look with a collar; a dog collar to match his; a near duplicate of the collar that he failed to wear the day before in work; the same kind of dog collar that would be an acute reminder of what brought him here with Her this night...
Only the collar She wore bore a solid metal padlock in the wide leather strap... and there was just one key for its placement…or its removal.
When She was finished placing the new form of jewelry onto Her lithe neck, She lit the candles that Her pathetic, unreliable slave had brought, and proceeded to open the bottle of wine and pour the golden liquid into both goblets. Slowly, She walked alongside the bed; up to where he laid sprawled, cuffed, chained and still- and panting beneath the hot hooded mask.
"He looks just like a dog in heat!" She thought to Herself, as She stood staring down at him; reviewing in Her mind the revised steps leading to the true lesson of the night – the recently updated, seductively spiteful version.
