Laid Bare

Laid bare.

I'd been with Sarah for about three months when she told me she was a dominatrix.

To be honest it wasn't a big deal. I'm a pretty open-minded guy. She was worried though which I guess is understandable. She spent what felt like hours explaining the kind of things she did and didn't do with the guys who came to see her. She never had sex with them, never kissed them, most of the time they never even got naked. And she certainly never did. Of course, that didn't mean that what they did wasn't sexual. Whatever it was for her, these guys were coming to her because they were getting something worth paying for, but I was fine with that.

"Actually it's often not sexual at all," she replied when I asked her about it later. "It might sound a bit pretentious, but what I offer them is closer to love."

I swear I tried to hold it in but I couldn't help but laugh. She didn't seem to find it as funny as I did.

"When you get right down to it, love is just understanding plus acceptance. The more completely someone understands you, while still being able to accept you, the more loved you feel. Wouldn't you say that's true?"

I shrugged. Who knew what they were after. "And you, what? Understand that they like to get spanked?"

She fixed me with a stern look.

"Sometimes." she said, "Bit it's more a matter of understanding why they want to be spanked. You have to be able to see what the person in front of you has spent years hiding from everyone around them. Maybe even from themselves. Then you give it to them. If that happens to be a spanking then so be it."

"And what if what they want is a blowjob?"

"Then they don't need a dominatrix," she replied with a shrug. "But we're generally looking a bit deeper than that." She hesitated. "I could show you if you want..."

"Me?! No thanks. I've been a good boy. No need for you to spank me."

Her turn to laugh.

"Now we both know that's not true. Besides there is more to what I do than just spanking people you know."

Shit. There was a touch of hurt in her voice. I guess I had come off as a little condescending.

"No, I wasn't saying that. I just, I mean I don't think I'm the submissive type."

"And what exactly is the submissive type?" She sat in front of me, blocking my view of the TV. She wasn't going to let this go. Why did I have to open my big dumb mouth?

"I'm just saying. I mean come on, you know what I'm like in bed"

"I certainly do."

"Well? Would you describe that as submissive behaviour?"

"So you think that people have to be only one or the other? That's interesting."

"Actually yes. Can you imagine one of your clients fucking you like that?"

"Hmm, maybe," she said with a wry grin, "but that's not the point. The point is that nobody is just one thing. Even a caveman like you."

"Ok. If you say so, mistress." I said, hoping that maybe she'd drop it if I backed down. No such luck.

"See?" She purred. "You're learning already! But let me prove it. Give me half an hour. During that time you do whatever I say and you answer my questions honestly. If you do a good job," she leaned in close, her breath in my ear sending a tingle down my spine, "I'll let you fuck my ass."

Checkmate. I sighed and turned off the TV. "What do I have to do?"

Sarah pulled one of the dining table chairs in front of the TV and sat down opposite me. She spent a few moments making herself comfortable, straightening her clothes and settling herself into the chair. I thought about asking if she needed some time to prepare.

"Stand up." It was subtle but her voice was a little different. Not hard or harsh, just certain, leaving no room for manoeuvre. The tone of someone who takes obedience for granted. I stood up.

She looked me over for a few silent moments. Her expression neutral. Apparently, the intensity of her "look into your soul" gaze, dialled up a few notches when she was in dominatrix mode. I felt naked even though I had all my clot...

"Strip."

I chuckled. "It's like you read my mind."

"Don't talk." She said. "Not unless I ask you a question."

There was that certainty again. I thought about arguing just to prove to myself that I still could, but the thought of disobeying made me feel as if I'd be letting her down. Maybe there really was something to this dominatrix stuff. She seemed to register my hesitation. She was watching me so closely. I wondered if just behind that cool expression on her face she was laughing her ass off.

I took off my t-shirt and pulled down the tracksuit bottoms I'd been lounging around in all day. I didn't have anything on underneath. Her eyes lingered on my cock. Maybe this was going to be fun after all. She reached over and took a pack of cigarettes out of her purse. She shook one loose, placed it into her mouth and lit it, leaning back again as she exhaled the smoke.

"One of my clients likes to have me flick cigarette ash into his mouth," she said after a few puffs. Even though there were only the two of us in the room, it was obvious that she wasn't interested in a response. It was as if she was talking to herself. I was just a piece of furniture.

"But that wouldn't be right for you would it? You're much too big and manly for that aren't you?" Her tone was so soft and smooth, that I missed the question. I felt as if I were being hypnotised. Also, I was acutely aware of the fact that I was naked and she was fully dressed. This was not a dynamic which I was used to.

She stood up. "Aren't you?!" She didn't shout, but the change in her tone snapped me back to reality like a bucket of ice water.

"I-I don't know."

My God, it was crazy! She was actually making me nervous! No, obviously didn't want her to flick cigarette ash into my mouth. She knew that, I knew that, and here I was, not telling her that.

"Of course you know." She said, reading my mind again. "You don't have to pretend. In fact, this is your opportunity to be completely honest. That's what those men you were talking about earlier come to me for you know? They need a place where they're free to be pathetic, snivelling worms. A place where they won't be laughed at, where they won't feel like it's wrong." She took another long pull on her cigarette. "But that's not what you want either. Not quite."

It wasn't just the fact that I was naked and she wasn't. I've never been shy about being naked in front of somebody. I felt more than naked, I felt transparent. Like my insides were being laid bare before her. Meanwhile I couldn't even muster the courage to look directly at her. The one-sidedness of our dynamic made me feel panicked. I silently willed myself to at least get hard, to at least manifest some form of power, but my cock didn't seem to have any plans in that direction. My hand moved instinctively to cover me as I felt it start to shrivel.

"Don't fucking move." Her voice sounded like metal. Her whole body tensed, as her eyes continued to bore into me, making the urge to cover up even stronger. Still, I knew that if I disobeyed her it would be over. And despite myself, I didn't want it to be.

I could sense the tension drain from her body as I let my arms hang back down by my sides and I felt...relieved. The flash of temper disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. Had this side of her really been there just beneath the surface this whole time? And what about me? Here I was, buck naked, afraid to move in case this strange little game came to an end. Had this part of me always been inside me?

She walked over to me, bringing her face to within a few inches of mine. My limp cock felt like it was receding into my body. "Do you remember the first time we fucked?"

I nodded.

"You were so strong and manly. So aggressive. Do you remember?"

I nodded again. I thought about how I'd balled her hair in my fist, grasping it by the roots. How I'd thrown her onto the bed, pressing her down with my weight as I drove myself into her again and again. I remembered how she'd pushed herself back into me, encouraging me, taking my free hand and placing it around her throat, her eyes screwed shut as I squeezed. At the time I'd felt so in control, so strong, but now, as I looked back it didn't feel that way at all.

"Do you feel manly now?" She asked.

I tried to speak but my voice caught in my throat. I tried again.

"No." I thought about adding "mistress" but I wasn't ready to give her the satisfaction.

"Does it feel bad?"

The question took me by surprise. If you'd have asked me before we started this bizarre little game, how I'd have felt to be standing naked and flaccid in front of my still fairly new and fully clothed girlfriend. How it would feel to be obeying her every command and, what is even stranger, wanting to, I wouldn't have known how to respond, but I definitely wouldn't have expected to feel this...comfortable.

"No," I answered.

She took a few steps back, looking directly into my eyes.

"I like it" she said softly. "I like it when you're manly. When you're powerful. I like it when you show me how strong you can be." She paused. "But I like this too. I don't think any less of you when you're like this."

Out of nowhere, I felt tears prick the back of my eyes. My first thought was that she must have bee lying. How could she not think less of me when I was weak? When she could control me so easily. When she could see right through to my core? But when I looked at her, I saw that it was true. There was no pity in her eyes, no revulsion, just...love.

"Get on your knees." Her voice was gentle but just as absolute as before. Not that I had the least intention of resisting.

I knelt down. The hard wooden floor pressed painfully against my knees but I didn't mind. I wouldn't have minded doing anything for her at that moment. Just the simple act of kneeling at her request felt more honest than anything we'd ever done together. Anything I'd done in years.

She crouched in front of me, bringing herself to my level before she spoke again. "That's enough for now," she said gently. "You were wonderful. Are you ok?"

"Yes, Mistress," I replied, as the tears rolled silently down my cheeks. "Thank you, Mistress."