I thought I'd found the right one - a Master who would treasure me as well as discipline me. I'd always been turned on by the thought of being owned by a strong and demanding man who would punish me if I failed to please him, and I'd loved letting him control and use me. I had loved learning how to please him. Then I began with the smart mouth comebacks. This need to test my limits was one of those character flaws my mother and my teachers had always complained about.
I'd quickly learned that however amused he might be by my cheekiness he would still discipline me. My butt had been reddened more than once for flippantly asking what his last slave had died of or suggesting he get his own drink. After the punishment I'd tearfully promise him I would not let my smart mouth get me into trouble anymore. They were wasted words, because eventually I just had to voice one too many smart comments, accompanied by real hints of defiance.
Finally, his usual tolerant amusement was obliterated by real anger. I have not forgotten the bruises he left on my throat as his hand pinned me against the wall or the dark savagery in his eyes. He'd let me go and stepped away. This time, he'd told me, I would learn that I was born to be a slave and then he'd left me alone in my apartment.
At first I had been a little fearful, wondering what punishment he planned, but the days passed with no contact from him and I'd grown puzzled, then resentful. I'd been good for a while, waiting for the telephone call and hoping he wouldn't stay away too long. Then I decided he wasn't the right one for me. He should have known that abandoning me was not what I wanted. So, I'd done the unthinkable. I'd found another apartment well away from my usual haunts, asked the company boss if I could shift offices to be closer to the new place, and hidden where he wouldn't find me. Between bouts of lonely tears and cursing him for failing me I'd soothed myself with visions of him looking for me frantically without success. Now the emptiness was easier to bear and I hoped, in time, that I'd find another one who would give me what I wanted.
Opening the door of the apartment was easy, despite having a huge bunch of red roses in one arm. I hadn't been able to resist the dark crimson or the strong perfume as I headed home after work. It was one of those little treats I'd found useful to take my mind off the memories. Now such treats were almost a habit and always made me feel special.
I nudged the door closed behind me with one leg and froze. A large figure was standing at the window, staring out at the road below. I knew that shape intimately and recalled the cold rage in his face the day I had pushed our relationship too far. Now he was here, in my room. I had actually managed to make him really angry months ago and running away would have consolidated his rage into something far more dangerous. I couldn't hold back the desperate little yelp as the door clicked solidly shut and he turned to look at me. The roses tumbled to the floor as I dropped to my knees, eyes down and hands resting on my open thighs.
"Well, well. At least you still have some manners left," he sneered as he moved a couple of steps further into the room.
"Get on your belly."
Wordlessly, I slid forward and assumed the position he commanded, fingers locked behind my neck, forehead on the floor. I could feel my heart hammering against the wooden floor as I listened to him walk slowly towards me and then walk around my prone body until he stopped near my head. If I squinted to look sideways I could just see the toe of one boot. I wondered how on earth he had found me. As if he was reading my mind he remarked conversationally, "Did you really think you could just disappear? That I wouldn't know where you were all the time?"
"No......yes........." In trying to answer his question I floundered meaninglessly.
"I don't know why I bother. Be quiet."
With that dismissive remark, he walked away and I heard the drawers in the kitchen open and close. I dared not look, but he was soon back, one leg on either side of my body. He dropped to his knees and one strong hand gripped the back of my T-shirt at the neck, pulling it towards him. I couldn't stop the squeak of panic as I felt cold steel touch my skin. He laughed and rested the blade against my skin so that I knew he did indeed have a knife in his hand.
The T-shirt, pulled tight between my body and his hand, gave easily as the knife cut along the full length of the back. The point drifted back along my spine, like the fingernail of a cold dead hand, and he shifted his grip on the T-shirt to cut along the shoulders on both sides. My skirt also parted easily, the knife cutting it from waist to hem on one long movement. I bit my bottom lip in an attempt to not whimper. Not that it would have mattered to him if I had whimpered, except perhaps to confirm that I was finally truly frightened of him.
He shifted above me, but only to roughly rip first the remnants of the T-shirt and then the skirt from under my body. Swift cuts and a few hard tugs left me without bra or panties, lying naked on the floor. I struggled to keep my hands clasped, wrapping them around my neck with nose pressed to the floor as he had commanded. What if he noticed the final treachery I was trying to hide?
The flat of the blade pushed under my hands and lifted them. Gently, with my palms unresistingly resting against the blade, he pressed the point against the back of my neck. I flinched as his other hand caressed my neck. His hand was warm, but my shame made me think that it burned like a brand against my skin.
"My, my, no collar."
His voice was deceptively pleasant. I felt sure he had known all along that I had removed the delicate collar he had placed there almost 6 months ago. I tried to bury my ultimate nakedness against the uncaring wooden floor, unable to prevent a low moan of fear. His hand moved around to the softness of my throat and cupped the slenderness against the point of the knife.
"Stay very still, Princess. Don't move even an inch. I am very disappointed with you."
His voice was calm as he removed his hand, along with the sharp tip of the knife. I heard him walk steadily away and the slight scrape of a chair before he dropped into it. The silence stretched as I lay there waiting for him to decide what he wanted to do next. The sweet smell of the roses scattered around me filled my nostrils and I wanted to explain that I shouldn't have been left alone without hearing his voice or feeling his touch. I wanted to tell him that I hadn't wanted to run away, but he had ignored me and I'd thought he didn't care enough to punish me. Yet the memory of the few months he had spent training me and my newfound fear kept me silent. He sighed and clicked his fingers.
"Come here."
I started to crawl to him, but he stopped me with a sharp command to stay on my belly. The short distance across the floor seemed a long way as I dragged myself to him. Moving in this position I could not even show the swing of my breasts or the long line of my spine until it disappeared into the curve of my buttocks. It was clumsy and demeaning, highlighting his absolute displeasure with me. Finally, I lay with my cheek next to his boot, too ashamed to even risk a quick lick of the leather.
"Well, what am I to do with you?"
The question was rhetorical. He continued with a quiet request for me to list my transgressions since he had seen me last. Stumbling over the words I began to whisper.
"Start again and louder. I can't hear you."
Swallowing and trying to keep my voice clear, I began again, from the day he had told me I was a dilettante and he was not sure I was worth his efforts. My voice grew more wobbly as I recited first all of my anger at him because I thought he had abandoned me, and then my decision to pleasure myself because I had not heard from him, all leading to my plans to run away and the final act of taking off the collar I had invited him to place around my neck.
The enormity of my actions filled me as I spoke and by the time I reached the end I was sobbing. He ignored me and let me cry until the cries became sniffling sobs and I pressed my cheek against his boot in an act of contrition. He moved his foot away and I struggled to not start crying again or ask him what I desperately needed to know - what he intended to do. There was soft thud and a slight metallic rattle next to my face and I tried to turn my head to see what had made the noise without him noticing.
"It's OK, Princess, you can look because you have a choice to make. I am fed up with ignorant little bitches who think they want the lifestyle, but are not prepared to make the final commitment."
His voice was distant and hard and I started to cry again, protesting between the sobs.
"I did not ask you to do anything other than tell me your transgressions and now you whine like a dog. It's just another example of your refusal to accept discipline," he harshly continued. "Now - your choices. Look at what is on the floor next to you."
That dried my sobs to gulps and I turned my head to focus through the tears at the object he'd dropped. It was a plain leather dog collar with a lead attached. My instincts were right - he had known I'd removed his collar. I realised he could read me as easily as I could read the daily newspaper.
"I thought you had committed yourself when you offered me your neck to collar but you think this is a game. This time, once that collar is around your neck you will surrender your will to me or I will break you completely."
His words were like blows, each one delivered in a measured tone.
"Or you can say no and I will leave. However, everyone will know that I regarded you a waste of time."
