Submission Denied

I heard the car's engine shut down and frantically rushed to be in kneeling position beside the front door. My wife, Stacy, entered the moment I'd assumed the required pose, eyes downcast and hands clasped behind my neck. She was in relatively good humor tonight, cheerily saying, "Hello, pet. Have you been waiting long?"

"Only ten minutes, Mistress," I lied.

"Really! Then we must have company. Who is it?"

"Wha- What do you mean, Mistress?"

"Let me draw a picture for you, slave. A dark night, a lit house, pulled curtains, shadows. I'm not blind. You lied to me! How dare you?"

Already frightened and sobbing, I pleaded, "I'm sorry, Mistress. I didn't think a little white lie would hurt."

"It'll hurt all right. Stand up and get dressed," she said.

I went to the bedroom, befuddled, and put on my clothes. Returning to the kitchen, I saw Mistress Stacy preparing supper.

"Hi, it's almost ready. Would you set the table, dear?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"Oh-h-h, don't call me that," she laughingly said. "I'm not your Mistress. I'm your loving wife."

"But, Mistress . . ."

"Please, darling. If you stop calling me that I might be in the mood to give you a good time later on."

Shattered, I knew what she was doing. She was implementing a terrible punishment for my lie. Stacy was withdrawing her gift of domination and rejecting my submission. I tried to head it off by telling her again how sorry I was and that it would never happen again.

"That's right," she said, "it won't."

For the next week, we lived an extraordinarily vanilla lifestyle. Except that despite her suggestion of "a good time" a week earlier, there had been no sex, just an infrequent hug. I had to call her Stacy or Darling or any other endearment; never Mistress. Friday night of the second week Stacy told me she'd invited a new friend to come visit this evening and she'd appreciate it if I went out and caught a double bill or something.

"Just don't come home until after Midnight," she said.

"Can't I visit with her as well?" I asked.

"It's not a her, it's a him," she said, "and, no, I don't think that would be a good idea. I'm interviewing and auditioning a new, part-time slave."

Crushed, I begged her to cancel and to resume our own D/s relationship.

"You canceled that, Dear, when you lied to me. It wasn't the first time, was it? Of course it wasn't. You'll continue to be my husband if you want and, with luck, Hal will be my new slave. Now, I must get dressed. Have to make the right first impressions, don't I?" Her demeanor was conspiratorial; cheery, bright, a just-between-us attitude.

"Please get ready and get out of here. I've still got to get my leathers and boots on and your being underfoot will just slow me down. Have a nice time, dear."

Underfoot! I know she said that to torture me. Good God, if I could only take back that dumb lie. But there was no way it was going to fly tonight. She was determined. I had been banished as her slave. I wanted to cry. Halfway through the first feature, I did. I couldn't stand it. I got home just before 11, well aware of my post-Midnight time requirement.

Feisty now, I thought, "What the hell. It's my house. I'm not her slave anymore. I'll come and go as I wish." and put my key in the lock, going inside. Stacy, wearing her long, black leather dress, her spike heeled boots and her amazing make-up, had Hal before her on the end of her leash - my leash! - kneeling naked in the living room. She was not at all flustered by my early arrival and calmly introduced us. "Slave," she said, "this is my husband, Alan. Alan, this is my prospective slave, Hal."

Conditioned by manners taught any civilized people, we ludicrously mumbled our hellos. I noticed his red ass and the welts on his upper thighs.

"Hal has made some good progress tonight. I'm not quite ready to take him on as a regular slave, but he certainly has potential." The remarks were directed to me but Hal thanked her. "See how good he is?" she said.

Again he spouted a "Thank you, Mistress." This was infuriating, frustrating, maddening, saddening - every conflicting emotion you can think of.

"Your timing is excellent, Alan. Slave and I were just finishing. He's already cum on my boots and licked them clean," turning to him, "haven't you, slave."

"Yes, Mistress. Thank you, Mistress."

She'd had him cum on the boots I had spent so many days and nights worshiping, cleaning, polishing! I couldn't believe it.

"Get dressed and leave me now, slave. Phone Monday at my office."

"Yes, Mistress," he said. "Thank you, Mistress."

Stacy sat back on the couch, supremely relaxed, and watched as Hal dressed, kneeled to kiss her feet, said his good-byes and left. "That was wonderful, Alan. I've missed having a man at my feet so much. Whipping him was grand. God, I'm horny. Let's go to bed." And, with that, she was on her feet and beginning the disrobing process, unzipping the leather dress as she walked upstairs. I sagged into the easy chair, sat with my legs spread, elbows on my knees, head in my hands, once again near tears. How could I have been so stupid? How could I have negated our special relationship, the relationship I so badly needed?

I didn't hear or see her approach but from the landing I heard, "It's difficult for you, isn't it, Alan? I've watched your behavior over the past week or so and I'm not immune to your agony. I've softened my position by only just a little. I won't become your Mistress again for quite some time but I will admit that whipping and abusing Hal just didn't have the same thrill."

I sat up, enthused and invigorated by her words.

"Don't get your hopes up too high. If I take you back as my slave, you're going to have to wait. What's more, if I do take you back - and that's still a strong if - the training you've endured up until last week will be as nothing compared to what would be in store. Think well on what I've told you. In the meantime, I've got Hal to play with. But I'm not entirely heartless. If you feel you need to be under feminine control from time to time while I make a final decision, you may see a professional. I won't object."

My ebullient mood was dashed. It wasn't a professional or any other woman I needed to serve. It was her, and I said as much.

"Alan, my darling, I can only repeat that you think about everything I've just said. If I do take you back as my slave, it may be far too intense for you. Take your time. Think hard."

She was the Mistress of the double entendre. Being hard was easy; thinking hard a whole other problem, particularly at the moment. But I was smart enough to recognize the basic psychology at work here. She knew I wanted to serve her and was hinting she might take me back... If. Of course, that tactic only made me want her the more. She smiled, watching my mind at work, knowing exactly what was going on.

"I see the thinking process has already begun," she said, "and, if you'll forgive another pun, it's much like the carrot and the stick, isn't it? Except we're talking about the stick."

"Yes, Mistress, it is."

The moment I said it I was aware of my mistake. But she softly batted it aside. "Not yet, Alan. Perhaps in a few weeks. Let's go to bed."

I wanted to talk right then but she was adamant. If B&D was to be a topic, it couldn't include her and I, she said. Sure, we could talk about Hal and her plans for him, about the possibilities of my seeing a ProDom, or of finding an E-mail Domina ... but not about my slavery to her. I remained heartbroken.

Saturday, we went downtown shopping. On our way was the toy and leather shop Stacy continued to patronize. She asked that we stop in, that there were a couple of things she wanted to buy. We both knew Grace, the lady doing the customer work. She was the boss' wife and had been in the store for at least 10 years. She appeared glad to see us. "What do you two need today? I thought you were pretty well stocked."

"Actually, this is for me. I have a new slave who needs some of his own equipment."

Grace was a model of discretion. No questions, just a simple "What can I show you?"

"I want a bit-harness, a cock-and-ball harness, a butt plug and, for good measure, a nice new flogger."

Grace and Stacy wandered off. Morose, I sat in the waiting area as the two talked and shopped. Stacy and Grace whipped the air with a few of the implements before Stacy made her decision. Back in the car, she said, "That new flogger is beautiful, isn't it? I'm going to have a wonderful time with Hal Monday night."

"I thought he was only to phone you at the office Monday," I pouted.

"Exactly. And I'm going to tell him to come over. I want to whip him again."

God, she was torturing me.

Back home, I carried in the groceries while Stacy held her new purchases. She handled the package in an exaggerated fashion that, I'm positive, was meant to tease, to remind me these toys were not for our use but rather for her play with Hal. "Just put the groceries on the counter, Alan," she said. "I'll put them away. Here," handing me her bag of new toys, "please put these upstairs on my dresser."

I sullenly took the bag and obediently moved up the carpeted stairs to our bedroom. Inside, I couldn't resist looking, drawing out the bit-harness and the flogger, then the cock-and-ball harness and the butt plug. I inspected each, fondling them.

"They are nice, aren't they? Her voice surprised me since I hadn't heard her approach. She seemed to do that to me quite often. Guiltily, I began putting it all back in the shopping bag. She took it from me, extracting the flogger.

"Alan, just being in the store today turned me on and holding this lovely whip is doing good things for me. Would you mind if I tried it out on you?"

I was amazed. It was only last night she'd said it would be weeks, at the earliest, that we might resume our D/s status. Not stopping to question her, I said, "Please do, Mistress," hoping to earn my way back into her good graces. I began removing my pants.

"Oh, that won't be necessary, Alan, and don't call me Mistress. Just stay standing and turn around. I just want to try a few practice swings."

Rebuckling my jeans, I turned and Stacy swung the flogger at my ass seven, eight, nine... a total of ten times. The sting I felt through my pants was minimal, yet tantalizing. "Thank you, Stacy," I said.

"No, thank you for letting me try it. I can't wait to use it on Hal's bare butt."

I resigned myself to her unyielding attitude, lowered my head and left the room. The rest of the day was spent alternating between projects in the garage and yard work. Make that a ditto for Sunday. Stacy remained sweet and kind, making my meals, chatting enthusiastically about various subjects, and not alluding to anything having to do with D/s.

Monday, the work week began. The whole day my mind couldn't shake for more than a few minutes at a time what Stacy had planned for the evening. I phoned her office at mid-afternoon and asked if things had worked out the way she planned.

"Uhuh," she said. "Hal's coming over at eight. I told him what I bought Saturday. He can't wait!"

"And what would you like me to do, go to another double bill?" I asked.

"No, sweetie, you don't have to do that," she said teasingly. "If you want, you can help me get ready, then stay upstairs while we play. You can listen if you want."

I mumbled acceptance and we disconnected.

After supper, Stacy stood and said she had to start preparing. She asked if I'd come up in about half an hour to help her dress. When I got there, her make-up was perfect, her hair exquisite. She was naked at her vanity table.

"Alan, I'm feeling incredibly feminine tonight and that's the way I want to present myself. Please bring me my black lace bikini panties and push-up bra from my dresser."

I returned with the items and she arose, asking me to hold her panties while she stepped into them. I bent to the task, holding the waist in both hands as she put a hand on my shoulder to steady herself. "Pull them up nice and snug."

I brought them up to her hips, then smoothed the front and back, my blood boiling.

"Now the bra," she said. "Please put it on me, then do the snap in front."

I fitted her breasts into the half-cups and clicked the snap closed, her wondrous orbs straining forward as I did.

"Give them a quick kiss," she breathed.

I kissed and licked the exposed upper breast portions greedily, losing myself in her scent and her softness. She gently pulled my head up, kissed me passionately on the lips, then asked for her lace garter belt and the black stockings. I encircled her waist with it, then clipped it closed. She took the hanging garters and put them under and through the legs of her panties, front and rear, before sitting and extending a leg.

"Kneel, Alan, and put my stockings on for me. Roll them up my legs and fasten them."

On my knees with the silk stocking in my hands, her toes extended straight out before my eyes. I looked longingly up at her and she recognized my need. Nodding in unspoken agreement, she gave permission. I took her toes in my mouth sucking each before I felt her pushing all five digits, along with almost half her foot, between my lips.

"Suck, Alan. Enjoy. Know that later on tonight, you'll be up here while Hal's getting the full treatment downstairs. Now, stop. Get my stockings on me."

I finished the job, my eyes beginning to tear, the emotion of what was happening beginning to overwhelm me. I looked up. Stacy extended her hand, cupped my chin, and lifted it so she looked me in the eye.

"Yes, Alan," she said. "This is how it will be for the time being. You will help me prepare to meet my submissive, then you'll suffer up here by listening to what I do with him. I have a sense, Alan, that what you're going through right now is probably the second-worst punishment I could inflict. First, of course, would be dismissing you entirely from my life. Now, get up and bring me my short, black skirt and the white blouse. They're both hanging on the inside of the door."

I returned with both. She wanted the blouse first. I held it for her as she slipped her arms into the sleeves. She had me button it to a point just above the clasp of her bra, revealing plenty of cleavage. Next, she motioned for the skirt and, once again, I held the garment as she stepped into it. She turned and had me do up the zipper.

"All we need now are my shoes. Bring me the patent black pumps, the ones with the four-inch heels, and put them on me."

Again I knelt, helping her feet into the shoes. She sat back, crossed her legs and swung the suspended foot. "How do I look, Alan?"

I managed to say in a trembling voice, "You look magnificent, Mist... Stacy."

"Poor Alan. What am I going to do with you?"

I blurted out, "Please take me back as your slave, Mistress. Please. You're breaking my heart."

Stacy extended her shoe to my lips. "Kiss and lick, Alan, and listen closely. Remember what I told you Friday night. If I do take you back, it won't be anytime soon. And, again, if you do become my slave again, the training you've already undergone will seem as nothing. This time, IF you're accepted, I will be far stricter, far more comprehensive."

"I thought of nothing but that all weekend long, Stacy. I'm ready to accept whatever you have in mind. I know I wouldn't be happy living without you."

"Are you sure, Alan?"

"Yes, Stacy, I am. Please take me back."

She stood, turned her back on me, lifted her skirt and lowered her panties. "Kiss it," she said.

Gazing at her buttocks, I felt my excitement rise, my cock swelling as it lengthened. I did as she asked - did what I wanted to do - leaning forward and running my mouth over the smooth globes of her ass, licking her skin.

The doorbell rang.

Stacy raised her panties and turned back to me, looked down and saw my arousal. "I'm going downstairs now, Alan, but I don't want you to play with yourself while I'm playing with Hal. Stay right where you are. I'll let him in, then be right back."

She left the room. I heard her open the front door and greet Hal. She told him to go into the living room, disrobe, and await her on his knees at her chair.

Moments later, she came back to where I remained kneeling in our room. She walked directly into our closet and came back with shackles and the ball gag. "Take everything off, Alan, and lie down on the bed." She insisted I hurry.

In no time, I was lying on my back and Stacy shackled my wrists and ankles to the bedposts, then had me open my mouth to accept the gag.

"You can listen, Alan, but I don't want you interrupting my fun," she said. "And I don't want you playing with yourself. I'm going to want your cock later on." With that, she turned to leave the room. By the door, she gave me a quick look, blew me a kiss and said, "Imagine it's you down there. Enjoy."

I struggled just a bit to see if she'd been proficient. She had. Then I heard her voice floating up the stairs as she walked into the living room. "Hello, slave. It's nice to see you again so soon. Are you happy to be here?"

"Yes, Mistress Stacy," he said. "Ever since Friday you've been constantly on my mind. You're absolutely gorgeous tonight, Mistress."

"Good boy, that's what I like to hear."

I heard the springs of her chair as she sat, the rustle of her stockings as she crossed her legs, and her sensual voice saying, "Slave, crawl forward, lick my shoes and beg me to show you the things I bought Saturday."

The next two hours were a succession of sounds: A long flogging, moans, hands and knees on floors, chains rattling, protracted whimpering, Stacy's commands given, Hal's muffled obeisance. I laid there with an erection throughout, simultaneously pained at her performance with another man and thrilled that she'd bound me, forced me to give her my full attention by listening.

The front door opened and closed. Stacy came back to me. I looked at her as the bedroom doorway framed her magnificence. Her eyes glowed. I noted the moisture on one of the toes of her shoes.

"That was wonderful," she said as she reached under her skirt to remove her panties. Even from where I lay I could tell they were soaked.

Stacy came to me atop the bed, sat astride my chest and positioned her vagina over my face. She undid my ball gag, threw it on the floor, and demanded: "Eat me, Alan. I still need that attention from you."

The next moment I was being smothered in her, in her fragrance, in her need, in my desire to please, in my desperation to be, once again, her property, her slave. I adored her with my mouth, bringing her the kind of pleasure and ecstasy I was sure only I could bring. My mouth, my chin, my cheeks, my upper lip, my nose were all drenched with her essence... and still she rode my face, reaching back with one hand to enclose my cock in her grip; pulling it, squeezing it, caressing it, jerking it. I wanted her to impale herself on it but she remained where she was, enjoying my oral attentions - over and over again. Her magic hand worked me to peaks and depressions, taking me to the edge then pulling me back, over and over again. I was so absolutely ready for orgasm.

And then she collapsed, rolled off my face and laid beside me on the bed, snuggling her head into my shoulder, her small hand still holding my cock, still gently massaging it upwards and downwards. My entire body remained captive, still bound by wrists and ankles to the bed posts. The tops of her index finger and thumb had acquired a large deposit of my precum, and the account because of my frenzy was earning interest. Stacy brought her hand to my mouth, pushed it between my lips and had me clean it with my tongue.

My eyes closed, my lips and tongue working to clean her hand again displayed my worship and adoration as I tenderly and responsively submitted to her will.