She had strong working woman's hands. This was one thing he immediately noticed about her when they met. It didn't really occur to him why this was appealing, but he felt it nevertheless. Watching her through the kitchen window, he found himself wondering again.
They had both been in similar relationships before, she as the dominant, he as the submissive. They even discussed this very openly when they began seeing each other. Yet there was something different about this one now. On occasion, he would wonder what that something was, and wonder if she felt the same thing. When she looked up and caught his glance from the window, she smiled a broad, almost uncontrollable smile. Yes, he thought, she knows.
On seeing her make eye contact, coming back towards the house, he instinctively began washing dishes faster. She hadn't given him a time limit, but he was nearly done. In between his work, he continued to watch her as she slowly approached the home. She wore the usual plaid shirt tied above the waist and blue jean shorts that she always wore when she'd work outside. As she wiped sweat off her forehead with her arm and pulled off the gloves she'd had on, he took a moment away from the dishes to fix her a cold glass of water.
When she had first raised the idea of moving into the farmhouse with her, the apprehension he felt nearly scared him too much to tell her. It had seemed like a tremendous responsibility, if not a burden, to be there in her place, looking after her things, without working outside the home. His mind told him he would let her down, that he would bend under the pressure. After they had talked, though, he was set more at ease. He trusted her and knew that she always took his needs and feelings into account. Alongside this, her firm demeanor reminded him that he had guardrails where they were needed.
One of these was clasped around his neck. When she had presented it to him, he was struck by how simple it was. For whatever reason, he'd imagined she would choose a large, showy, and unwieldy collar for him. He never had liked having things around his neck. Even name tags and shirt collars felt suffocating. However, this was different. It was a collar like you'd give to a pet - light and simple, but somehow solid and durable. Something in his mind had clicked when she put it on for the first time. He was naked, on all fours on the floor, and she sat gently on his back, looped it around his neck and pulled.
Tight.
Every now and then, he'd think of another of those guardrails during the day, especially when he'd swallow and smile at feeling the collar press just enough against his throat. This other one frightened him more, but he knew why it was there and couldn't deny that it was exciting at the same time it was frightening. Besides, it kept him from falling and running off the road perhaps better than anything else. Walking around in the house, it was hard to ignore the fact that beneath his bare feet was a basement filled with chains, canes, cages, and many other instruments.
She opened the door, grabbed a cloth from the counter, and dried off her face and neck. Then she picked up the glass of water and took a long drink. Once she had a second to cool down, she stood and watched him at the sink. Her thoughts frequently centered on his thoughts when she saw him working in the house, or watching her quietly. What was on his mind?
It was a matter of trust to know that at any minute she could ask what he was thinking and be given an honest answer. It also brought a sense of power. But she believed more in power achieved through action than through words. There was more than one way to get into someone's mind, and she had been working hard to teach and train him. Often times she preferred to use subtle reinforcement, but other times she would take him down to the basement and apply discipline of a more forceful variety. Looking at him now, one thing stuck in her mind as he quietly finished washing the dishes, wearing nothing but her collar.
Gently, she put a hand on each cheek as she came up behind him, before sliding them around to his hips. She pressed her waist against his backside and leaned her head over his shoulder next to his ear. He could feel the heat radiating off of her and the sweat against his face. He relaxed back into her, yet kept washing. "Good boy," she said. Her lips kissed the place where his jaw and neck met just below his ear.
This wasn't easy for him, she knew. It required unlearning some things, which is often difficult. She had been pleased to hear he had experience with submission when they began dating, but the more they'd gotten to know each other, the more she discovered things she wanted to push on. They had both been raised a certain way, and while that mutual understanding was important to her, she had been around long enough to know those same things can sometimes stand in the way of trust, sacrifice, and obedience. And she was very concerned that this relationship start off on the right foot.
"Are you finished?" she asked as he put the last dish into the dishwasher and turned the dial.
"Yes, Ma'am," he responded.
She held onto his waist with one hand and reached down between his legs with the other. Her fingers wrapped around his balls as she cupped them in her hand. She squeezed a little firmly and impersonally. Every time she would do this, he knew precisely what it meant. It wasn't done to tease or done for his pleasure. It was done with the same detached focus she would use when tending to the other animals on the farm, he had noticed.
"It's almost 2," she informed him while applying pressure again. "And these seem pretty full. Let's get you back to the bedroom."
In spite of her remark, he knelt down on his knees there in the kitchen. He knew how this worked by now. Even though it remained somewhat awkward and humiliating. It pleased her... and something about it appealed to him, too. So he looked up longingly at her as she brought over the leash and hooked it on the collar. Down on all fours he went, crawling after her as she led him to the bedroom.
More than a few times, she had told him just how much she loves and values the honesty and transparency between them. But in the interest of being honest, she was also open about the fact that she would not tell him everything or explain everything to him. Some of what she did would seem only to be a quirky and fun little thing, whereas others would tease, confuse, and fuck with him. From some of these would come both the pleasure of seeing him obey out of trust instead of understanding, as well as the benefit of placing ideas upon his mind and training his behavior with minimal resistance.
He didn't know why she liked leading him around on a leash so much, or why exactly she had insisted that he not work outside the home. In particular, it was a mystery to him why she preferred to do most of the outdoors work herself and practically confined him to housework. She had once said that working the farm gave her fulfillment she would rather not lose, but he suspected it was more than this. Regardless, he had some sense of what it meant for her to see him trust in her without understanding everything, and sometimes, he reckoned, taking that leap of faith for someone else can teach you important new things.
In the bedroom, she led him to the end of the bed, bent him over and attached the leash to one of the bedposts. Pressing down on his back with one hand, she instructed him to fix his posture. His legs should be straight against the bed and he needed to bend at the waist.
"Spread your legs, boy," she said. He spread them apart and she reached over his balls, under his penis, and grasped it. He could never tell if her touching it like this was meant to be a tease or if it was purely a practical matter. Maybe it was both. All the same, she pulled him out from resting on top of the bed and dangled him down in front of it. Then she pulled him back an inch or two by his legs, leaving gravity to do its work.
With this done, she stood up, hands on her hips, and looked down on him. She felt like a proud hunter, basking in what she had caught. It wasn't only to make him feel vulnerable that she kept him naked in the house much of the time. She loved his body and delighted in seeing it twitch, bend, stretch, tremble, and yield to her. Her touch had been ridiculed before by boys and men who said she was too cold, too rough, not feminine enough. It had stung at the time. But seeing this naked man displayed on her bed, eager to feel her touch, made something deep inside her well up with hunger, joy, and pride.
