You called me while I was at work and while I'm always happy to hear you voice, I was especially grateful for a distraction from an especially mundane day. Our conversation was short, just the average mid-day check in, but I could tell in your voice that the need had been building. You were getting stuck in your head, lost in your emotions, nearly succumbing to the temptation to lose your identity and your place.
We had been through this before, and I had learned to recognize the signs before things became too overwhelming for you. I knew what you needed.
When we got off the phone I took a few moments to make my plans before texting you, "I am going to stop by the store after work, but I will be home no later than 6pm. I want you to be wearing a bra, garter belt, stockings and heels. All black. Make yourself pretty for me: hair and makeup done. Take care of your regular preparations and be ready for when I come for you. Do not worry about dinner. I will take care of it after."
Your reply was simple, "Yes sir." But, I could almost see the relief and excitement I was sure was on your face.
I got home right at 6 and walked in to find you waiting for me at the door, dressed as I had instructed. I didn't even close the door behind me before dropping my shopping bag, stepping to you, grabbing the back of your head and pulling your mouth to mine. Our tongues danced and explored as I pulled you tight against me, one hand buried in your hair the other firmly clutching your ass. I felt your hands on my back, nails digging to claw at my skin even through my shirt.
After a moment I grabbed your shoulders and pushed you a step back. "Let me look at you," I growled. You stood there obediently while I let my eyes appreciate your body. "Turn around." You did, letting me see how well the panties you'd chosen highlighted your ass.
I grunted, fully consumed by my ape-brain and unable to formulate adequate words. I stepped up behind you wrapping one arm around your waist and running my other hand up your throat, pushing your chin up until your head rested against my shoulder. "You chose well," I growled in your ear.
"Thank you, sir," you said.
"Turn around and stay here. I have a little present for you."
I closed the door and reached into the bag to pull out the first little gift I had gotten for you. I held it up for you to see. It was a simple black collar with a little silver clasp. One one side in silver lettering was a single word, "MINE."
"I saw this the other day and have been thinking how good it would feel to see you wearing it. I just had to go back and get it for you," I said. Your eyes lit with excitement as you eyed your new collar. Expectantly you lifted your chin, exposing your neck for me to put the collar around your throat. I gently wrapped the collar around your neck, cinching it tight, just before the level of discomfort. I could also see worry and stress evaporate from your body as the truth of your ownership registered in your mind.
I traced the edge of your collar with a finger tip before wrapping a hand around your throat. I squeezed, not enough pressure to cut off your air, but just enough to remind you that I could. I kept my grip firm as I let my thumb graze the skin of your neck. Your lips parted just a bit and your breath caught in your throat for a second in that cute little way you do when you get really excited.
It was then that I realized my need as well. I had known, the moment I heard you on the phone, that you needed this reminder, that you needed to feel my hands on you. And I was eager to provide you what you needed that night. I had been so focused on what you needed that I had not paid attention to my own need.
It was then with my hand around your throat, the feel of your pulse on my fingers, and your eyes locked on mine that I realized that just as much as you needed to feel my hands on you, I needed to feel your body beneath me.
"How hard?" I asked.
You understood the question. We had established this rule long before. At times I gave you the choice, allowed you to pick between one and ten to determine how firm you wanted me to be. One generally consisted of a light spanking. Ten generally meant you were unable to go out in public for a few days.
"I trust you, sir," you said.
I smiled, "Oh you are a needy little thing today, aren't you?"
"Yes sir," you said with an adorable amount of desperation.
I tightened my grip on your throat and swung my other hand, slapping your across your face. The sudden shift to violence must have taken you by surprise because you gasped and tears immediately formed in your eyes.
"You got stuck in that little head of your again, didn't you?" I asked. I didn't give you time to answer before I slapped you again. "You let yourself think too much of yourself. Started wondering who you are, what you are good for. Didn't you?"
"Yes sir."
I slapped you twice more, once on each cheek. "But I have told you what you are, haven't I?"
"Yes sir."
Again my hand met your face. Your cheeks were starting to turn red and splotchy. "And what did I tell you that you are?"