The Submissive Domme

I was pleased he noticed my body but a bit annoyed that he wasn't staying on the subject of last night. "I mean I really liked it. I don't think I've ever been so turned on. I'd really," I emphasized the word for good measure, "like to do it again." I could see him calculating. It was the direct opposite of his fetish, but I suspected that he'd enjoyed the previous evening as well, for its variation if nothing else. My breath caught as I waited for his response.

The blender whirled quickly and he handed me a cup of purplish-blue liquid. Blueberry, I thought, as I took a big swig. "Drink it all," he proclaimed as if it were an imperial dictum, easily slipping back into character.

"Yes, Master." I gulped it down and dropped it on the table.

"Strip."

My stomach gurgled as I pulled off my sticky T-back workout top and tights and tossed them on the couch. Next, I undid my ponytail, allowing my hair to tumble down past my shoulders the way he liked it. I stood there wordless, anticipating his comment, seeking, needing his praise.

"I want to see your form for those pushups again. It was pretty spotty last night and I told you I wanted three sets a day. You didn't do them at the gym, so it's time to do them now."

"Yes Master," I swept my long blonde hair out of the way so he could watch my back as I worked. I grunted and pressed, my chest already exhausted from a grueling workout. By the time I neared twenty-five my entire body shook.

At twenty-four he announced, "Keep going; I expect five more." I pressed upward and rested at the top. "Twenty-five; c'mon, you can do this, my pet," he said, cheering me on. One by one I kept going, resting at the top. My abs shook, my legs ached, and my pecs quaked and strained with the effort. My already warmed muscles felt like endless needles were pricking them as I worked. Never had I wanted something more, and I felt energized by his encouragement but my quivering arms failed me and I collapsed one rep too soon.

Exhausted I turned my head to the side. "Get up," he announced. "I thought you wanted to be stronger than me." His voice was distant and hard.

"I do. I'm sorry, I do, Master."

"Then we're going to have to make some changes around here."

"Anything... Master."

"You're going to have to start by adding calories -- a ton of them. I want you to eat six meals a day with a minimum of twenty-five grams of protein each time. And you didn't do the pushups today. It's like you don't even listen to your Master."

"No, but I did push..."

"Did you just tell me 'no'?" he hissed.

"I'm sorry, master," He had to see how ripe I'd become, hot juices dripping from my loins as he progressively upped the ante. If I wasn't so turned on, I might have wanted to vomit at how demeaning to women my behavior had become. I was disgusted with myself, but in no way prepared to stop the experiment.

"Drop to the floor, do another set and then get up and flex for me." I fell without complaint and banged out another thirteen pushups. On the last one, I shook so hard that the vibrations shook the dishes on the kitchen table above me. I was stuck halfway up: every instinct told me to put my knee down and finish the rep, or collapse, but instead, I kept fighting. Eventually, I reached the zenith and he began applauding me. His effusive praise made me feel like I was a new flower being nourished by the sun. I stood and flexed proudly before him, hitting a double biceps flex, marveling at how I'd been changed by a singular event the evening before.

"Hold that pose," he said as he walked around me like I was a show horse being examined at an auction. Poking, prodding, and squeezing me as he circled me, I began to shake as I held the interminable flex.

"Don't let it go," he warned, "those biceps and your forearms are going to have to get a lot stronger if they are going to beat a man." He clasped my rounded biceps between his thumb and forefinger and squeezed painfully. I muffled a gasp.

Months before I had donned a pink beanie and helped organize an equal pay day rally. I prided myself on being uncompromising in the pursuit of equality and women's liberation and yet here I was, debasing myself before a man I loved, and only growing more aroused.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk," he chided. I held his gaze as he chastised me. His eyes blazed back at me, waiting. My breath grew raspy and my heart quickened as I held his stare. Then I felt defeated, dropped my eyes, and instantly relaxed. He was my Master, I could stare at him only with his permission. My eyes flicked back up at him and a ghost of a smile grazed his lips in victory. His eyes alight in mischief, he walked back around me; my arms were now shaking violently, and I began to whimper softly, but he didn't seem to notice. I felt his hot breath on my neck as he whispered, "you need to get stronger than me."

"Yes, Master," I wheezed, my eyes fluttering in need. His lips curled into a wry smile as if he'd just unlocked a great secret. The essence of my whole being had been altered by the previous evening and he was in on what was now a quite open secret. I still didn't understand my visceral reaction, but my bullet-hard nipples and wet, craving pussy were evidence of the new reality. Never had I felt this way and I wanted -- no required more. His eyes burned into me as if waiting for more.

"Soon, Master. I'll work hard." My shoulders were burning from keeping my arms raised and my biceps shook so hard they had lost some of their firmness, but still, I didn't give in.

Finally, he nodded approvingly. "You may drop them." I lowered my arms and looked at the muscles blush with blood, longing for them to be bigger for him. He continued circling me and surveying me as I cast my eyes downward, waiting for my next command.

"I think we'll begin by practicing some servant training."

"Yes, Master."

"Good. Well, my pet, it shall proceed like this. You may not look at me or speak to me unless I ask. I'll tell you what to do, and you will comply without question. You will make your Master feel good. Do you understand me?"

It would take an idiot not to be able to figure it out, my brain wanted to scream. My body, on the other hand, almost released with the opportunity to please him. I wanted to slap myself for feeling that way, but the pull was almost magnetic -- as if I'd been brainwashed. "Yes, Master."