"...When you greet me at your door I want you to be wearing your dildo-pants. Oh, and wear them under your tightest pair of jeans. I'm taking you out tonight, and yes; I do want you wearing them out in public. I'll see you in a bit," I said, and then hung up without giving her a chance to respond.
I knew from the way I had worded my 'request' that it almost guaranteed her non-compliance; it was the 'out in public' part that she would balk at. I was counting on that. In order to get a proper start to her slave training, I wanted her to commit a suitably serious breach of obedience.
You see we had been playing dominant/submissive games for some time now. I had learned early in our relationship that being dominated sexually turned her on, a lot! She was a sexual submissive by nature. At the same time, however, she was also a highly intelligent and strong-willed person: to the point of stubbornness at times. Needless to say, she required a strong, dominant man to help her realize her role as a properly submissive sexual slave.
To date, I had not been that strong, dominant man. While I fantasized about dominating her and making her my sexual slave, in trying to make my fantasy a reality, I found that I was fighting my early childhood conditioning. My parents had raised me to honor and respect women: this in a time when women were still striving to realize equality. As a result, I was fighting a deep-seated belief that dominating a woman was demeaning, and therefore wrong. That 'wrongness', while great fodder for exciting fantasies, also created in practice, a hurdle that needed to be overcome before I could be an effective dominant.
In our most intimate conversations, she had more than hinted that there was almost nothing she would not do for a suitably dominant Master. That while she looked the part, she was not some delicate flower that would be scared off by the things I wanted to do to her. Even with that encouragement, something held me back.
Over time I noticed that she was challenging my hesitant attempts at dominance more and more frequently. Every time I asked her to do something, she would question it or treat it as a request and have a ready (and rational) excuse as to why she shouldn't or couldn't do it.
I'm not entirely dense. It was obvious that she was goading me. She was sending a clear message: If you want to dominate me, then dominate me. Don't make requests and don't accept my excuses. Physically dominate me and MAKE me do your will. Quite simply, her message was: quit being a wimp.
After coming to this realization, I did some soul-searching. I knew she was right. I was letting my fear of losing her respect; perhaps of losing her completely, hold me back. I understood that while she loved me and trusted me, the truth was that she could never truly respect me until I came to terms with my insecurities, conquered the fears that held me back, and so allow my dominant nature full reign.
Like any dilemma, I knew that this issue simply came down to a choice. I could continue behaving the way I had been, which for lack of a better term was timid, or I could chose to change my thoughts and actions. I chose to put my personal insecurities, and my fear of losing her, where they belonged: behind me. I would put my trust in the knowledge that she loved me, trusted me, and truly longed for me to physically dominate her sexually. I would also take her at her word that she would do pretty much anything that I ordered her to do; at least within those personal boundaries that we had negotiated earlier in our relationship.
I would, with no more hesitation, take on the strong dominant role, and in so doing force her into the submissive role that I knew she craved.
When she answered the door, she was wearing a pair of snug jeans and a tight, sexy top. Before I even came in I asked her point-blank, "are you wearing your dildo-pants like I asked?"
"No," she responded, her tone suggesting I had asked a silly question. She was testing me, again.
"I see," I said as I walked in and closed the door. "Come here," I instructed, as I walked past her towards the living room. To reinforce my instruction, I grabbed her upper arm and forced to come with me.
This was something I had never actually done before: physically forcing her. I knew from previous conversations with her that even a minor dominance display such as this could make her instantly wet.
Once in the living room I stopped and faced her, then said, "I think it's about time we had a meeting of minds here," I paused significantly before going on. "You enjoy being sexually dominated, don't you?" I made it sound more like a statement than a question.
"Yes," she said in a small voice. She looked a little taken aback when I asked her this question, but then her body language suddenly became very submissive.
"Indeed, we both know that."
"Well just to be clear," I said, grabbing her by the shoulders and pushing her back a step till her back was pressed firmly against the door jam; my face only inches away from hers. "Starting today, starting right now, I'm going to do just that. I'm going to sexually dominate you. In fact," I said, "from now on, I'm claiming you as my personal sex slave.
The act of pushing her up against a wall and pinning her there was another dominance display she had once told me was powerfully erotic for her.
"Tell me, does the thought of being forced to cater to my desires excite you? Does the prospect arouse you?" I asked.
I noticed a flash of surprise and perhaps even a bit of anticipation cross her face as I was talking. Then, "Yes," she responded timidly, dropping her gaze.
"Yes
Master!
" I quickly corrected her.
"Yes Master," She repeated, glancing up at me. I found her surprise at the change in my behavior very gratifying.
"Very good, slave," I said, pulling my face back a bit from hers while continuing to hold her against the door jam. "Tonight I will explain to you, in detail, your new role. At the same time, you start your training. You're going to learn exactly what I expect of you as my slave. But first, I want you to go upstairs and prepare yourself for me. Go up, take off all your clothes, put on your leather slave collar and your wrist restraints, and then come back down here to me," I Instructed. "Now go," I said, as I turned her around and gave her a slap to her butt to get her moving.
As she walked up the stairs, I called after her, "Bring your blindfold down with you as well... and hurry, you don't want to keep your Master waiting."
Once she had disappeared upstairs, I went into the dining room and moved the chairs out of the way so that I had access to the whole long side of the big sturdy dining table. I laid out a 12" flexible plastic ruler that I had brought with me, having slid it into the back waistband of my pants when I got out of the car.
Not too long after I had finished my own preparations, she came back down the stairs and into the living room, properly attired and looking very timid. She had the blindfold in her right hand. I noticed with approval that she had shaved for me in anticipation of my arrival. She knew that I liked her pussy clean-shaven.
"Come here," I ordered, holding out my hand. She came to me and put the blindfold in my open hand. I turned her so that she was facing away from me. The blindfold, which I now fastened over her eyes, was made from leather, lined with rabbit fur. It was designed so that she would not be able to see anything. Using the clips attached to her wrist restraints, I secured her hands so they were bound behind her back.
Seizing her, again by her upper arm, I guided her carefully into the dining room. Maneuvering her so that she was standing with the front of her thighs up against the table, I ordered, "Bend over." Helping her down onto the table, I said, "Spread your legs." She moved them a bit. "More," I said. She spread them further. When I was satisfied with her positioning, I moved so that I was standing to the right of her. Placing my right hand in the middle of her back, I held her down and in position against the table.
She had teased me in the past; saying that I couldn't threaten to spank her as a means of discipline, because getting spanked turned her on. She was in for a surprise. I picked up the plastic ruler with my left hand.
As an experiment early in our relationship, I had used a plastic ruler as a spanking implement. Even used fairly lightly it had stung quite unpleasantly, so we had not used it again: until now.
I told her, "I'm going to start your training by giving you two strikes on your ass with a plastic ruler, one on each cheek. They're going to hurt...a lot. Prepare yourself." After a short pause, I put action to words; lining up and hitting her left cheek 'SLAP,' hard enough that it left a slight red mark almost immediately. She jerked slightly, but otherwise was silent. I lined up with her right cheek and hit it slightly harder 'SLAP.' Still she didn't make a sound, but I knew it had smarted: I had used it on my own thigh earlier to gage what it felt like.
"Do I have your attention?" I asked her. She was silent. "No? Ok," I said, my tone very matter of fact, and hit the left cheek somewhat harder than the last. 'SLAP.' Still nothing. "I'm in no hurry. Let me know when I have your attention." I hit her right cheek again, hard. 'SMACK!'
"OK!" she said abruptly.
"Do I have your attention now?"
"Yes," she said meekly, her breathing getting slightly heavier. Suddenly I hit her again. SLAP!
"Yes, what?" I demanded.
"Yes Master," She said contritely.
