09

Chapter 6:

I stood in Taylor's house, waiting after having been dropped off by the wonderful and beautiful Natalie, staring out through the plate glass window, watching the little bonsai tree as it swayed in the gentle breeze.

It was raining, and the day was dark and dreary.

There was something about that tree that intrigued me. Something peaceful and full of stillness that I, for some reason, craved.

I was never a person that found water, or fountains, or gardens of any type peaceful. They had always seemed to be an enormous waste of time and money, or a show of boastful wealth that I had never found to be attractive.

That little tree though, drew my attention...

A part of me wondered if Natalie knew about Taylor and I's arrangement.

She seemed the type that had full access to what her boss was doing, or at least the type that was smart enough to figure it out, but at the same time she also seemed like the career driven woman type that would most likely not understand and wouldn't approve of our relationship.

The more I thought about it though, the more I decided that it didn't matter. How she reacted or what she thought was between her and her boss.

A door opened behind me and I heard heels on the marble floor.

Finally.

Turning, I walked towards Taylor.

She really was a beautiful woman.

I was really going to enjoy the time I spent with her...

She walked to me, extending an elegant hand to me, which I took.

She smiled, excitement shining in her eyes, "I've been waiting to see you all week..."

It had been four weeks since our first meeting, and I could see the mounting frustration in her as our meetings went on and on and on.

She wanted to play almost immediately and was obviously annoyed with me at the pace that I took things.

Not that I really much cared what she thought or what she wanted. A D/s, Dominant/submissive, relationship was built on a foundation of trust, and trust was the first cornerstone of what I was attempting to build with Taylor.

Plus, I wasn't charging her a fig for the time we spent together.

In fact, I was currently out of pocket for the supplies and planning that I had put together for her, so if she wanted to rush things and kick me to the curb, so be it.

I also wanted to ensure that I had the perfect idea of what she was going to be comfortable with and what she wasn't going to be comfortable with. I needed to know her intimately and understand what her desires were better than she herself did and while she didn't like the time spent, I thought it had gone swimmingly. A good Dom understood the things that drove people and where their limits were...

Limits which they themselves were unwilling to even admit to themselves.

She nibbled at her lip, "Please, dear god tell me that we're not just going to talk more...?"

I smiled at her, "Like I told you last week, I think you and I are ready to play. Would you like to play today?"

There was a look of lust that clouded its way into her eyes, "Yes!"

Nodding, I took her hand, walking her to the couch.

She followed me, her hand warm in my own as we walked.

Stopping by the couch, I turned to face her, my finger coming up, caressing the side of her face, "Do you submit to me?"

She nodded, "Yes."

Her tone was serious, nearly reverential...

Her eyes dropped to the floor and there was some animalistic part of me that surged in triumph at her show of humility and submission...

A smile slipped onto my face, "That makes me happy."

Her eyes came up sheepishly, "That's good..."

Looking down at her, I was happy to see that she had dressed as I had asked her to.

Short of our first meeting I had had her dress in sweats and a baggy tee shirt. It was a plan that served two purposes.

Firstly, it put her in a comfortable frame of mind.

The clothes were comfortable and relaxed and that small change had put her in a relaxed mood. That, in turn had made her more open to discussing her sexuality and her interests, which was a vital part of what I needed in order to craft an enjoyable experience for her.

The second reason I had had her wear comfortable clothes was for today.

Today I had ordered her to wear her normal, everyday business wear...

I knew the heart of most of her kind centered around her control and her work life. While there was a part of her that relished the control and power that she had there was another part of her that wanted to be able to just let go of that responsibility and revel in the moment.

I wanted her to feel that loss of control that she sought and so I had had her dress the way she did at work. I wanted to encourage her mind to be in a space where she stopped equating herself to someone with absolute power and started to think of herself as someone that was allowed to be vulnerable and submissive...

Taking her chin in my hand, I gently raised her eyes to my own, my voice a throaty rumble as I looked into her eyes, "I'm going to hurt you today. You know that, don't you?"

Her head wobbled weakly in my hand as excitement filled her eyes, "Yes."

My cheek twitched a little as I repressed a smile...

I stepped closer to her, engulfing her in my shadow.

To her credit, she didn't step back, "You are going to be my plaything today, aren't you, little lady?"

Her brown eyes poured into me, "Yes, sir."

I took a step back and away from her, looking down on her.

She was an amazing woman. Of middling height. Trim and beautiful, with just the right curves in just the right places.

I had to admit, the shape of her excited me and her submissive attitude pushed it to the next level for me.

She wasn't as beautiful as Mia...

The thought popped into my mind randomly, surprising me.

I forced it back, trying to make myself focus on the moment. Thoughts like those were normal and natural, but were still a distraction that I could not afford.

Taylor, and our play session, needed my full and complete attention.

Still holding her face in my hand, I ordered her, "Put your hands behind your back. Keep them there until I order you otherwise. Do you understand?"

There was a primal excitement in her eyes as she nodded, placing her hands behind her back, "Yes, sir."

Releasing her face, I reached into my pocket, fishing out the switchblade I had stored there.

It wasn't a true switchblade. Those were illegal in Washington State, and much as I enjoyed the theatricality of that type of knife, I was not willing to run afoul of the law to put on a show.

The knife, to the untrained eye, which I was sure Taylor was, appeared nearly identical to a switchblade.

There were several key differences however. The first was that a true switchblade had a double-edged blade, meaning that both the spine and the blade of the knife were sharp.

This knife only had a razor finish on one edge, the front side. The backside had a clear taper, but was not sharp. It looked sharp, but was in reality completely safe. I loved that as it was a perfect knife for those that loved knife play. I could cut ropes, or clothes or bonds with one edge and then with a subtle flip simple turn the knife around and run the non-edged side over flesh, which was a hell of a lot safer.

Sometimes that was my job, keeping people safe from their own kinks.

The second major difference between this knife was that a true switchblade was completely spring loaded, meaning you pressed a button and the blade popped out. This knife was spring assisted, meaning that I had to press the button and then give my wrist a little flick to get the blade to pop out. Again, an expert would notice, but I had been so smooth with it that no one that I had yet used the knife with had caught on.

With a flick of my wrist, the blade popped out, making a satisfying little click as it deployed.

There was a satisfying widening of Taylor's eyes as she saw the blade...

I tilted my head, "Do you trust me," I leaned on the words as I said, "my pet?"

She looked down demurely as she pressed her knees together, "Yes, sir."

A wide smile slid onto my face, "Good girl..."

Slowly, aware of the fact that I was using a live blade near her, I brought the blade to the top button of her bone-white blouse. Wedging the blade in under the button, I gave it the gentlest of turns.

Snick.

The button dropped to the floor, bouncing satisfactorily as it slid away under some unknown piece of furniture.

I could see her cringe as I cut the button, her blouse starting to fall open, revealing what hinted to be impressive cleavage...

I studied her carefully as I moved the blade down, setting it beneath the next button...

Snick.

She again cringed as the button fell away...

My smile grew wider.

I knew that this was going to be a perfect plan.

My voice cut the silence between us, "Does that bother you?"

I added a tone of venom to my voice as I added, "Be honest."

She kept her eyes off me as she answered, her voice barely a whisper, "Yes."

I moved the knife to the next button, "Well, that's too bad..."

Snick.

Her blouse was beginning to fall open, showing me that I was one hundred percent right that she had impressive breasts...

I continued, "Because these are the type of clothes a lady wears, and you..."

Snick.

"Are not a lady, are you, whore?"

This was a touchy spot, so I watched her carefully...

If she was a poser, that word might set her off. If she was just someone that was bored and lonely, or I had missed the point entirely in my interviews with her, calling her a whore would not get the reaction out of her that I wanted.

Instead of blowing up though, she did this weird little dance, kind of bouncing her hips a little while she pressed her knees together.

It was awkward, but I had to admit it was cute as hell...

It must have been something she did when she was excited, because I got no hint of anger out of her...

Time to turn the volume up...

Quickly I folded the knife, using the outside of my leg against the spine of the knife, being extremely careful of the blade with my fingers and shoving it into my pocket, "You know what, now that I think of it..."

I reached both hands into her now open shirt and yanked hard.

The last four buttons on her blouse exploded into the room as fabric somewhere in her shirt gave a satisfying ssssshhhhhhrrrrriiiiiiippppp!

She stumbled a little from the force I put on her, but other than that, she kept her eyes down, her excitement visibly building as she did her little dance again...

Reaching roughly into her bra, I pulled the fabric down, exposing her ample breasts...

My heart nearly stopped as I saw them.

They were near perfect...

I had to admit; I had a moment of shear panic as I forgot myself...

With a shake I was happy to know she missed with her eyes on the floor, I growled, "It's about time I got to see these luscious tits of yours..."

"You could have just asked, I would have shown..."

My hand snapped up, grabbing her chin gently, but firmly, shutting her up.

The words must have just started to pour out of her, which was cute.

"Have I unzipped my pants?" I asked.

Her eyes searched in panic as her mind tried to catch what I was saying, obviously torn between looking me directly in the eye and looking demurely away as she answered, "No."

I gripped her chin harder, "At least you're smart enough to understand that. If I want any lip from you, I'll unzip my pants. Until then, you speak when you're spoken to, understand, submissive?"

I really leaned into the word submissive, filling it with every ounce of scorn that I possibly could.

She nodded, but did not speak...

I slapped her... very, very lightly on the cheek, testing the waters and her knees did that weak thing again, so I took that as a sign she liked that...

"I asked you a fucking question bitch." I growled as I wrapped a hand around her throat, pulling her close...

I was extremely careful not to choke her, or to put too much pressure on the arteries in her neck...

Breath and choke play were extremely dangerous and even a few seconds of restricted blood or airflow increased the risk of stroke and death astronomically. I wanted to have fun with her, but I had no intention of going to prison over something so fucking idiotically stupid. It was such a shame it was such a powerfully erotic thing...

Taylor reacted by grabbing my arm, pulling herself in close. On the surface it looked like she was fighting me, but I could feel her actually pulling herself into the choke, trying to get me to actually restrict her breathing.

So, quick recap.

She liked humiliation, as she said.

She enjoyed a little light slapping, which I was going to have to test out.

And she loved being choked.

Like I said, I was really going to enjoy my time with her.

Tightening my grip just a little tiny bit, again being careful not to actually restrict anything, I lifted her up, forcing her up on her tippy toes to keep me from actually choking her.

I gave her a little shake, "I said, do you understand?"

Her response was strained, but healthy, "Yes, sir."

I let her down suddenly, pulling my hand from her neck.

Again, on the surface, it looked like I completely dumped her, but the truth was I made sure that she actually had her balance and was able to stay on her feet without assistance. If she had buckled, I would have caught her, but she did not, which was fortunate.

A lot of BDSM was not about reality, it was about appearances. If it appeared to Taylor that I did something, then it pushed her buttons and was erotic for her. That didn't mean that it had to be real. There was a fine line. She needed to be teased and poked and prodded, but she also needed to have the appearance of real danger when there was none present.

Not all subs were like that, but Taylor had a masochistic streak, so without pain or danger she was not getting her fantasy fulfilled...

As soon as I knew she was on her feet on her own I turned from her, heading over the chair that was next to the rather large luggage bag that I had brought with me.

Seating myself, I crossed my legs, taking a moment to appear as if I were adjusting my cufflinks, which I was sure were fine...

Taylor stayed where she was, which was good.

Lazily, I glanced up at her, filling my voice with disdain as I dripped venom, "Why are you still clothed?"

She glanced up shyly, before her eyes flashed to the floor...

It was an unfair question, and I knew it. She had no good answer, so I gave her a quick out, "I thought we already established those are clothes fit for a lady, and you're just a dirty whore, take them off."

It was like I had slapped her.

I knew I should feel bad for her. Knew that I was pressing buttons that she didn't even realize she had, but I was on a role and I could feel the darkness rising in me, could feel that side of me that delighted in causing pain and misery come crawling out of its hole to howl and scream at the moon now that he had been released.

There was nothing sexy about her as she stripped.

She lost the shirt.

She lost her skirt.

She pulled off her shoes, and rolled down her stockings, more mechanical than magical.

She hovered just for a moment at her underwear... a little bit of shyness in her as she did...

"I said, lose the clothes, bitch..." I told her, growling.

Slowly, she reached back, unclasping her bra and letting it fall to the floor.

Her boobs spilled loose, pert and perky. I knew from her profile that she was only thirty-two, so a year older than myself, but I was still impressed that she had done such a great job maintaining her figure, especially as a working professional that I was sure put in absolutely brutal hours.

Next, she lost the black, matching panties...

She had herself shaved down below, the brief, tiny patch of hair at the head of her mound the only evidence of any hair whatsoever.

It was immensely sexy and the urge to simply go to her, push her over the nearest piece of furniture and mount her then and there was nearly impossible for me to stand against.

I had to remind myself that this session was about her, it wasn't about me, even as much as appearances might suggest otherwise...

To her credit, she remembered that I had told her to put her hands behind her back and returned them there as soon as she was finished stripping for me.

I pointed to the floor at my feet, "Kneel. Here. Now."

She walked to me; her feet silent on the marble floor as she pattered over. Dutifully, she knelt, which I knew had to be immensely uncomfortable on such a hard surface.

Normally, I would have provided a pillow, but I knew she was the type that would most likely enjoy the pain, so this time I let it slide, but I made a mental note to check her during the aftercare session to ensure that she was perfectly okay with that type of thing.

"Look at me," I ordered, waiting for her eyes to come up and meet mine.

Reaching over the arm of the chair, I fished into the bag until I found the wooden box within and pulled it out...

It was a beautiful box, and I was sad to say, it was not something I had made. I loved making the implements I used with clients but some things, like most toys and wooden boxes and such were too time consuming for me to waste time with.

Running my hand over the surface of the box, I told her, "I have a gift for you."

Her doe full eyes looked up at me, burning in the light of the room and I reminded myself that next time I needed to dim the lights to something a little more intimate...

Turning the box so that I could reveal the contents, I opened the box, showing Taylor the training collar, I had made for her...

Her mouth opened a little as she saw it and I saw the amazement in her eyes.

I had to admit; I was extremely proud of the craftmanship.

It was three inches of twelve-ounce leather wide, with a king's mail, stainless steel chainmail inset that stretched the entire length. I had taken the rivets that held the three layers of leather together and had interspaced and skipped the ring patterning between them in a way that I had never tried, but was immensely pleased with...

The buckles and d-ring were in stainless steel, the stitching done in an extremely fine sterling silver wire that had been an absolute bitch to work with...

I had worked the edges of the leather with sandpaper going all the way up to four-hundred grit and then spent nearly two hours on the edges with a polishing wheel until the leather was so smooth it looked completely melted together...

It was the type of rig that I knew that I could easily sell for a thousand dollars.

"This is your training collar. I will give it to you, but in exchange, you agree that while you wear it, you are my property. You may remove it at any time. You may return it at any time. If you call out red, the collar comes off and we return to being equals, but while it is around your neck..." I looked deep into her eyes, "you belong to me."

I removed the collar from the box, holding the smooth, surprisingly heavy piece in my hands, "Do you accept?"

She nodded eagerly, looking up and offering her neck to me...

I held a finger up, "No."

Her eyes snapped back to mine...

I leaned forward, offering her the collar, "You give me your submission of your own free will. It is not something that I can force onto and this collar, as a symbol of that submission is the same thing. At each of our sessions, you will bring it to me, you will kneel at my feet, you will ask my permission to wear it, and you will place it about your own neck. Do you understand?"

There was a weird, fierce pride in her as she nodded her head, "Yes, sir."

I allowed her a brief nod, "Very good then."

I handed the collar to her, which she took reverentially, "It is yours, my gift to you. I will never ask for it back and I will remember at all times that you wear it that I have a responsibility to you, as your owner, to see that you are safe and well cared for."