Ally is standing obediently in the center of the living room, naked apart from the jewellery I insist adorns her exposed flesh. She wears a silver tiara in her hair and heavy dangling ear-rings that catch the candlelight with each slight movement of her head.
White Lilies scattered around the room emanate a subtle fragrance.
She is blindfolded and unaware of what I have planned for her. Continuing down her naked body, Ally has a silver choker around her neck and several silver chains falling between her perky breasts. Both of her upper arms are adorned with silver armlets and her fore-arms jangle with a myriad of bracelets as she mildly strokes her clitoris.
Two silver chains hang from her waist, crossing on her naked hip. Ally has more silver chains around her ankles and her fingers are slightly constrained by silver rings that join across all four fingers.
Ally looks resplendent, beautiful and tentatively submissive in the gentle glow of the candles. It is not so much that the jewellery compliments her beauty, but more that her sensuality gives a purpose to the jewellery.
I love to see her looking so radiant, so aware of her sensuality and her confidence in the affect it has on me. She wears a white lily in her hair.
Ally has been standing for some time, stroking her clitoris, her mouth slightly apprehensive at the unknown flowering of the evening. I can be a cruel man.
Attached to each of Ally's nipples is a thin wire, tied into a slip knot and then tightened around each nipple. The wire hangs taught across the room and out of the door.
Ally's nipples are large and prominent; enough for her to self consciously wear padded bras. In the security of our relationship Ally stands with her nipples fully exposed, stroking herself in expectation of the evening.
I love the lines around her mouth and eyes, lines of experience, lines of a fully aware woman. Not for me, the empty thrills of young submissive women.
There is no real satisfaction in training a young submissive, it lacks any real challenge. They are too malleable.
Ally is middle aged, mature and fully aware of her sensuality.
Before meeting me, her sex life had been straight as an arrow. How different her journey now, standing naked, biting her bottom lip in endearing anxiety, submitting herself to my whims and strangely never having been found as beautiful or as admired as she is right now.
Her jewellery glitters in the flickering candlelight, accentuating the slight movements of her hands as she strokes her clitoris.
I have transformed Ally from the middle aged suburban housewife and her mundane existence into a creature of profound beauty; the exotic submissive woman who strokes herself before me.
Walking over to Ally I take in the scent of her arousal. Ally will not orgasm without permission and it has been several months since I allowed her the pleasure. Ally has even begged me not to have to touch herself because she finds her denial so overwhelming.
Ally's little struggles are always a beauty to behold. As beautiful, intricate and delicate as a white lily.
I gently guide her hands away from her wet pussy and place her hands on the taught wire.
"Follow the trail, Ally."
I gently stroke her prominent nipples.
Ally obeys, giving the wire a gentle tug. The wire gives a little and then suddenly Ally cries out as her nipples are yanked hard by the wire. She totters forwards, her jewellery tinkling and jangling. Instinctively, Ally's hands cover her nipples.
Ally's expression is an endearing mix of confusion, pain and humility.
"Keep going"
Tentatively Ally takes hold of the wire again. Instead of pulling on it, this time she keeps a hold of the wire and steps forward, chains jangling, taking the slack in and then stepping forward again. Ally is very unsure, her blind, jangling steps are wary; her mouth shows her concentration and tension.
It takes quite a while for the wire to reveal its secret, but eventually Ally makes her way from the warm lounge, along the hallway and takes a nervous step into the kitchen, still anxiously unaware of what awaits.
The warm white lily fragrance is gone. In its place are cold kitchen tiles and the smell of household cleaners.
A few feet away from Ally, also blindfolded, is Amanda. The two women share an office and do not like each other. I encourage their animosity, it provides many possibilities.
Amanda is similarly naked with her own vast amount of silver jewellery dangling and swaying with her every movement. She wears a red orchid in her hair. The end of the wires are attached to both women's nipples.
Neither woman is yet aware of the others presence.
The two women stumble carefully forward, step by step, nearer to each other, both anxiously trying to avoid a sudden tug on their sensitive nipples.
A foot apart the two women sense each other. Ally is five foot two, a good six inches smaller than Amanda.
"Keep winding up the wire until you reach the end."
Both women think I am talking only to them.
Ally takes another step forward and collides with Amanda, Ally's face squashing into Amanda's chest. They both stand stock still, trying to assess the situation in their blindfolds, ears straining for a hint from me.
I know they have a hundred questions and only their faith in me and their training maintains their position in this cruel game.
"Find the end of your trail"
The two women fumble with the wire, in close proximity to one another now and eventually Ally's ringed fingers follow the wire and make tentative contact with Amanda's nipples.
I wait until both women are standing holding each others nipples, waiting for my commands.
They know now that they are in competition this evening. This has never happened before as both women have been trained separately.
I can see the defensiveness in their body language.
Their arms collide occasionally in the struggle, silver bangles clinking against bracelets, naked arms touching as they hold each others nipples.
I cut the wires and then tie the ends together. Ally and Amanda are now attached to each other, nipple to nipple by three inches of wire.
Ally's small, perky breasts are pulled upwards just as Amanda's are pulled down as a result of the difference in their heights.
I remove their blindfolds and the two middle aged women find themselves staring at each other in the cold light of the fluorescent beam.
This is a moment to savor. Two proud middle aged women, both with a secret submissive streak suddenly exposed to each other.
Their secret selves exposed: Red Orchid and white lily.
In addition, their breasts are placed in a situation of conflict, of comparison and competition. Their breasts, so often a symbol of women's sexuality, now exposed to each other and placed in direct opposition to each other.
I know these women dislike each other and their mutual humiliation is a delectable pleasure.
They stand staring at each other, clearly uncomfortable. Both are vulnerable, both women compete in their mundane world, battling out petty vendettas within the safe boundaries of polite society.
These expectations have been removed.
There is no room for passive aggression here. Here the two women must face each other naked and boldly. There is no garden fence to hide behind, no workplace decorum, no turning back.
Each woman has been granted the privilege of seeing the other stripped of their everyday defenses. The fluorescent light is cruel and unforgiving, exposing the women's flaws to each other in a ghastly glow.
