Adventures Of Gwen Pt 01

For my gracious readers, work interrupts, but the stories remain.

Gwen is a most spectacular submissive, and I hope that you will find her ongoing adventures as delightful as I do.

For those who may quibble with the classification, Dominance and Submission is my very nature, but I find much more satisfaction in conscious consent than coercion. The willing exchange of power from the woman to her Master is Life itself.

Your votes of 5 at the end are always valued. Do Enjoy!

*****

She knew better, but she sat there and watched the door, waiting for him to let himself in.

As always, his instructions had been precise, but she was ready a half hour early because she knew how unpredictable he could be - and how much she loved his surprising her.

She had given him a key, so she sat there where she could watch the door and grab him as soon as he came through the door. She fiddled with her phone absent-mindedly, wondering how he would surprise her with this time.

Gwen's mind tingled with barely suppressed excitement; other parts of her had been tingling since last night. She had to admit that she was glad he had specified that she wear underwear, otherwise she would have made a mess of her dress already.

Her mind drifted back to the first time he had instructed her to take her panties off in the middle of the workday. There was the part of her that was indignant, but the larger part of her was aroused, and she quickly went into the washroom and slipped her panties off and into her purse. It happened again the next day, and she laughed, wondering how long it would be until her entire drawer of lingerie was packed into her purse.

Those memories warmed her, and increased her arousal at that same time. Gwen's smiled as the wave of arousal rolled over her and lifted her. She had known enough men to know that most were cut of the same cloth; that is what was so intriguing about him. His ability to drive her to orgasm was unmatched by any other man, but the way he got inside her mind was remarkable.

For a moment she thought she heard someone outside, and she was half way across the room before she got control of herself, slowly willed herself back into the chair at the table. Staring at the door, she started mouthing "Op-en, op-en, op-en ...". Gwen was not a patient woman, and the longer she waited, the more she craved his voice, his touch.

Her eyes closed unbidden, and she drifted back in time, feeling his hands on her. Strong arms around her, squeezing, grasping, controlling her. Her hands fell to her lap, and they began to trace her thighs, just as his did. His touch was purposeful, but slow, almost wistful in it's patterns.

As much as he knew her mind, could anticipate her desires, he was unpredictable and elusive. She often tried to capture his hands or his head, even as he was constantly touching and moving across her body. It was heady and exhilarating as much as it was maddening. He never tired of the chase, and laughed quietly as she sighed or snorted in frustration. When she grew ready to strike him in anger, he was at her neck, body pressed on her, whispering and willing her to calm even as his touch brought fire to her loins.

She became aware that her hands had snaked inside her dress and pulled aside her panties to stroke her pussy. One hand holding her lips together, she alternated soft and firm touches, drawing out her orgasm as he had trained her. She could do much better with his direction, but she had learned the joy of a long, drawn-out orgasm.

Her fingers playing with her pussy lips, pressing her lovely juices inside of her, she jumped in her seat at the doorbell. Her forefinger slid insider of her when she jumped, and she coiled in ecstasy as she landed on her hand, driving the finger suddenly deeper. Clouded in lust, she moved to the door more slowly, tugging at her clothes to appear civil.

She had no idea who it was, but her Midwest training drove her to be cordial even if it was the damn JW's. She paused before the entrance, and sought to focus her thoughts before opening the door. When she swung the door open, the burst of natural sunlight blinded her, and it was a moment before she realized no one was there.

Gwen's anger started to rise, and then she saw the tall plant with the oversized bow, and her heart melted again. He had sent her a gift, and his care touched her. With others it was sex before she got real intimacy, cuddling, holding - with him, the care and love preceded the primal coupling.

Not because she insisted; she would gladly give herself to him in any way he would take her at any time, but because this was his nature. He loved performance, anticipation, playing with her before he actually took her.

Her eyes adjusting, she saw the card attached to the bow, and leaned down to open the card. His scrawl was broad and sweeping, and having confirmed this was from him, she wanted to get the plant inside before she read the card. Taking the card in her teeth, she bent down to wrestle the plant into the house - it was almost as tall as she was.

Bent over tugging on the plant's pot, she felt a body close against her, and driving her forward almost into the plant. She started to cry out until she heard his voice, "Here, let me help you with that Dear."

Gwen's body shivered at his voice, and she felt her pussy clinch as he picked her up and carried her back inside. She heard him kick the door shut as he spun her around, and she drank in the feeling of his arms and chest confining her.

He set her down in the living room and she tried to spin in his arms so that she should see him. He was having none of that, his body surging against her to hold her in place even as he adjusted himself to his full height. He stood a head above her, but she could feel his breath on her neck now, his hands on her hips and obliques, stroking, pressing, further inflaming her desire.

Her head felt heavy, and she let it slip forward as his hands worked their magic, touching, squeezing, caressing, driving her passion ever higher. She felt her need grow, but she slipped into that peaceful state where she awaited his command to cum - she knew how delicious it was when she was obedient and waited to cum.

"Take your panties off little girl." The command was simple and terse, but a jolt of electricity ran from her brain to her pussy as the implications registered. Her childhood had not been easy, but when HE called her little girl, the years slipped away, but this time she was safe and loved.

As lustful as Gwen was, a private world opened up when he spoke to her in this way, and she grew quiet and demure. That, however, did not hinder her in the least in skinning off her panties, clearing her high heels in a fluid motion.

Her scent filled the room, and she hear him inhale slowly. His exhale was a slow growl, and there was a primal part of Gwen that gleamed in pride as her scent brought out the animal in him. She twitched with excitement as she waited for him to mount her. With him it was never "just sex", it was the taking of the female by the male aggressor who could not be refused. It was as intimate as it was absolute; she had known excellent sex, but she had never felt so wonderfully taken and possessed.

With her at a fever pitch, that is when he simply ordered "Kneel".

The sigh of frustration escaped before she could capture the thought, and the response was immediate - a sharp smack on the ass that resulted in her ass stinging and her pussy clenching.

"You know better Dear, obey." The words delivered quietly and evenly. The same hand began to rub and squeeze her ass cheek, and the pain was consumed in a wave of fresh lust. She quickly settled on the floor in front of him, kneeling, hands on her thighs, head down, awaiting his command.

As she mastered her body with some difficulty, he could feel her smile even before he saw it. She knew he insisted on eye to eye contact when she knelt, and she would be able to see his face soon. He suspected she would accept quite a bit of discipline to get that eye to eye attention. He allowed himself a small smile as well before his face grew neutral again; she was the most demanding submissive he had trained in his entire life, but they both delighted in the dance, the exhilarating exchange of power.

He took a seat on the couch so that they were at eye level, and then raised her chin until their faces were inches away from each other.

"As promised, I have a surprise for you. As always you will have to decide if you accept the gift."

She smiled her small, little girl smile, and it was hard for him to not pick her up in that instant and take her - she was so feminine and open he wanted to consume her. He smiled quietly, and then continued.

"I offer you to wear my collar for the rest of our adventure today. You will return it when we are complete, and you are then once again free to do as you please. Until we are done, you will be allowed to refer to me as Master in private, and you will obey me without question. For my part, I will take excellent care of you, and see to it that you are sexually spent. Think before you answer."

He sat there, unhurried, and waited for her.

Her mind and heart were racing! She wanted that collar, she craved a man like him to actually control and channel her considerable sexual energy in a positive, focused direction. Gwen had always steered clear of a collar because she knew how she was not easily, if at all, controlled. This had the appeal of the experience, without a commitment that she was currently unable to keep.

She had her misgivings about herself, but when she looked into his eyes, she could not deny the opportunity to wear his collar. The thought of him placing it on her, claiming her, marking her - it was what she wanted. She mused to herself, perhaps this is what she always had wanted.

She bowed her head, and said, "Please Sir, allow me to wear the collar of my Master."

He reached into his pocket, and drew out a small velvet bag. Withdrawing a fine silver chain, there was a heart shaped locket; for all that it signified, it was beautiful in it's design, but understated and subtle. She had expected something bold, distinctive, perhaps even garish - but then it was so like him; unexpected, reserved, purposeful.

Holding it before her, he let it twist slowly in the light, first one direction and then another. She smiled and chuckled as it occurred to her that this tableau was eerily similar to those scenes of a hypnotist. He chuckled with her, but the locket continued to slowly twirl. It was quiet for a time, and then he asked, "Tell me why you laughed Dear."

She suddenly wondered if she should have remained silent, but she knew he would accept nothing less than honesty, so she cleared her throat and answered. "Sir, the locket spinning reminded me of a hypnotist with a pocket watch." He didn't respond, so she hesitantly continued "Sir, it seemed silly for a moment, but I didn't mean to be disrespectful. I am sorry if I have offended you."

As sure as she was in so much of her life, she was suddenly unsure of herself. Anxiety suddenly began to build in her, and she looked up into his face, searching for assurance, disapproval, response, any response. She took a sharp breath, wanting to fix this, get past this. She searched his face, holding her breath trying to figure out what she could say to reach him.

Without warning, the tips of his fingers rested on her lips, the deep rumbling "Shhhhhhhh" washed over into her soul, and the anxiety went out of her. Her breath poured out slowly over his fingers.

"You are correct Dear, and I laughed with you. Now breath deeply, and look closely at the locket. You need to relax."

It seemed silly at first, but she watched the locket turn slowly, and steadied her breathing. It might seem foolish to an outsider, but she found such peace and pleasure in pleasing him, so she did as he ordered, and concentrated on the locket like it was a puzzle and went to that place he had taught her, resting in the moment and obeying.

A period of time passed, and she found that she could make out engraving on the back of the locket. She grew curious what it was, but as she concentrated more, she grew tired, and it was harder to keep her eyes open. It was cursive, she could make that out, but she was blinking now, struggling to keep her eyes open.

She felt his breath on her ear, and heard him whisper, "Close your eyes and rest them, your eyes are so tired." She agreed she was incredibly tired once all of the pent excitement of the last few days waiting for him had worn off. She closed her eyes, and it felt so good to rest them and trust him. With a small tired smile, she hated to admit that he was almost always right. So tired, it was good to rest.

She felt his kiss on her forehead, and she felt so much better, rested, at peace. She wondered for a moment how long it had been, but then he spoke.

"Open your eyes Dear, how do you feel?"

His face was close, and he knew how he loved to look into her eyes. She was never sure exactly what he saw, but looking back into was always peaceful as long as she wasn't impatient.

"Have you ever wondered why women are so susceptible to hypnosis?"

That seemed like an odd question, but she answered from what she had heard, "I think that some people are just more suggestible, and those are the ones who can be hypnotized."

"That may be correct, but it is my observation that most women desire a powerful man to pass control to him, they just need to find an acceptable man, and the acceptable circumstance in which that can be accomplished."

Gwen pondered that for a moment, but his speaking captured her attention. "I am concerned that your knees may be wearing there on the carpet, so let us dispense with these formalities. Please look at the locket again. When he showed it to her this time, it was still, and the face was inscribed with a Large script S. She suspected she knew what the S stood for, but she wanted to know what it stood before she put it on. "What does the S stand for?"

He smiled at her question, and then he answered, "In general, I suppose it depends on who you ask. To certain of the old-school, it stands for Sex Slave. Now, some would say Slave, although that is coarse to my taste. Sex, while closer to accurate, still misses the mark. For me, Submissive is the most appropriate."

He ran a finger across her forehead, and then down her nose. She smiled at his touch. "Although, you are, by my measure, equally to be described as Stubborn, Sweet, or Sublime." Her faced twisted a bit at that soft rebuke, but she couldn't argue the truth of it, so she accepted the complements of "Sweet and Sublime" and was at peace.

He turned the locket so that she could see the reverse. It had a large script M.

"Do you have questions about this?"

She smiled at him, "No Master, that is your mark, which I will wear with pride."

"Then Dear, do you have any other questions before I so mark you?"

Gwen thought for a moment, but the questions she had even he couldn't answer, so she nodded her head slowly.

"Thank you Dear, but I really need you to answer in a spoken fashion."

She smirked a but, but she make eye contact, and spoke clearly, "No Sir, I have no questions."

"Thank you. Having had time to consider this, are you ready?"

She bit back the sarcastic answer on her lips and answered, and replied, "Yes Sir". They had discussed this several times over the time she knew him, and for him to ask again was irritating, but she knew he had his processes, and sometimes she just had to be patient and follow his lead.

He reached around her neck and placed the locket on her. It was warm and comfortable on her. There was a part of her who had wanted this for a long time, dreamed of how it might feel, and it was now coming true. It felt different than she had expected; it was both a constraint and freeing. It was physical reminder that she had to control herself - think before she spoke or act, be much more thoughtful and obedient.

She continued to look into his eyes, and she actually felt lighter, freed. Gwen wanted to touch her Master, she could not express how putting the locket on made her crave him more, but it did. Normally, her life was complex; business executive, family, friendships, clients. This brought a beautiful simplicity; she was his, and he would do with her as he pleased.

To be clear, she had taken his measure, and knew his character. That is why giving herself over to him was so appealing, she never knew what would happen, but he never ceased to surprise and delight her. Gwen licked her lips, she loved how he tasted, and she just had to be patient.

His eyes were alive, and that small smirk played across his lips, she knew he was close to acting now, his mind already running ahead of his body. He held out his hands palms up between them and instructed "Your hands Dear".

There was a part of her that almost shot her hands out, then she controlled herself and gracefully raised her hands to rest them in his hands. "Yes Master" softly rolled across her lips, and she thrilled to address him so. She was pleased with the poise and style with which she had obeyed, and she willed her breathing to settle as she watched him carefully cross her wrists.

When he reached to his side she saw a fresh length of nylon line next to him, and there was a part of her mind that wondered where that had come from, but she dismissed the question as he began to handle it and form a knot. She felt herself grow wet again as she watched the line twisting in his hand, she loved how the line felt on her skin.

Her whole body felt alive, and she discovered that somewhere along the way her dress and lingerie had come off and were draped across the other end of the couch. Her skin tingled with anticipation, and she realized that kneeling naked before him not only felt right, but her wrists and hands felt wonderful as he touched them.

She was staring so intently he had to raise her chin again to look into his eyes. "You seem a bit transfixed Dear, are you with me?" There was hint of a smile on those pouty lips, and she had to think for a moment about how to respond. There was a part of her that was impatient, a part of her that wanted to break protocol and touch him. There was a part of her that wondered if he was provoking her to action so that he would have cause to spank her - that would be fine as well, but he had best get on with it!

"So we are going to play the guessing game - how long will it take for me to bind your wrists?" He smiled, and she joined him; his games were always fun, even funny and whimsical at times. She thought for a moment, then decided to go conservative, "Two minutes Master?"

His face wrinkled, and she knew she was off, so she corrected herself, "I'm sorry Master, I mis-spoke, I meant twenty -err, thirty, umm forttty, ummm forty five seconds!" She declared confidently.

She had continued to respond to his facial features, changing the answer until he had smiled at her. The only question was whether he had purposely misguided her. She knew it would be fun, no matter the outcome.

"Alright, the magic time is 45 seconds, let's see how well you do - when I say begin, count slowly until I finish" She took a breath of anticipation, she loved the feel of the fresh nylon, and this would be exciting. "Begin! He slipped the first knot over a wrist, and then began rapidly binding her wrists. Watching his hands, it was intriguing how he worked.

She had counted to 32 when she thought he was done, as his hands had suddenly stopped. Then he began to tug at certain components of the knots, then when back to finishing the ends of the lines as she hit 40, then he slowed again until she counted 45 at which point he threw his hands up like a cowboy finishing his roping.