Coming Home Coming Out Ch 07

Reading Notes:

1. This is the seventh chapter written in collaboration with Sissy Simon(e), who was owned by my late friend, Nicola. It is published in her memory,

2. Dr. Sara's reminiscences continue in this chapter.

3. As in previous chapters, all participants are 18 years of age or older, and all events described are consensual.

Sara came out of the toilet stall and washed her hands. Her daughter Mary was waiting for her outside the Ladies toilet.

"Bloody hell, mam," she said with a wicked grin on her face, "I hope you managed to get everything done in there. Paul's not going to be happy if you disappear for hours on your wedding night!"

Sara linked arms with her daughter and winked at her.

"Don't you worry, cariad," she whispered conspiratorially, "Paul will get everything he desires tonight!"

"Mam!" Mary blushed and looked horrified. "I'm glad you and Paul have got married," she said, "but please, keep the sanctity of your first night as husband and wife to yourself. There are certain things a daughter should not know!"

"Too fucking right, cariad!" thought Sara, and out loud she said "Sorry, cariad, I didn't mean to embarrass you. I promise not to reveal what Paul and I get up to in the bedroom!"

"Thank goodness for that!" replied Mary, primly, causing her mother to wonder if her only daughter really was as naive as all that. Sara also wondered whether or not Mary needed help to find a boyfriend. After all, she wasn't getting any younger, and Sara wanted only the best for her beloved daughter. Arm in arm they re-joined the guests for the wedding meal and speeches.

All too soon, it was over. Sara and Paul stood by the door, thanking everybody who had helped them celebrate their wedding. All the guests knew that the newlyweds were going back to the doctor's house, from where they would go on their honeymoon first thing next morning. The final guests departed, and Paul looked at Sara.

"Shall we?" he asked, hesitatingly.

"Of course," replied Sara. "The reason I was absent for so long earlier was that I was lost in thought about my first ever full time sub. Have I ever told you about Keith?"

"You've mentioned his name," Paul replied, "but I don't know specific details other than that he moved down here from north Wales to be nearer to you. I wouldn't mind knowing some more about him, if only to learn what it is I've let myself in for!"

Sara looked at her husband. "Well," she said, "we have to go back to the house. My car's outside, as you know. I left it here last night specifically for the purpose of using it to take us home. Let's go, and on the way, I can enlighten you about what it means to be owned by Dr Sara Walters, and how to please and serve her!"

Paul shivered with delight, and held the door open for his new bride, as she walked out; leading him into what he hoped was going to be a lifetime of pain, humiliation and servitude.

Sara unlocked her car and they both got in. As they were fastening their seatbelts, Sara turned to Paul and said,

"Count yourself lucky. The first time I brought Keith to my house, he travelled in the boot of my car!"

She grinned at the look on Paul's face.

"We'd met for the first time earlier that day, in Aberystwyth," she explained.

"I was impressed enough to allow him to take me for lunch at a little hotel run by a dominatrix and her daughter. Her subby hubby was a sissy maid, and he served us our meal. He also served me with his tongue during lunch!"

She started the car, and pulled away, continuing with her story as she drove.

"As I said, Keith impressed me enough to consider giving him a trial period as my sub. He followed me down to Cwm Pechod in his car, parked in the village car park, and I brought him home. Most people were down at the rugby club, as it was a Saturday afternoon and our team were playing at home. But just to be on the safe side, and also to show him exactly who was in charge, I made him get into the boot, so that I could arrive home seemingly alone. It won't be necessary for you to travel home with me in the same way. People know we're married now, so it would look a bit strange if I arrived back at my house without my new husband!"

"Mind you," she continued with a giggle, "when I do get you home, you'll be put through your paces, just as Keith was. You're my property now and I intend to mould you into what I consider to be the ideal domestic submissive!"

Paul grinned with delight, and settled back in his seat. His only reservation was that he would have loved to have been told to get into the boot of his new owner's car, and to be driven home to begin a life of submission and servitude.

Sara continued her story, the reminiscences bringing back many happy memories, and re-igniting the warm glow between her thighs that the similar journey had provoked all those years ago.

She had driven her car into the integral garage of her home, opposite the surgery where she was a partner in the village medical practice. Closing the roller door behind her, she opened the boot, and instructed Keith to get out.

The journey from the car park hadn't been too long, so he wasn't too incapacitated to obey instantly. He stood submissively before Sara, head bowed, eyes lowered, and awaited further instructions.

They were delivered in a quiet voice, but a voice that, Keith already knew, expected to be obeyed without question.

"Get your clothes off, and fold them neatly," he was told.

Sara moved away and disappeared into the house, through the connecting door. When she returned, she was carrying a heavy leather collar. She regarded the naked Keith approvingly.

"On your knees," she commanded, and proceeded to put the collar around his neck. It fastened with a solid buckle at the back of his neck, and he noticed that there was a stainless steel ring at the front, just where his Adam's apple was.

Sara took a leather dog lead from the workbench which ran down one side of the garage, and clipped it onto Keith's collar.

"Follow me," she instructed, re-tracing her steps into the house, tugging on the lead, and forcing Keith to crawl at her heel.

Sara took Keith into the sitting room. She placed him directly in front of a comfy looking armchair, removed his lead and sat down facing her new submissive.

"This is how this works," she began, in her quiet, determined voice.

"I intend keeping you here for the rest of the weekend. You will be given various tasks to perform, and if they are completed satisfactorily, I will take you on permanently. Should that happen, I am confident that you will be able to secure a job in that solicitor's office you told me about earlier. I expect you to buy a house in this village, which is not less than five minutes away from here, because, as my submissive, when I want you, I'll summon you, and I don't expect to be kept waiting. Is everything that I've said so far clear?"

"Yes, Ma'am," replied Keith, eagerly. Then he added,

"May I ask a question, please?"

"You may," came the curt reply.

"Is 'Ma'am' an acceptable form of address, or am I required to call you something else?"

Sara considered his question, and made up her mind quickly.

"Ma'am is appropriate," she told him, "and if in the future you are taken on, I will arrange for us to 'meet' at some point (Sara used her fingers to sketch quotation marks in the air) so that you and I can begin a relationship which will satisfy the village gossips, and will enable us to be seen together. If and when that happens, you will address me as Dr. Sara in public. 'Ma'am' just might give the game away!"

"Understood, Ma'am," replied Keith happily.

"Now then," continued Sara, settling back into her armchair, "it is time for your first test. You were brought into this room via the kitchen. I want you to return there, and make us both a pot of tea. You'll find everything you need in the tall larder cupboard. The teapot is next to the kettle on the worktop, milk in the fridge. There are cups and saucers in the cupboard above the worktop, and you'll find a bowl in the cupboard underneath the sink unit. You have your instructions. Go!"

Sara gave Keith a mental tick, because when he was dismissed to carry out his task, he crawled out of the sitting room. She assured herself silently that maybe, with this one, she'd found a keeper. She certainly intended to test him severely over the coming weekend. She smiled to herself, and awaited her cup of tea.

Once in the kitchen, Keith got to his feet and, satisfying himself that his nakedness could not be seen from outside, he bustled around, acquainting himself with the layout of the room, putting the kettle on to boil, finding tea bags and the sugar bowl ("Damn," he thought to himself, "I forgot to ask Ma'am if she takes sugar in her tea!) and the milk jug, which he filled from a bottle in the fridge.

The kettle had boiled and he poured some into the waiting tea pot, to warm the pot, as his mother had always done. When he was satisfied that the teapot was sufficiently warm, he poured the water carefully down the sink, avoiding splashes. Then he added three teabags, one per person, and one for the pot, he recited quietly to himself, just as his mother had taught him all those years ago. He poured more boiling water into the teapot, replaced the lid, and looked for, and failed to find, a tea cosy to put over the teapot to keep it warm.

Whilst the tea was brewing, he set out a tray, on which he put a cup and saucer, the milk jug and the sugar bowl. Opening the cutlery drawer, he put one spoon on Dr Sara's saucer, and another in the sugar bowl. He placed a folded tea towel on the tray, and put the teapot on top of that.

Next, he opened the cupboard under the sink unit, and found, as he'd been told he would, a stainless steel dog bowl. He checked that it was clean, and gave it a quick swill anyway. By the time he'd dried the bowl, he considered the tea to be ready. Now all he had to do was crawl back into the sitting room, carrying a tray and a dog's bowl without spilling anything!

He succeeded in his task by the simple method of balancing the tray on the bowl, and picking the whole lot up together. Carefully, he walked to the entrance of the sitting room, sank to his knees slowly, and crawled into his prospective owner's presence.

Carefully setting his load down on the floor at Dr Sara's side, he left the bowl in position on the floor, before lifting the tray onto the small occasional table that sat by the side of her armchair.

"Ah! Tea. How nice," remarked Dr Sara, "you may pour. Milk, no sugar for me. You may take yours as you like."

Keith served Dr Sara before unfolding the tea towel and placing it on the floor in front of her. He put his bowl onto the tea towel, and poured some tea from the pot into it. He added a splash of milk and sat back on his heels, awaiting permission to drink.

Sara looked at him, sipped her tea, and murmured appreciatively.

"Well," she began, "you certainly know how to make a cuppa, even if you don't have the gumption to ascertain whether or not I use milk and sugar when I take tea. You'll pay for that later on!" She winked at him.

"My apologies, Ma'am," replied Keith, cursing himself inwardly for such a shoddy beginning.

"Accepted," replied, Sara, "but only because you took the trouble to ensure that you don't make splash and drip marks on my carpet by putting a tea towel down. You may drink your tea, by the way.

Sara sipped her tea, and listened to the sound of her new submissive as he lapped up his own drink.

"Yes," she thought to herself, "I think you've struck gold this time, Sara. Now hurry up and finish your tea. You've a punishment session to conduct, and judging by how damp your nether regions are feeling right now, you'll need pleasuring when that's over!"

Sara finished her cup of tea, and looked at Keith. His face was red from the effort of lapping up his tea from a dog bowl, and he had a drip on the end of his nose, another one on his chin, and there were lines on his chest where the tea had run down when he sat up to indicate that he had finished.

Sara giggled.

"I don't suppose lapping tea up out of a dog bowl is easy," she said. "Use that tea towel to wipe yourself down. Then take all of this stuff back to the kitchen, and put things away. The dishwasher is in the laundry room, next to the washing machine. Then get back in here. Your next test is imminent!"

Keith scurried away, as fast as he could, carrying the tray and his bowl. He found crawling easier now that the milk jug was less full, and the teapot lighter. He was back in the sitting room promptly, and Sara re-attached her lead to his collar.

"Follow me," she instructed, stalking out of the room, with Keith shuffling on his knees at her heels.

Sara opened the door under the stairs and switched on the light.

"You'll need to stand up to walk down here," she advised Keith. "These steps are both steep and narrow. I don't want you falling and hurting yourself. It's my job to hurt you!"

She smiled as Keith got to his feet. The fact that his cock was stirring didn't escape her notice.

Once underground in her playroom, Sara shut the door at the bottom of the narrow staircase. She flicked another switch, and a red light came on above the door.

"Don't worry," she smiled again, "that light will flash if someone rings the doorbell. They won't be able to hear anything from outside. This room is more or less completely soundproof."

She removed Keith's lead and buckled two leather shackles on to his wrists. Next she secured those together in front of him with another shackle. Then she picked up what looked like a tv remote control, pointed it at the ceiling and pressed a button. A block and tackle moved silently along a track, and stopped directly above Keith. When Sara pressed another button, the hook connected to the block began to descend on a very strong looking chain.

"This has a safe working load of two tons," she informed Keith, as she halted the hook's descent and took hold of his bound wrists.

"I find it very useful when I need to discipline a sub, or even when I have to put one through a training test to see if he's suitable to serve me!"

Satisfied that she'd attached his bound wrists securely to the hook, Sara pressed another button, and the chain began to retract, causing Keith's arms to be raised. Sara measured the distance carefully, and when Keith was on tip-toe, she stopped the machine, and looked at her helpless victim.

"Just one or two final adjustments," she informed him, reaching for a leg spreader bar, which she quickly and efficiently attached to his ankles, before widening the bar, which made it impossible for Keith to reach the floor. Sara adjusted the pulley once more, and Keith stood easily, but helplessly on the floor. He looked at Sara with devotion and respect, saying nothing, but communicating everything with his facial expression.

"We're almost ready for your test to begin," Sara informed him, "but before we do, this will be your chance to avoid what will be excruciatingly painful for you. Safe words are not something I use once consent has been given. So, tell me, is there anything that is on your hard list that I should be aware of?"

Keith remained silent for a few seconds, thinking of what he was about to consent to.

"No, Ma'am," he replied in a low, but perfectly steady voice. "All I would ask is that you don't mark my face or my hands."

"Oh, of course," smiled Sara. "Don't fret. I haven't forgotten your interview on Monday! It really would be awkward if you turned up looking as if you'd gone ten rounds with the local heavyweight champion! Don't give it another thought. All the bruises I am about to give you will be well hidden under your clothes. But even by Monday morning, they will still be very painful!"

She grinned wickedly.

"So, just to be perfectly clear, you consent to my giving you this test, which will only conclude when I am either convinced of your suitability to serve me, or when I decide that you are not worthy? Which ever comes first."

"I do consent," replied Keith decisively.

He began to breathe slowly and deeply, waiting for his test to begin.

Sara looked at her equipment, set out neatly on her work bench. First she selected a pair of screw-down nipple clamps. She approached the helpless Keith and regarded his nipples thoughtfully. Having made up her mind, she pinched one between her thumb and forefinger and sharply twisted it. Keith gave a hiss of pain.

Sara pulled the tender nipple out, and deftly attached a clamp to it. Releasing her grip she proceeded to screw it down tight, squashing the trapped nipple until it was almost flat. Keith's eyes started to water as the pain began to register, but Sara ignored this, and duplicated her actions on his other nipple. She stood back to admire her handiwork.

"Oh that does look better," she said softly, and noticing that Keith's cock was reacting to the stimulus of pain, she continued,

"And this little fellow seems to be enjoying it so far as well."

She took hold of his cock and peeled the foreskin back. Smiling, she dug her thumbnail into the shiny purple helmet, and after a gasp of pain from Keith, his cock thickened and swelled. Sara grinned.

"Oh I'm going to enjoy this," she confided in Keith, letting go of his cock, and picking up a riding crop.

"This will warm you up, I think," she continued conversationally.

"I believe it gives a nice stinging sensation, before I introduce you to my range of canes. If you're a good boy, I'll give your cock some attention with this lovely leather flap here."

She brought the leather end down sharply on the head of his cock. It produced a loud slap sound, and his cock twitched up and down, and swelled further, pulling the foreskin back and revealing the purple helmet once more. Sara licked her lips laviciously, and turned her attention to cropping her sub's exposed arse.

Her crop whistled through the air and landed with a loud crack, causing Keith to thrust his hips forward. He straightened up again, just in time to receive a second stroke. He managed to stay still as this landed. Sara took aim again, and landed three strokes in rapid sensation, which produced a bright red area across the centre of both buttocks.

She rubbed her hand over the area she had just cropped, dragging her nails across the soft flesh.

"You're warming up nicely," she informed him. "I think another dozen or so should see you warm enough to take my cane. Do you want the next dozen spaced out, or are you going to be brave enough to accept them all without any delay between them?"

"Whatever you decide, Ma'am," he replied. "I am yours to use and abuse as you see fit!"

"Good answer!" said Sara with a smile. "Let's get this initial warm-up over with, shall we? Here they come, a dozen strokes, no delay in between them!"

The twelve strokes rained down on his increasingly reddening arse rapidly. He gasped towards the end, and was breathing heavily as the last stroke landed.

Sara put the crop down and picked up a thin, whippy cane, which she swished through the air, an action which produced a whistling sound.

"A different sensation, now, " she informed Keith. "This one stings, but only for a while."

She positioned the cane across the centre of his buttocks, tapped them firmly once or twice and then delivered a stroke which brought a sob from Keith's lips. It was music to her ears.

She repeated the stroke, laying it perfectly across the site of the previous blow. This time Keith moaned. A third stroke brought an agonised howl from his lips, but this only seemed to encourage Sara. She gave him two dozen hard strokes before laying down her cane, rubbing his arse, and commenting on how nicely warm he was becoming.

It wasn't only his arse that was warm. Beads of sweat stood out on his forehead, and ran from his armpits down his sides. Sara stepped back to the front and addressed him.