I obey without question, sneaking my hands over my nipples and cunt as I head for the kitchen. I don't think I've ever been this aroused before. Even the wild sex of our honeymoon doesn't compare with the feelings coursing through my body today. I feel like a slave under the command of my mistress. If only that could be a reality.
I return with the drinks to discover that Rosalyn has found the tie that Tom discarded this morning after he spilt milk on it at breakfast. I serve our coffee and at Rosalyn's command, I cross my wrists in front of me and she binds them together with Tom's tie.
"That's a good start, my pretty slave. Now we shall discuss a more suitable arrangement between us. I presume you consent to be my slave, just like O was in the movie we've just watched."
"Yes, Mistress," I reply, practically having an orgasm at the thought of my compete surrender to my neighbour.
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PART ONE
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Chapter 1
To understand why I am so readily placing myself in my neighbour's thrall, I should firstly explain how I arrived at this point in my life.
Even to this day, the 'alternative lifestyle' commune into which I was born, and where I spent my early childhood, is repeatedly portrayed as home to a bunch of religious fanatics responsible for all sorts of wicked transgressions. I can't speak for those currently living there, but my own recollections of life in the commune are entirely different from the nonsense spouted by the hysterical bigots who have made it their mission in life to have the commune closed down. Repeated claims that children living at the commune are systematically abused and sexually assaulted have never been substantiated. My own experience suggests that the accusations of impropriety are baseless. It must have come as a great disappointment to the bigots when the eight teenage girls removed from the commune ten years ago all turned out to be perfectly healthy virgins.
My early life in the commune is a collection of hazy but pleasant memories. I haven't seen or heard from my parents since I was thirteen years old. After the state authorities removed me and seventeen other children from our parents' care, we were prohibited from contacting them, or anyone else connected with the commune. Even when I turned eighteen, and I was released from the controlling influence of the state, I was sent on my way with a stern warning to keep the commune and my parents at a distance. Rightly or wrongly, I have obeyed the advice of my state appointed guardians, since that is what my strict upbringing has taught me to do. Nevertheless, to me, the commune was a happy place that isolated itself from the corruption and violence of the outside world.
That's not to say that my life in the commune was easy. Far from it. Discipline and hard work was the commune's mantra. The commune's leaders created and imposed strict rules on those living in their community. But to call any of them religious fanatics is wrong. Religion played no greater part in the commune's lifestyle than it does anywhere else in the modern day western world.
As I said, my life in the commune came to an abrupt end ten years ago, when the police invaded the commune and took twelve girls and six boys from our parents. We were all made wards of the state. Nobody cared about the trauma that such a move created for us or our parents. Although some of us were put in foster homes, I and five other girls were packed off to a privately run orphanage called Sunnybridge. The regime there was also one of discipline and hard work, although I felt considerably less safe at Sunnybridge than I did in the commune. The six of us were constantly being examined by medics and psychiatrists who never revealed why we were such fascinating subjects. One by one the other girls from the commune reached eighteen and were released from the orphanage. Eventually, I was the only one from our group left at Sunnybridge.
Had Tom not lived at Sunnybridge, I'm unsure whether I could have survived the harsh regime until I reached eighteen. He was the son of one of the administrators, who lived in Sunnybridge's staff quarters. Tom had considerably more freedom of movement than any of Sunnybridge's inmates. He shamelessly used his privileges to his benefit. He flirted with all of the Sunnybridge girls in his age group. The extra treats he could supply made him a popular visitor to the older girls' common room. He rarely favoured one girl over another and he constantly referred to us his harem.
When I left Sunnybridge I found a clerical job in the city and I rented a small one-room bedsit nearby. The landlady was a Tartar and imposed fines and other penalties on her tenants for breaking her strict rules. Fortunately for me I was used to living in such a demanding regime. My entire life up to that point had consisted of being told what to do, and being punished if I didn't obey.
Both Tom and I had jobs in the central city, which meant we were not far away from each other during the day. We would meet for lunch at least three times a week but we rarely dated in the evenings or at weekends. Tom and I were great friends, but we were not lovers. Tom's reputation for wanting to fuck every young woman in town, wasn't a trait that made him good boyfriend material.
Our casual relationship continued with very little variation for over three years. Then, for some unknown reason, Tom started to show a romantic interest in me. I had few friends other than Tom, so his attentions were welcome. Neither of us lived in a place where we could invite members of the opposite sex to stay. Our options for sex were limited, and usually little more than a quick furtive fumble in some back alley. I was taken by surprise when Tom suggested that we get married.
I wasn't sure if what I felt for Tom was love or something akin to gratitude. However, Tom refused to take 'no' for an answer to his marriage proposal. Finally, it was the prospect of sharing a flat with Tom, rather than continuing to live in the wretched one-room bedsit where I lived, which eventually made me agree to marry him. We were married a few weeks later at a small private ceremony with only two witnesses. The experience only underlined how alone in the world I had become since I left Sunnybridge, and why I felt I needed to marry Tom.
Tom and I found a small apartment on the fringes of the city centre, and for six months we lived a settled, albeit boring, life. Then Tom heard of a suitable house becoming available to rent not far from Sunnybridge. I was swept along with his enthusiasm, and that's how we ended up here. I suspect Tom had met Rosalyn before we moved here, since it was she who had told Tom about our house becoming available. For as long as I have known him, Tom has had many female friends, so it doesn't surprise me that Rosalyn is one of them.
My own submissive nature is probably a product of the successive regimes under which I have lived. Discipline and hard work have been a part of my life as far back as I can remember. I have always expected physical punishment as the price of any misdemeanour. The psychiatrists at Sunnybridge seemed perplexed by my passiveness, and my ready acceptance at receiving a spanking for my errant ways. I presume they saw nothing wrong in what was occurring since they did nothing to prevent the guardians at Sunnybridge from liberally using a slipper or cane to rectify any misbehaviour among their charges.
Tom has never been keen on following the Sunnybridge guardians' regime of reward and punishment. He's aware of my submissive nature, but my desire to submit to his domination has rarely been satisfied beyond a few short-lived games. Instead he uses a trick that the psychiatrists at Sunnybridge often used. If they wanted to restore calm and order for any reason, they would hold up a yellow stick. The stick they used had a small light at the end, and pointing it in the miscreant's direction was a signal to the offender to stop whatever they were saying or doing. For such a simple tool, it was surprisingly effective.
Chapter 2
Telling Tom about my activities today is going to be difficult. My job interview was a disaster. I was one of twenty applicants and my qualifications were not what was required for the job. The manager said he would keep my details on file and he would contact me if a suitable job came available. It was a polite way of saying 'don't contact us, we'll contact you'. However, my failed job interview isn't what is worrying me. It's my tacit agreement with our neighbour, Rosalyn, that is making me really nervous.
"Have you been spending your day watching old movies?" asks Tom when he picks up the DVD of The Story of O that Rosalyn and I had been watching this morning.
I had deliberately left the DVD on the table as a prop to introduce the subject I'm dreading talking about. Thankfully, Tom took the bait and he's given me the opportunity to confess my hasty agreement with Rosalyn. This morning, in my heightened state of arousal, I had readily agreed to Rosalyn's proposal. By afternoon I was already thinking that I've gone too far. Tom is my husband, and he has every right to be consulted before I agreed to submit to Rosalyn's requirements. But I'm more afraid of displeasing Rosalyn than I am of angering Tom, so I must press ahead with my confession.
"Rosalyn came round this morning and she wanted to watch the film," I say. "She's apparently a fan of the genre, and you know how much I like the film."
"Hmm. I'll never understand your fascination for watching a woman being treated like what's-her-name in that film," mutters Tom, inadvertently highlighting my main frustration with our sexual relationship.
"O. The main character is called O," I reply, slightly exasperated at Tom's failure to understand the depths of my fetish for sexual submission and my interest in wanting to try anal sex.
