May 28th
Tina came rushing into my office, too eager with suppressed information to heed my warnings about the room being "off-limits." The babysitter, who had just walked with her all the way from preschool, was hot on her trail in an attempt to corral the little filly, but she was running a distant second. "It's her birthday!" my daughter squealed. "It's Dawn's birthday!" And so (I learned, after a bit of pointed interrogation) it was. Number twenty-three.
The three of us wandered into the village together after I finished for the day, and Dawn took her leave from us so I could help Tina pick out the perfect gift. We met up with her again half an hour later outside the grocery store, where I had just purchased a carton of ice cream and one of those mini-cakes with a generic "Happy Birthday" inscribed on top. "It's perfume!" Tina announced loudly, waving a plastic sack. "But you can't see it until after it's wrapped because it's a surprise!" Dawn swore that she would certainly be surprised. She, for her part, had purchased another blouse and slacks ensemble, plus something in a bag from the nautical store.
We stopped for a carry-out pizza on the way home and rented a short cartoon movie. Tina wrapped the perfume herself (it wound up being more tape than gift paper), and Dawn ... following a minute-long ordeal unwrapping it ... played the part of surprised recipient very well. My gift to her was a small, ornately carved wooden box ... for her necklace, I told her.
It took awhile to get Tina down that night (undoubtedly due to the sugar high from the cake and ice cream), but Dawn and I were finally alone. I had packed my suitcase while Dawn had read the nightly book to my daughter and put her to bed. I was due in Amsterdam for a Saturday meeting, but the airline had cancelled the Thursday evening flight, and my office had rescheduled me for one earlier in the day. I'd have to leave the house in the morning. She came to me, hugged me, demurely accepted my tender kiss, and told me that her day had been perfect. I asked her if she was going to use the box for the necklace.
"The necklace belongs to you now, sir. Everything that was mine is now yours. I have freely given you all that I own ... all that I have ... all that I am."
I put my arms around her. I was getting used to the weirdness, but she still surprised me. "Don't be absurd," I told her gently. "I am a great proponent of women's issues. Even if you DO take this subservient attitude with me, I refuse to accept it ... especially when it comes to your possessions."
She seemed to work her body further into mine, her arms around my waist. She shrugged and sighed. "I regret to inform you, sir, that your attitude is superfluous. It simply doesn't matter to me. I belong to you now. I will continue to belong to you until you tire of me and send me away."
"Dawn ..."
"And so, now the box is yours, too. But ... if you really want to give me a gift, could I request one? It's all I really want. Please, sir?"
I drew away from her enough to see her face, and I gazed at her with my sternest countenance. "This conversation is NOT over. We will discuss this when I get back from my trip. I am NOT going to have you dictate some sort of hierarchical order in MY household and ..."
She smiled up at me, then she lowered her face to my chest and hugged me fiercely. "Of course, sir. I'll do anything you ask. Anything at all."
I sighed. I was holding an enigma in my arms. "Very well, then," I said levelly. "I will grant you one birthday wish. Anything you want. What is it?"
"I want you to let me call you Master," she told me simply.
The request staggered me. I sat down hard on the edge of the bed, thinking. She let go of me when I did that, of course; then she started to sit next to me in order to recapture our broken physical intimacy; but she finally just stood there before me, her gaze submissively downward, her arms at her sides, waiting. How had all this happened so quickly? Two weeks before, I was an emotional cripple over the loss of a wife through divorce; and today I was ... what ...? A master to a sex slave? At what point should I call it quits with all of this? When should I simply end this little game? But ... I hadn't solved the puzzle yet. How had such a concept as emotional slavery become so ingrained in Dawn's psyche? I had to figure this out. Perhaps just a little while longer.
"Very well," I told her; and she looked up at me sharply, a huge smile on her face. "But with one restriction." Her bright countenance didn't fade, but she cocked her head in question. "You may only call me that while you are naked," I continued. "Is that agreed?"
In fifteen seconds flat, every shred of clothing she wore lay in a heap on the floor, and she was on her knees at my feet. She threw her arms around my legs and put her head on my lap. "Yes, Master. Thank you SO much, Master." I reached down and stroked her hair, contemplating this, when she said softly: "I got what you wanted in town today, Master. Do you want it now? Do you want me now?"
She couldn't see my expression. "What did you get?"
"You know," she answered softly. "You put the suggestion in my head. I've been thinking about it all day."
I let out a long, silent breath. "Sure. Go get it."
Dawn sprang up and raced from the room, her breasts bouncing wildly, and she returned almost immediately with the plastic sack I had seen earlier from the nautical store in the village. I took it and pulled out the contents. Rope. Soft, nylon rope, about three-quarters of an inch thick. I soon discovered that it had been cut into four lengths of about three feet each, and the ends had been expertly melted so as not to unravel. She stood before me now, shivering slightly in anticipation, her hands held out in my direction, her wrists together.
I had never been a very good Boy Scout. After studying the various parts to this very simple quandary, I dropped three of the sections of rope on the bed and began tying her up with the remaining one. Then I untied it and tried crossing her wrists first. I wrapped a couple times in one direction then the other; and I tied the whole thing off with a couple half hitches. That should hold her. But ... hold her to what? After all of that, I only had about nine inches of rope left to work with. I caught her grinning at me, and when I gave her a scowl, she broke out in laughter. Ah ... wait a minute ... I had an idea. I tied another length to the end of the rope I'd just finished with, then ordered her to lie down on her back on the bed, which she scampered to do after regaling me with another "Yes, Master!"
There was no place to tie a rope on that headboard, so I endeavored to slip my hand down between the mattress and wood to attempt to tie it directly to the lower frame. I couldn't seem to make it work in the given space, but I finally figured that I could loop it around the frame; then I untied the other end again and looped it through her bound wrists. That did it. No way was she getting out of that! She struggled a bit, testing it; and she beamed up at me in approval. The feet were pretty simple, and soon, her legs were bound widely spread-eagle while her wrists were together and restrained above her head.
Triumphantly, I shed my clothes and went to work. I lay heavily atop her, kissing her for a long, long time, until her breathing became raspy and her hips began undulating against me. Then I moved to her breasts. By now, I knew just what she really liked ... and just what she really loved. I was still in the teasing phase, however, and when she was just getting to the point of begging, I licked my way down to her smooth nether region. Again I teased mercilessly while her hips strained up at me, then I reversed my efforts: back to her breasts again, then back to her lips. But this time, when I began kissing her, I reached down and worked my cock into her slippery passage. Now she was really getting into it, but I stopped (much to her disappointment) after only a dozen thrusts into her wet, slippery passage. And down I went again. I licked her for a couple minutes, then thrust into her while kissing her for awhile, then back down, then back up, over and over, stopping for little sessions on her nipples every time I encountered them. To my delight, I was able to keep the torture up for almost a full half hour.
Both of her orgasms were while I was licking her. After the second, I treated myself to simply fucking her ... slowly at first ... and then my thrusts into her became faster and harder ... and faster still ... and harder still ... and I exploded, driving deeply into her until she screamed hoarsely up at the ceiling while I clutched her and shivered ecstatically. I collapsed on her, drifting in afterglow, until her pleading whispers disturbed my somnambulant reverie. "Please, Master. Take my mind now. Please."
With a sigh, I reached over and picked up her (my?) necklace, and I dangled it just above her face. In ten seconds, I knew that her mind was my prisoner, as well.
Later, I couldn't get comfortable. Stretched out the way she was, she was taking up the whole bed. I got up and untied her; then I snuggled up to her the way I did every night now, and I drifted off to sleep.
*************
May 29th
After breakfast, I kissed my two ladies goodbye and hit the road for Boston. For some unfathomable reason, getting through the security checkpoint at Logan was very quick and completely painless. But air travel will always result in problems, and so I wasn't overly surprised to learn of a two-hour delay. Then, after boarding, Air Traffic Control held us for two more hours due to weather in the vicinity. By the time I got through customs at Heathrow, my connecting flight to Amsterdam was long gone. I found a hotel room. Daytime flights to Europe are a treat. It's much easier to go to bed earlier than normal (U.S. time) than it is to arrive in the morning, sleep-deprived from an all-nighter.
