All kinds of questions about everything, starting from where I was raised, about my parents, what church they brought me to, what they fed me, my siblings, my school experiences and grades, questions about my friends there, girlfriends, when I lost my virginity, my first job, when I left home and why, etc..
And I stood there answering them, too. I told the truth because I knew she was building a portrait of my personality and she'd know if I fudged on a few details here and there. People who do this kind of thing are generally well trained in psychology and I began to suspect more and more that she was. Lying really wasn't a safe option.
Then she wanted to know about everywhere I'd been up to then, every province, city or town, why I settled there, what I did there, who I knew, girlfriends, vocations, when and why I left.
Again, I honestly answered these and any questions of clarification she had until she finally had no more and at last allowed me to sit, my dick still hard as I allowed myself to look more and more often at her body when I had the chance, hating myself for it every time.
After getting up to get herself another drink, she returned, sitting across from me again and regarding me seriously before speaking.
"You see? What's so hard about just doing what you're told? You've done very well with that little interview and now I feel I know you a lot better. I know it embarrasses you to have to stand there naked in front of me, but it was for your own good. You see, men are so good at hiding behind their clothes. That's why the saying, 'The clothes don't make the man'. A woman probably came up with it, a pity you men don't take it more seriously. I suppose it's not really your fault, though, you've been left to run yourselves in this world for so long, it's not surprising you'd do this to yourselves, that you'd come to what most of you are. You're an especially sad case. Look at you, you're still as hard as ever, still so hot for me, even though you hate me. Yes, I know you do. Nevertheless, I accept you as my submissive. I'm even quite happy to have you, and before I satisfy myself with your cock, I'm going to lay things out for you."
She shifted, getting a little more comfortable while my anxiety level climbed the walls for the ceiling.
"It didn't have to be the hard way. You tried to fight me, you couldn't accept my domination of you, couldn't accept that you have nothing left to fight
with
. Your problem, pet, is that you're used to running from your problems. Yes, once all of the little preparations and barriers you erect between yourself and the circumstances that could spoil your selfish little world are battered down, you run. You had very little fight in you to begin with. It's true, isn't it? You can't even stay settled in the same city for three years without wanting to run from all those pesky little hazards and responsibilities that come with sooner or later coming to know people. Look at the string of failed relationships that you yourself sabotaged in the end because, deep down, you knew you'd sooner or later be gone rather than face up to some commitment, some problem. By your own doing, you're no more than a hunted animal. I see it in your eyes and I always did. You're a mess, boy. And you thought you could fight me? Exactly what did you think you had to fight with, your stupid pride?"
She paused to laugh at this point while I bit back certain suggestions that, if voiced, would most likely get me beaten to a pulp or imprisoned. At least my erection was finally going away. The worst of it was that I again had no defense for this, again knowing that it was all true and that I'd been ignoring that ugly fact for the last ten years. However, that didn't mean I needed her to throw it in my face.
"Do you know what you are to me?" she casually asked. "You're some scruffy, mangy, flea bitten little coyote that somebody mistook for a dog and abandoned at the animal shelter. I rescued you from the needle that someone would have surely given you at some point. But you should never forget that you played your own part in this as well. You placed your fate in my very hands the moment you came through my front door this evening. You had a choice to make and you chose me, it doesn't matter that you made that choice under duress, the fact is that you've willingly submitted yourself to me and you knew you would, knew it all the way over here and you knew it as you knocked on my door. Be honest with yourself about that, at least. Accept the fact that those moments out in that hall were the very last moments of existence for the man you knew as yourself."
"And if you're honest with yourself, you'll see that you're better off. Yes, you are. You have nobody, boy. Nobody wants you and nobody gives a shit about you because you keep everyone at arm's length. You even tried to keep me at arm's length, the only friend you have in the world, the one person who does care about you enough to not let you run, even though you don't know well enough to appreciate me. Yet."
She rose from her seated position and looked down at me, still driving her demeaning points into my mind and slowly opening her blouse further, showing more of her bra. (DD-cup?)
"You are now my pet. You are my boy. You are my toy, my ragged little coyote and I am your life. From this time on, your purpose is to be whatever serves me. I own you, David, and you aren't running anywhere because your running days are
over
.
Once again, she was more or less right in the things she said about me. I closed my eyes and looked into my lap while my erection came back yet again and my shoulders slouched. I somehow felt a little shorter then, a little smaller and a lot more helpless.
"Yes, that's good." she approved. "You're beginning to accept your situation now and the more you do that, the better things will be for you."
She paused, watching me as she stepped a little closer.
"I know you're new to my lifestyle, that you don't understand and how much you hate me for this, but in time you'll come to feel different about it, about me. You'll even thank me. Oh yes, you'll worship the very ground that I walk on and there won't be a damned thing you wouldn't do for me, simply to please me. In time, you'll thank me for saving you from yourself and you
will
love me. Just the thought of life without me will be almost impossible for you to bear."
The room was silent for a short time before I broke it to ask in a voice just above a whisper, "Why? Do you really hate me that much? As much as all this?"
"Hate you?" she asked in surprise.
Dagmar smiled, almost sympathetically and eased herself into my lap, taking my chin in her hand and making me look at her again.
"Heavens no, pet. If I hated you I'd have just thrown you to the wolves right away. Oh no, I don't hate you at all, it's not like that. True, your rotten attitude at work has angered me many times and continued to bring you to my attention after the first time I saw you in the classroom, but that's one of the things that convinced me that you'd make such a nice pet for me, that you had such potential. Desperate strays always do make the best pets, you know. So appreciative after one wins their trust, you see. Oh, I was veeery patient, waiting for you to deliver yourself somehow, worrying that you'd run off down the highway again in that foolish looking penis extender you drive." she said, stroking my once again fully erect phallus with a light fingertip.
I jumped at her touch and she leaned in to shove her breasts in my face with her evil smile.
"In fact,... in ways you don't understand right now, I adore you. Once I'm through with you, you'll be my perfect subbie. Ah, Mistress Tonia will be soooo jealous after sticking that worthless little turdball she calls a submissive in my face for the last two years."
