We had known each other well in our previous vanilla lives. We had been friends, lovers, partners, a committed couple. We had gone our seperate ways, and years later had a brief reunion. I asked about her life and gave some brief notes on my own.
During our exchanges, she told me of new parts of her life. She was a switch, married to and serving her dom, occasionally playing with subs. She had found pleasure after our parting in becoming a sub, and had met a man that was into swapping partners. The 2 sides came together, each gravitating toward the other.
I asked a few questions and played with questions, asking her about her role. I found myself casually interested in the person she had become. I asked questions I already knew the answers to, gauging her reactions and responses. I made a brief hint about our getting together some time. Her response struck a chord with me; "You couldn't handle me."
A challenge I would be happy to engage. I said nothing. We had limited contact for a time, a word here and there in an email or brief phone conversation. I suspect many times that things will always come full circle. In this case, I was proven correct. I found myself in a conversation with a gentleman that led around to lifestyles.
We chatted for a time about general aspects, and our personal preferences. The more the conversation went on, the more I began to be aware that we had some shared experiences. After a short while, I understood that he was the mate of my previous partner.
When I shared this with him, he was excited at the new dynamic of his relationship. He felt we should arrange for she and I to meet privately, without her knowledge. He knew from experience that she would share every detail of the meeting upon her return. He wanted to then get my side of things and compare notes.
He began his end of things by telling her that she would be meeting an old friend. He did not tell her who, and she knew better than to ask. He had filled me in on certain aspects of her transformed personality, and although I tend to follow my own instincts, I gave some weight to his thoughts. He prepared her for weeks for our meeting. He teased her with hints and vague clues. He reminded her that she was to do whatever was demanded. He refused her every sexual satisfaction until her meeting with me.
He had her choose a wardrobe, immediately dismissing most of her choices as not slutty enough. She was not to wear a bra or underwear, just heels, a skirt and shirt. He seemed not to be satisfied with any combination, rejecting every ensemble she modeled for him. Finally, he accepted one, and decided to personally modify it.
The skirt was short, and if she bent over it would be immediately apparent that she wore nothing beneath it. For him, it was not enough for our meeting. He took the ends of the short side slit and ripped upward. The skirt slit now exposed her thigh to the waist. He told her there was nothing better for a slut than easy access. He then had her put on the blouse. She left the top 2 buttons undone, exposing the top of her clevage. Not satisfied, he snipped off the top 2 buttons, looked at the effect for a second, then snipped off 2 more.
There was a chill in the air on the day of our meeting, and he allowed her to wear a light coat for the trip, with instructions to remove it when she got to the hotel. With that, he took a picture with his cell phone and sent it to me. He reached into her blouse and made her painfully aware of the consequences of altering her appearance in any way. He made it clear that she was to follow any orders given to her. He told her to kiss him goodbye, and she sank to her knees. She took his cock out, kissed the head and his balls, and looked up expectantly. He shook his head and she replaced his cock back into his slacks, zipping him up neatly.
His call filled me in on the details. He made no requests or demands, other than that she should return with her face painted. He told me that they were both excited by the meeting, although for different reasons. He expected this would open a new chapter in their lives.
Not long after our conversation, there was a knock at the door. I opened it and saw her in the hall, lavender sheer blouse open nearly to the navel, her skirt slit up to the waist revealing the outside of her thigh, her coat over her arm. She stopped short for a beat at seeing me, and an odd smile played across her lips. Her eyes flashed something, and she looked me in the eye and stepped inside. I closed the door, deciding immediately what my next move would be.
I turned toward her, standing in the center of the room, eyes fixed on me. The game begins.
I stepped closer to her, and fixed on her eyes. There was a fire in them, defiant and cold. Her lips held a faint smile. More a smirk than a smile, and a feeling welled inside of me. I looked to the left, fixing on nothing in particular. She turned her head to the right to follow my gaze. By the time she turned her head to look back at me, my hand was in the air.
The slap caught her completely off guard. My palm caught her squarely on the meat of her cheek, and she went down. Her hand went instinctively to her face just as her ass made contact with the floor. Her look was a mix of confusion and surprise. I hadn't hit her hard enough to cause any real pain, but I had slapped that look off of her face. She began to raise her eyes to mine.
I stepped behind her quickly, pulling off my belt. I slipped the belt around her neck and pulled up.
"No, you don't look at me. You don't deserve to look me in the eyes. You can keep your slut eyes down. If I see you so much as glance up..."
I didn't need to finish the thought. Her head was down now, staring into the carpet.
I released the belt and grabbed a handful of hair. I pulled forcefully, until she was up on her hands and knees.
"Hands behind your back," I barked. Still gripping her hair, I pulled her head forward and down. Her face was off of the floor by no more than an inch. Her hands went obediently behind her back.
I had several restraints to choose from. I settled on a length of rope and securely tied her wrists together.