2 comments/ 23095 views/ 0 favorites Cynthia's Education By: starmanz1 A little over ten years ago, while I was still in college, I met and became friends with a brilliant, vivacious young woman, Cynthia, who was a top student in one of the science majors. We hit it off really well and often found ourselves drinking beer together, or seeing a movie, or enjoying a meal, or throwing a Frisbee out on the lawn. I have to say, in movement she was one of the most graceful people I have known. In fact, I was deeply attracted to her. However I never acted on this. In those days I was almost pathologically shy with women. Also, her friendship really mattered to me. I didn't have so many friends. I was afraid if I tried to date her and it didn't work, I would lose the friendship, and I wasn't willing to risk it. Furthermore, I was not such a great student myself, and she seemed just a bit out of my league. So we continued in this way for our junior and senior years, with the expectation that we both would likely go elsewhere after graduation. In the fall of our senior year, she announced she was going to go to graduate school, and likely would go to a top university several states away. Surprisingly, I fell into a very pleasant, decently paid, and undemanding job in town right after graduation. We continued our friendship through the summer, and then off she went to graduate school as she had said. There were tears at our parting, and we made heartfelt promises to keep in touch. We did in fact exchange a number of letters and cards, but there was a change. Her graduate program was very intense, and I could tell she was almost being devoured by work in a way that had not happened when she had been at school here. Her letters took on a more serious tone, and there were fewer of them as the months went by. My life couldn't have been more different. My job, as I said, was undemanding, and though fun, just a little bit boring. As a result I had plenty of time to play. I began to find a few friends, and lost some of my shyness with women. But none of these women moved me as Cynthia had, and none of the relationships lasted long or became serious. It was more ironic because Cynthia as an undergrad had had her pick of men and dated frequently while at the time, I was very passionately lonely, and my only real outlet was occasional masturbation. We had explored this topic at great length at the pub, on the lawn, and everywhere else we went together, and cried on each others' shoulders numerous times. So in this way we knew each other fairly well. Now things were different between us. She was so absorbed by work she didn't really have any time for a social life. She also became critical of my free and easy lifestyle and what she wrote was a juvenile approach to life. I admit I was a little flippant in some of my replies, and in retrospect I think that really hurt her feelings. We talked on the phone less and less. Also she didn't like any more hearing about my social life or my dates. About a year after graduation, she announced she was completing a masters' degree where she was, and returning to our university to finish her doctorate. I'd really missed her and I was thrilled. When she got back to town, she asked me to help her to move into her new apartment, and I was only too happy to help. I offered to bring a couple of other friends, but she said no, she just wanted me. This was sort of exciting. I spent two days moving her in, and found I was doing about 90 percent of the work, and she was directing me in great detail. The first day, we worked until nearly midnight, and she allowed me to crash on her couch. Then the next day, we finished about mid-afternoon. She looked really good in her small shorts and tied-off shirt, but I could tell there was something on her mind. I confess I was thinking a lot about how to talk her into taking the relationship to the next level, but she preempted me. "Gregg," she said, "I don't think you are a serious enough person to have a real relationship with me." I started to protest, but she said, "Hush. I do care for you a lot, and I want you in my life. But you're not serious enough. "Also," she continued, "I really don't have time for a full-blown relationship right now. The Ph.D. program is going to be even more demanding on me than the masters' was. But you were an enormous help to me today and yesterday, and I do truly enjoy your company. "Are you open-minded?" she asked. "Yes," I sort of stammered. I had told her in my letters about some fairly wild times with a couple of the women I'd been out with, and so I think she knew this would be my answer. "Have you enjoyed helping me these two days?" was her next question. I was never particularly fond of physical labor, and so I was surprised to hear myself muttering another yes. She had a very interesting twinkle in her eyes, and was smiling for a change while my own face was hot, and I was even sweating a little. But something about what was happening felt good. "Can I be honest with you?" she asked. "Of course," I said. "I don't need a boyfriend, but I do need someone close to me who can run my errands and take care of my apartment and cook for me sometimes and even rub my back when I need it. Would you be willing to do that for me?" I wanted nothing more than to be close to her, and before I could think it through, I found myself saying softly, "Yes." By now I was blushing even harder. She uttered a yelp of happiness, jumped up, and hugged and kissed me. There were tears running down her cheek. "Thank you. Thank you so much," she said. Then she smiled and stepped back. "Since you have so much time, I'll be able to get a lot of use out of you," she said. She sat silent for a couple of minutes, and then she asked me if I had email at work. Email was a pretty new thing in those days, and so she was surprised when I said yes. Even a ne'er do well like me had email. "That's great," she said. "Here's how it's going to work. Every morning I need your help, I will email you a list of what I need you to do, and then you'll be expected to reply back and to do what I ask in the next 48 hours or so. This seemed exciting, and I thought it might be a novel way to go with her to the next level. So I agreed. I reached over to give her a hug and a kiss but she put her hand up. "I think this is enough for one day. I think it's time for you to go home," she said. I started to protest, but she wouldn't hear it. "Look. It's for the best. It's important we get started on the right foot." The very next morning at work I had my first list of chores. I wrote back immediately, and suggested a timetable for me to get the work done. Over the next several weeks I found myself cooking, cleaning, doing dishes, driving her places when she wanted to go shopping, and giving her the occasional backrub. As I said a couple of times before, my job was relatively undemanding, so if I needed to take time away from the office to accomplish something for her or drive her somewhere, it was not difficult. However other than my work for her, we really were not seeing much of each other. Once in a while, I'd meet her for lunch on campus, but that was about it. About three weeks in, she stopped me one day when I was vacuuming the floor. "I'm very disappointed in the job you're doing," she said. "I don't see anything wrong," I replied. She then proceeded to show me several areas where the work was considerably shy of being ideal. "I'm really upset with you," she told me. "And it isn't just this time. It's like you don't care, And I hate that. I thought you really cared about me." "But I do," I replied, frightened of losing her, but with a growing sadness at seeing her look so disappointed. I felt guilty, too. She was my best friend in the world, and I was letting her down. "It really does make me angry, you know," she said. In order to lighten the mood, I said, "Well I suppose you could spank me." She had a dark look in her eye, but there was just the hint of a smile now. "You know, that might be just the thing," she said. "What?" I said, beginning to resist the idea. "I think it's necessary," she continued as she sat down in a nearby chair. "In fact you have two choices. You can either get over my knee right now, or you can walk out of here. But I can't guarantee I will ever let you back in." This really scared me. I'd gotten to a point in my life where I really felt like I needed her Also I'd noticed I was paying more attention and being more effective at work. "I thought you told me you were open minded," she teased. "This is your chance to prove it," With that I surrendered and presented myself over her knee. It was nice. Even in this humiliating posture, it was great to be so close to her. "Gregg, you know I can't really make much of an impact through your jeans. I'm going to have to ask you to pull them down." I think it surprised us both when, without comment, I reached up, undid my belt, and did as she asked. But I was a bit clumsy about it and my underpants came down, too. "I'm sorry," I apologized, blushing. "No. this is fine," she said. "I think it makes my point even better." She then proceeded to spank my bare bottom for what seemed like hours. I confess I was crying by the end. When she saw my tears, she stopped. She asked me to kneel on the floor in front of her and, my pants still down around my ankles, she hugged me closely. "Thank you for that," she said. "It really means a lot to me that you were willing to accept responsibility for your mistakes the way you just did. Promise me you'll do better from now on." I nodded. We talked a bit more. Then after a few minutes she sat back, and told me to pull up my pants and go home. I really did work harder at my chores now. I began to see how to do the tasks really well, and I noticed she was smiling more. This was by no means the last spanking, but it seemed like we were communicating a lot better, and were more comfortable together. In the meantime her own work was coming together very well. In spite of taking a full course load so she could concentrate entirely on her research in coming semesters, she had already made a major breakthrough. She told me she felt having me as her servant allowed her to relax and truly concentrate on her work in a way she had not been able to do at her previous graduate school. She said it wasn't just that I was taking care of so many time-consuming tasks for her, but that my presence in her life and my willingness to help her whenever she desired gave her a strong sense of emotional security. As I grew more proficient at the household chores and more aware on a gut level of what she needed when, the spankings grew a lot less frequent, but her mood began to darken. By now, when I had completed my chores for the day, I would kneel in front of her and let her know which tasks I had completed, and what my plans were to complete any others still on the list. If she was satisfied, she would pull me to her, and we would embrace and talk softly for a few minutes before she gently pushed me away and sent me home. If she was not satisfied, of course, I would be spanked, a ritual I have already described. One afternoon a couple of months after she began disciplining me, I had just finished giving my report. She sat still for a moment and looked thoughtful. "You know you did your chores perfectly well today, and I'm impressed how much more attention you're paying, but I'm not sure it's enough," she said. I must have looked panicked because she laid her hand on my cheek and began to stroke me softly. "No, I don't mean to throw you out of my life, but I think I need a little more from you." I was confused and told her so. "You know, Gregg, I care for you very much, but in all our years of knowing each other, I've seen you be flippant and even cruel, sometimes without knowing it," she said. "And what I hear from you nowadays shows me you haven't really changed." I started to protest my good intentions to everyone, but she put a finger to my lips. "Hush now, and listen to me. I know you can do better and I can help you." "What do you have in mind," I asked, getting worried again. "What I would like you to do," she answered, "is tell me every instance in which you think you even might have been cruel, or broken your word, or failed to do something you said you would do, or shirked at work I'm particularly concerned about how you treat women, and about your behavior at work, but I want to hear it all." "When? Now?" I asked. "Yes, now. Right now," she told me. I was frightened, but I believed in her, so I told her. Two things that stood out were a young woman whom I had dated, and in whom I had lost interest about a month before. The young woman had been bitterly hurt, and in the excitement of my new service to Cynthia, I had ignored her. Also about two weeks later I had done something mildly dishonest at work. "That's quite a little litany of bad behavior," Cynthia said. "Most of it, though, I can let slide, at least for now. But these two things. What were you thinking?" I hung my head and answered that I didn't know. "I think you need to be punished. Don't you?" The guilt I felt as I confessed these lapses to her was intense. I told her I did need to be punished. She nodded, not saying a word, and motioned me over her knee. The spanking she gave was the longest and most severe I had received to date. I was crying out loud by the time she was done. This time there was no comfort afterwards. She told me to get off her lap, pull up my pants and go home. For three days there was no email from her. Then on Thursday, there was a note saying, "Come over to my apartment on Saturday morning. We need to talk." Saturday I showed up at her door and she let me in without a word. She sat down in the chair she usually used when she spanked me. "Come over here and kneel in front of me," she said. Immediately I did as she asked. She looked at me for a moment with eyes that were both hard and sad at the same time. "The behavior you confessed the last time you were here really appalled me," she said. "I had no idea you could be so cold and uncaring, and I don't like it one bit." She paused. "But I thought about it, and thought a lot about you all week, and I think underneath it all you're a good person, and in spite of what you told me, I do enjoy being around you. Still, this is going to be more difficult than I had thought, and you're going to have to do quite a bit of work. "What I want us to do is this. Once every two weeks, I want you to kneel in front of me and confess your wrongs. We'll set a specific day and time. After you confess, if I deem the offenses serious enough, you will be punished. "There is something else I want. Before you kneel to confess, I want you to remove all your clothes. I really want you naked in body and naked in spirit when you do this, so that you don't even think about lying." I was overjoyed. I had been certain she was going to get rid of me, and my relief was immense. I admit I had some hope that once my clothes were off, I could persuade her to reciprocate, and then we could get to the next level. So I agreed. The following Monday the list of chores arrived on my email, and my service began again. So two weeks later I presented myself nude at her feet, and made my second confession. This time she said, "There's nothing here that rises to the level of needing punishment," she said. "Have you told me everything?" I assured her I had. "There is something else, though," she said. "I am disappointed at all that hair on your genitals, and on your legs, too. It looks unsightly and crude. And you don't really smell that good. The next time I see you, I want you to be clean shaven down there, and you need to be clean besides. Is that too much to ask?" I guess it was the effect of me being nude in front of her, she looking as sexy as she ever did, and the look in her eyes that expressed her need for me to do this, and I said yes without a murmur. Two weeks later, I presented myself bathed and clean shaven at her feet. Once again, as my behavior improved, the frequency of spankings decreased, but this time she did not seem to be getting the dark look in her eyes. I got in the habit of bringing flowers, and potpourri and such to brighten the atmosphere, and she seemed delighted by these touches. She seemed more content. After the semester ended, she kept right on working in the lab, and continued to express surprise at how much easier the work seemed with me there to serve her in her personal life. Since Cynthia really wasn't spending any strictly social time with me, I started dating a woman. I sort of fell for her, but she could tell, I think, that I was a little bit too tentative about the relationship as such, and so she broke it off after about a month. About a week before this second woman pulled the plug, Cynthia called me and asked me to come over. Of course I did so right away. "I really like the way you're progressing in your life, and how well you have begun to take care of me and what I need," she said. "I'm going to give you a special treat, if you want it." I told her I did. She asked me to take off my clothes, and then led me by the hand into her bedroom. It was the first time I had been in this room with her. She led me to the foot of the bed and asked me to kneel there. Once I was in place, she circled around behind me and tied a black silk cloth over my eyes. "Just trust me," she said as she stroked my cheek. I only nodded and let out a soft moan. I then heard her walk back around me and sit on the bed. I heard what seemed like her pants being removed. My sense of smell was heightened, and it was a beautiful smell. After a moment, she put her hand on the back of my head and slowly guided my mouth to her sex. I had never been particularly good at cunnilingus, but by the way she moved her body, and the instructions she whispered, she taught me what I needed to know. She quickly got excited, and after what seemed like only a few minutes, she bucked and screamed and pushed my head back. "Thank you," she said. "That was wonderful." She sat up, pulled her pants up, walked around behind me, and untied my blindfold. She motioned me to get up, and said, "Let's go back in the other room." I noticed by the clock in her bedroom nearly two hours had passed. "But isn't there any more?" I asked, bewildered. She came around in front of me and slapped my face. "Do you realize how many men would give their very lives to be where you just were?" she said sharply. "You need to learn to be grateful for what you have, and not worry about what you can't have." She led me to the other room, pointed to my clothes, and told me to go home. The next morning, my list of chores was there on my email. By now I had gotten a home computer and could receive her instructions seven days a week. A few days later, after I had completed my assignment, she had me strip, led me into the bedroom, and we repeated the ritual. This time I did not complain, but instead wept with gratitude. I felt a wonderful, almost spiritual feeling come over me as she experienced her pleasure. This time, after she pulled her pants back up, she drew me onto the bed and held me for a few minutes before she sent me home. I may have given the impression by the way I've written this that we never talked. Nothing could be further from the truth. When I was at her apartment, she encouraged me to tell me all that was up with me and to pour out my troubles to her if the need was there. The following week, the woman I was seeing broke up with me, and partly because it was a surprise, and in spite of the quality of my continued interaction with Cynthia, it really did get me down. A couple of days later, I was at Cynthia's doing my chores, and I was so listless, it was obvious even to me. Cynthia's Education Cynthia came in the room and noticed right away the poor quality of my work. "You know," she said, "That's bad enough I'm going to have to spank you." Immediately she sat down, motioned me over her knee, and told me to drop my drawers. The spanking was fierce. Afterward, while she was holding me in her arms, she asked what the matter was. I told her about the breakup, and how heartbroken I was. She thought for a moment and said, "I see this as a real problem." "What do you mean?" I asked. She said, "I think because of the loyalty you owe me, when you date these women, you really don't have enough to give them, and so they are bound to be disappointed. Also, you still show an adolescent attitude towards them. I'm not sure your interest is any more than superficial and purely physical." I nodded. She had hit the nail on the head. "Just as important, these women distract you from the service you owe me. When you're dating someone, you are just not paying enough attention to me and my needs, and I don't like that." "What can I do to make things better?" I asked. "I think if you are going to continue serving me," she said. "You do want this don't you?" I nodded. I did want it. Very much. "I think I'm going to have to ask you to stop seeing other women as long as you have this connection with me." I must have had a resistant look in my eyes, because she said, "You've just shown me you can't give me the attention I deserve when you are involved somewhere else. Don't you see that this just can't work if you keep it up? You really do need to make this sacrifice for me." I didn't like it very much, but I realized the truth of what she said, and so I agreed. "Thank you," she whispered. She gave me a quick kiss on my forehead and sent me home. The next few weeks I noticed I was getting better at the chores. Cynthia was smiling more. The spankings cut even closer to my core, and her ecstasies when she allowed me to go down on her, always with the blindfold, moved me more deeply than ever. I really felt closer to her. Not paying attention to other women allowed me to focus on how wonderful she was. Several weeks later, on an afternoon when I had just finished going down on her, she untied the blindfold and pulled me onto the bed to cuddle with her. After a few minutes, she took my face in both hands and looked deep in my eyes. "Gregg," she said. "There is one thing you've never told me, and I'm very curious." "What," I asked. She replied. "You've never told me what you do for sexual release when you aren't dating, like now." I looked at her with watery eyes and admitted, "Well, I masturbate." "Interesting. And what do you fantasize about when you masturbate?" "Well, to be honest, for most of the time since we met, I've fantasized about you. What it would be like to make love to you." "Do you think it brings you closer to me when you do this?" "Well yes . . . and no," I said shyly. "It hurts me that we never make love, but it's great thinking about you." "I think this might be a problem," she said. "Since I have no control over when or how you do this, I feel almost like I'm being used against my will. And I don't think that's fair. Actually, it kind of gives me the creeps." "But it isn't like that," I said. "No, not to you. But you have a limited, selfish point of view, so I don't think you can see how this hurts me." "I truly don't want to hurt you." "I believe you. The problem is, you're emotionally clumsy," she said. "So it's like you just do what you do and if my feelings get in the way, you don't notice until the damage is done." "I hate it when you feel bad. What do you want us to do differently so this won't be such a problem?" She said, "What I think we'll have to do differently. You want to stay connected to me, don't you?" I nodded. "That's not going to work any more unless this part of your life is connected to me, too." "What does that mean?" I asked. "What I think it means is there's only one way to keep this connected. I don't want you masturbating any more unless I give you permission. That way, there's a connection, and when I do give you permission, you're doing it for us, and not just selfishly, for you. The other thing is, I can't let you ever ask for permission, because that just brings up the selfishness issue again. So I will tell you when you may masturbate, and otherwise you may not." "But that will be so hard," I said. She buried my face in her shoulder and said, "I know it will, but you have to be strong. I need this. We need this. Trust me, it will make us closer." She began to gently stroke my back. It was so warm and I felt her heart beating through her clothes. I knew I had no choice but to agree. "At least promise you'll be reasonable," I said, with a little bit of desperation in my voice. She arched an eyebrow and smiled a guilty smile. "We'll just have to see," she said. But she was right. The new discipline did make me feel closer to her. And everything I did for her was suffused with a new degree of ecstasy. It was a bit like the front porch of heaven. She began by giving me permission once a week, along with detailed directions of what I was and was not allowed to fantasize about. "Remember, this is about us now," she said. Soon, though, permission was given no more than once or twice a month. My chores continued. The periodic confessions and spankings kept on. About every week, she would have me go down on her. And from time to time, she would take me up on the bed and would cuddle with me. It felt like I was floating on air. My admiration for her as she began to make her original discoveries just grew. My respect for how she was handling me grew, too. My unselfish devotion to her was making me a better person. And now she was smiling a lot, and that was the best treat of all. One day, after she let me into her apartment to get started on that day's chores, I just noticed a deep inner beauty radiating from her. Her intense control of my intimate psyche made her seem almost like a goddess. Right away, I knelt to the floor and kissed her feet. She raised me up almost immediately and told me she loved what I had done, but she didn't want me ever to think I was allowed to just play with her feet. Then she patted me on the bottom and shooed me off to my tasks. Afterward I would kneel to kiss her feet whenever I first saw her after entering her apartment. It always made her smile when I did this. (After the first four months she had given me a key so I could help her even when she did not have time to be present.) This middle period of our relationship went on for nearly two years. I was performing much better at work, and began to get raises and commendations. I was having to spend more time on the job, and even travel out of town some. But Cynthia never complained about having less of my time. Over the months I grew more efficient at the chores she gave me and they took me less time. A little more than a year into our connection, I came over one evening to help with the chores, and a male friend and she were discussing a technical problem at the dining table. "Oh, hi," I said. This was the first time I had seen any other person at her apartment. "Am I interrupting anything?" She immediately snapped her fingers and pointed at her feet. Her colleague looked puzzled, as I blushed and just stood there. She scowled and pointed again at her feet. She wanted me to kiss her feet in front of her friend. Her scowl brought me back to reality, and hit me hard with all of the guilt I felt whenever I disappointed her. In spite of the humiliation I felt in having to show my submission in front of this guy, I realized I had to do it. I knelt down immediately and did as she wished. Just as quickly as I finished, she said, "Now go on. Get to your chores and don't bother us." This hurt, because I almost always had been the center of attention when I was serving her at her apartment. Nevertheless, I did as I was told. The guy asked her as I left the room what the deal was, and she replied, "Don't worry about him. Like I explained to you, he's my slave," and giggled slightly. They talked in low voices for a couple of minutes and then went back to what they were working on. A couple of hours later, the guy left and as soon as she shut the door, she called me over to her. "You embarrassed me in front of one of my most valuable colleagues when you showed up and did your 'What, who me?' act." "But," I replied, "I was really embarrassed having to do that in front of that guy." "He's not 'that guy,'" she said heatedly. "He's one of the most important post-docs in my department. I have to work with him very efficiently whenever he gives me the time, or I won't make the kind of progress I need to on my thesis project. And I can't have you messing that up. Kneel down in front of me." I did so. "In fact," she said, "Get over my knee." I did so, with my pants down, and she proceeded to give me one of the hardest spankings she ever had. She had me kneel up in front of her when she got done, but there was no cuddling. Instead, she looked me in the eyes, and said sternly, "You will show me the same respect and render me the same homage when I am here with a colleague or friend, as when we are alone together. Is that understood?" She continued, "I don't want you to show any hesitation, or any lack of enthusiasm. You should be proud to serve me. I considered it very embarrassing when you failed to show this in front of my colleague, and it better never happen again." I cried and nodded weakly. This was difficult. Over the next several weeks, she from time to time would have friends, almost all of them colleagues from the lab over to her apartment. I learned to behave just as inconspicuously as she desired, and always to kiss her feet upon greeting her, no matter who was present. One evening, I even cooked and served a meal for six, and cleaned up afterward as her friends and she laughed and enjoyed themselves. Her guests never spoke to me, except once in a great while to ask me to get them a drink or to bring them their coat or some such. Cynthia encouraged them all to treat my presence as her servant as something perfectly natural. This seemed a bit weird to me at the time. I think maybe she got away with this because of her high standing in her department. She also never entertained faculty when I was present. A few weeks later, after I completed my chores, she ordered me to strip and then cuddled me on the bed. Her soft caresses, as usual, brought me very close to her and opened my heart to her suggestions. "Do you know I haven't actually had a man since about six months before I came back to school here?" she asked. I nodded, not quite knowing what to say. "I think what it is I might be gay." I started to shake my head no, but she put a hand on my cheek and continued, "Why I'm telling you this now is there's this new exchange student from Thailand. She's the most beautiful woman I've ever met. She's brilliant. We've become very good friends, and just this last week she's started flirting with me. "What I want to do is have you prepare a totally romantic dinner for the two of us; candles, dim lights great food, wine, soft music, the whole bit, and then serve it like a first class waiter. And then of course you would clean up afterward. I've told her a little bit about how I handle you, and I think it excites her. It would mean so much to me if you did this." She looked at me with pleading in her eyes, and I heard her heart beat harder as she waited for my reply. Finally I told her I would do it. She sat half way up on the bed and said, "Yes-s!" just like a little kid who'd been given her favorite candy. Then she set the date, told me when to be over and how to dress, and what to cook and what wine to buy. Then she told me to put my clothes back on and go home. On the appointed evening, I arrived at five with the wine and all the ingredients, and spent the next three hours cooking up a great repast, if I do say so myself. I set the table in a formal style, dimmed the lights and set out candles. I set out the appetizers and uncorked the wine so it could breathe. As soon as Cynthia and her lovely and exotic looking new friend walked through the door laughing and giggling, I dropped what I was doing, walked over to them, knelt down quickly and kissed Cynthia's feet. "Wow. You have got him trained," her friend said. "I think this is going to be exciting," she giggled. Cynthia gave her a quick hug and kissed her on the cheek. I took the two women's wraps, and having got preferences gave them each a pre-dinner drink. I brought appetizers as they sat chatting amiably. As soon as the main course was ready they sat down to table, and continued their animated conversation. I didn't hear much of it because I was busy in the kitchen and working hard to make sure the table service went smoothly, but it sounded intense, and it was clear they were getting along very well. After dinner and dessert, Cynthia asked me to bring them coffee and brandy in the living room. Their conversation continued just as strong, soon being replaced by giggles and soft moans as they began making out. As soon as I got all the dishes in the dishwasher and was drying the last of the pieces that had to be washed by hand, Cynthia came into the kitchen. She was looking very excited and almost out of breath. "I think it's time for you to go," she whispered. I was a bit disappointed. I had kind of hoped to see some of the show. But I knew she was right. I looked her in the eyes and sincerely wished her good luck, even though I feared if this went really well, I might lose her. But she was so clearly having a wonderful time, that it would have broken my heart as well as hers if I had done anything at all to disrupt it. As I turned to go, she grabbed my face, giving me a kiss on the lips, and saying, "Thank you. Thank you. Thank you so much for this." After I got home, I realized she had not given me permission to masturbate for a month, and I lay awake all night in a frenzy, fantasizing about what was happening at Cynthia's apartment. There was no new email from her the next morning, and for three days afterward. On the fourth day, her email said simply, "Come over at three." I showed up as directed. As soon as I kissed her feet, she told me to strip right there at the door and follow her into the bedroom. Once the blindfold was on me, she pulled me roughly to her sex. I could tell she was angry. She bucked herself against my face so hard my lips were cut and bruised. She wasn't done for almost three hours. Afterward she pushed my head back, pulled up her pants, and ordered me to get dressed and go. "But what happened?" I asked. "I don't want to talk about it," she almost shouted, and started crying. "Just go. Now," she said. She never mentioned her erstwhile lover again, or said anything else about being gay. As our connection continued, so did our passionate conversations. But I noticed something. Even though she would tell me a lot about herself, she began to refuse to answer when I, wanting to know more, asked questions. Finally she told me she wanted no more questions from me. Anything she chose not to tell me simply was not my business. Twice when I forgot myself and asked questions in the next four weeks, she stopped the conversation immediately, turned me over her knee, gave me a severe spanking and sent me home. Her work progressed. She began receiving invitations to conferences and important technical meetings, and won a couple of awards doing so. Her research was nearly complete. Even though she was still a graduate student she started to carry herself with even more pride than before. She told me in a few weeks she would be able to begin writing her thesis and expected to be able to graduate by the end of the year. One day I was driving to pick her up. She was coming back from presenting a paper. On my way to the airport, I got a strange feeling in the pit of my stomach. Maybe it was because she had seemed a little distant the past week. She hadn't talked as much as usual. Also it had been nearly three weeks since I had had a spanking. At the airport we greeted each other as usual in public with a quick peck on the cheek. I grabbed her bag and we went to my car. I tried engaging her in conversation, but she stayed very quiet, and I, remembering her rule against questions, did not feel free to press the issue. When we got to her apartment, I carried her bag in, and was getting ready to go unpack for her when she stopped me. She told me to put the bag down and ordered me to strip. When I was naked and on the bed, she got down beside me and we began to cuddle. I realized the last time this had happened was almost a month ago. Her soft caresses and the closeness I always felt with her opened my heart and I began telling her how much she meant to me. After a few moments, she shushed me and said, "Gregg, I need to talk to you about something." "About what?" "You know, I've been practically celibate since about six months before I came back to school here. And it's been great. It's left me free to concentrate on my work and not get distracted by things that don't matter. I'm going to be able to publish three or four papers from my thesis, and what I've done is going to make a real impact. "And you've helped me be disciplined like this. Your work to take care of my household needs so I haven't even needed to think about it, and the way you let me relieve my frustration on you (and here she smiled) have made all the difference in the world. I really don't think I could have done it without you. At this my heart began to beat fast. I thought she might finally be willing to make love to me. Her caresses felt so intimate and wonderful. She put one hand on my cheek, and said, "I really want you to stay with me. So you have to listen to what I need to say. When I was at the conference, I met an old friend from where I got my masters. We got to talking, and . . . well I just might as well tell you. We slept together." At this point I put my hands on each of her arms and pushed her back. I was angry and frustrated and sad and lonely all at once. "You can't have! Why did you do a thing like that?" I blurted out. "After everything I've done for you, why couldn't you just do it with me?" I suppose if I had been a more forceful person I would have just continued to push her away, gotten out of bed and left her apartment for the last time. But I wasn't. I just lay there a second deep in shock. She saw the moment and took my face in her hands. "Gregg," she said. "This is exactly why I don't. It's always about you. What you need. Your selfishness would just distract me and I wouldn't be able to focus like I have. I wouldn't have been able to do the work I've done. I wouldn't be able to be me." She inspected my whole face to try to get a clue what I would do, but I just lay there. She started again. "I've been celibate, as I just told you for over three years, and it was getting to me. I had to face up to the fact that I needed a man inside me again. And it had to be something I could walk away from. Don't you understand? I could never walk away from you." At this point she began crying, and I couldn't help myself. I put my arms around her and began to comfort her. I caressed her hair and her back and held her close to me until she began to breathe evenly. She looked at me carefully. "Gregg, I don't want to lose you, but if you can't accept what I have to do to meet my needs, I'm prepared to. You really will have to leave. And I won't ever be able to talk to you again. I would hate that. Please tell me you'll accept this." At this she caressed very gently along my bottom, and a small jolt of what felt like electricity went through me. "It won't be so bad. I'll be happier. You'll see. Please say yes. Please be there for me." Cynthia's Education I still loved her. I couldn't walk out of her life. Heaven help me, I said yes. She held me for a brief period longer, and then told me I should get dressed and go home. She gave me permission to masturbate when I got there and said I could use any fantasy that worked for me. Not surprisingly, my fantasy was her in an unending rut with my idea of the guy she'd slept with, and eventually I exploded with bitter tears in my eyes. Two days later, I received a standard email from her, and we resumed our normal routine. And even though what she was doing hurt my feelings, and I went through the occasional weeping spell. Now that she was sexually active, she seemed more divine than ever. She always did tell me when she was going to be on a date, but I never learned who she was seeing, never met them, and had no specific idea of what was happening, except to the extent that she would let me know sometimes that she had slept with someone the night before. As we went into the fall, I fell in with a group of new friends, some of them from work. Unlike previously in my life we all got to know each other rather well. They all knew I had a thing for Cynthia, and some of them had figured out she mostly called the shots and I wasn't necessarily getting a lot of action. But if any of them had figured out the extent of my servility, they were kind enough not to mention it. For obvious reasons my evenings were a lot more free now. We all decided to go together to a U2 concert that was coming up at a nearby outdoor arena. Cynthia was nuts for U2 and so I figured she would be going with a date. I figured also the arena was big enough she wouldn't ever see me as long as I was careful. My friends and I all arranged that I would just meet everybody inside. For my part this was so if Cynthia had any last minute chores for me, I could get them done without inconveniencing anybody else. About four the day of, I was just starting to get ready and think about what I could have for dinner when the phone rang. It was Cynthia. "Gregg, I need your help. Stephen's car broke down." Stephen was the guy she had been seeing for the last couple of weeks. "I need you to drive us to the concert, and take us home when it's over." I think I agreed as much because I was curious as anything else. I wanted to get a look at this guy she was, well . . . fucking. And for whatever reason, at this point I just didn't care about the possible embarrassment. So I said yes. So some three hours later I pulled up at her apartment. She and her date weren't waiting at the curb, so I went up. I knocked on the door but no answer. I called her name, but still no answer. Finally, the door opened and she was wearing a short robe, her hair in a mess, and a guilty grin on her face. "Just wait here for a few minutes. I'll let you in when we're ready," she said. Her wink felt like a knife in my heart. After about five minutes she opened the door. I stepped in. She gave me a quick glance toward her feet. Immediately I knelt down and kissed. As my head came up I saw she was wearing a glorious club dress I hadn't even known she owned. She looked radiant. "We just couldn't help ourselves," she giggled. "Stay on your knees a second." She looked over at her date, and said, "Stephen, this is my slave Gregg. Gregg, this is Stephen." We shook hands awkwardly, and nodded. He looked like he was a little confused, but he didn't look unhappy. "Well, go to it Gregg," Cynthia said. "Bring the car right up to the step and make sure to hold the door for us." I did what she told me. They sat in the back. On the way over for the first part of the drive Cynthia just talked casually to Stephen and to me. He was a senior at the university. "I like them young," she said with a grin. The second part of the drive over, I guess they just got intoxicated with each other, and they started making out, and ignored me for the rest of the time. When we got to the arena, I drove them straight to the gate. As I opened the door to let them out, Cynthia said, "It's too bad you're going to miss this concert. I want you to wait over by the taxis and limos, and pick us up right as we come out. Can you do that for me? I nodded slowly. "Don't just nod. Speak respectfully to me," she said. "Yes," I said. "I said respectfully," she repeated. I understood. "Yes, ma'am." "Good boy," she said. Then she grabbed Stephen's hand and they went on into the concert. This actually fit my plans. I figured she would insist on staying until the last note was played, so if I excused myself a little early before the encores, I should have no trouble getting back to the entrance in time to meet the two of them. I parked my car, went into the concert and met my friends. At the first intermission, one of the women pulled me aside and said, "I saw you at the entrance acting like a little slave boy for that Cynthia. I think that's lousy. You really do need to get straight with yourself, and be a man." I'm not sure what I replied, but U2 came back on stage and we all got lost in the music. I didn't forget what she said, though. Just as the band was getting to the end of its second set, I told everyone I was not feeling entirely well, and thought I'd go home and get an early start on bedtime. People wanted me to stick around, but in the end everyone was pretty understanding. As I left, though, the woman who had talked to me, whose name was Susan, gave me a long look and a discreet wink. I got my car and went around to the taxi stand. As I looked over to the entrance, I realized my well-laid plans had just gone to the dogs. There was Cynthia, standing with her date, and looking very impatient. Immediately I drove over to them, got out of the car and held the door. From the look she gave me, I understood the old Greek myth that said Medusa could turn a man to man to stone with just a glance. She was truly, truly angry. Immediately she sunk into Stephen's arms, and murmured something about how I had been a bad slave, but she would punish me later. Right now she had better things to think about. They made out the rest of the way to her place. When I got there, I pulled to the foot of the steps, went around the car and opened the door so they could get out. As she got out of the car, she looked me straight in the eye, and said, "You'll get what's coming to you. Be sure of that." Then she grabbed her date's arm and they went up to her door. They looked very eager to get inside. For two days, I didn't hear from her. Then the following morning there was email. "Come over at noon," it said. After she let me in and I'd kissed her feet, she put her hand on my shoulder to keep me on my knees. "You really screwed up not being at the entrance when I told you to be," she said. I kept my silence. "Normally, you know, I'd spank you within an inch of your life and just send you home to meditate on what you did wrong." "Yes, ma'am," I said. "That's very good," she said. "I like your contrite manner. I'm going to give you a chance to make it up to me; to do something very special for me. Are you willing?" I wasn't sure what to expect. The eager look in her eyes made me worry, but certainly it couldn't be worse than the kind of spanking she described. So I said yes. "OK," she said. "This is what I want. Stephen is coming over in a few minutes. I want you to be a perfect servant to us both, and to do whatever I ask while he is here." This frightened me, but I only nodded weakly. "You will address me as ma'am and him as sir today. We intend to enjoy ourselves fully, and you will do everything you can, and anything we ask, to make it good for us. Do you understand?" I told her yes. "In particular, I want you to greet him at the door the way you would me." I knew what this meant, and I really didn't want to. She noticed and said, "You agreed to this, and you know what the consequences are if you back out. I think you need to decide for real right now, because it will only be worse if we go further and you back out then. I promise you that. I thought for a moment. "Yes, ma'am," I said. "Excellent!" she replied. "Go ahead and go into the kitchen and start with our lunch." I counted myself lucky I'd had the presence of mind to eat before showing up at her place. A few minutes later there was a knock at the door. I answered. It was Stephen. I invited him in, closed the door, knelt down, and kissed his feet." "That's a good boy," he said in a contemptuous tone as I got back up. "She's trained you well. More her credit than yours, I'm sure." "Thank you, sir," I replied, my face hot and red. "Look at that, honey. He's blushing," said Stephen as Cynthia came into the room. "Don't just kneel there like a rock," she said. "Get back into the kitchen," As I turned to do so they caught each other in a passionate embrace. "You're totally awesome," she told him. "There's no one like you." This hurt, but I just went to the kitchen and finished preparing lunch. I served it in a semi-formal spread with some white wine she had picked out. I stayed nearby placing and removing dishes, and keeping their wine glasses filled as they chatted happily away, catching up on the news of the last two days. "Get us some coffee, will you," Stephen said. "And bring it to us in the living room," Cynthia added, grabbing him by the hand. They went in, and by the time I brought the coffee, they were cuddled up on the couch. She was glowing like something divine. I moved to the edge of the room while they continued their conversation and began kissing. After about a half hour of this, Cynthia looked up at me and said, "Clear off the coffee things and come kneel before us." I did as I was told and presented myself a moment later. "How important is it to please me?" she asked. "It's the most important thing in the world, ma'am," I replied. "Are you willing to do what it takes today?" "I'll do my very best, ma'am." "Not very brave, is he," snickered Stephen. This really bothered me. "Oh, honey, just give him a chance," Said Cynthia. "He'll show you just the way he's shown me." "OK, babe. I trust you," he said back with a grin. "Gregg," Cynthia said to me. "I want you to go into the kitchen, take off all your clothes and present yourself naked to us." This wasn't like her at all. I began to get very nervous, but she didn't seem to notice. Stephen did, though. He caught my eye as I got up to go comply, and he chuckled. A couple of minutes later, I was nude and kneeling before them. She produced a blindfold, and bound my eyes. "I want you to get down, take off both our shoes, and worship our feet," she commanded. "And I don't want you to show any favoritism either. He's your master today, just as I'm your mistress." This was getting more and more strange. Regardless, I got down, felt around, removed their shoes, and began kissing and worshiping their feet. Above me, I began to hear the soft sound of caresses, whispers and moans as they began to make out. In a few moments I felt a piece of clothing land on my back, and heard the whisper of another as it landed behind me. They continued this for a moment or two until, I guess, all their clothes were off. It looked like they were going to do the deed right on the couch. This was very unusual. Prior to this day, Cynthia had never been completely nude without a closed door between the two of us. Even when I'd gone down on her regularly, she had never removed all her clothes, but only lifted her skirt or pulled down her pants. When she had invited the girlfriend over, she sent me home before any clothes came off. And I had never been inside the apartment when one of her boyfriends was there. Even though, as always, she had me blindfolded, and I couldn't see anything, this was very much a new departure for her. I wasn't really sure I liked it. Very quickly now, their feet came off the floor. He kind of kicked me as that happened. "Stay down," Cynthia whispered to me. I did as I was told. The sounds of frenzied lovemaking continued and got louder as the minutes went by. Images of her pleasure in rhythm with the sound raced through my mind, and I felt myself getting excited. They went on for quite some time, their moans punctuated by shouts as one or the other of them reached climax. There were several rounds of shouts, and once Cynthia reached down and patted my head, but that was all the contact I had. Finally, Cynthia said, laughing, "Enough. Enough, you maniac. You've exhausted even me." "There's more where that came from," he replied. "I know, I know. Maybe later," Cynthia said, and they both chuckled. The obvious affection between them hurt me a lot, even more than the fact that she was making love to him with total abandon after so many years of refusing me. After a few moments of snuggling and chatting together on the couch, they both sat up. "Gregg," Cynthia said. "Kneel up." I did so. "This is where you really are going to prove your obedience," she said. "I want you to go down on me right now." She placed her hand on the back of my head, and began to caress. "You mean in front of him?" I asked frantically. "Yes," she said. "Did he even use a rubber?" I continued. At this she let go and slapped my face. "That's none of your business right now. Besides, you're going to find out soon enough." She had told me she had gone back on the pill when she had started dating again, so I knew it was likely she had not had him use a rubber. "I think there's too much risk of disease, I said, frantically looking for a way out. She slapped my face again. "That's a huge insult," she yelled. "Are you questioning my judgment?" I shook my head weakly. "If he's safe enough for me, he's safe enough for you," she said. "Now are you going to do what I say or not?" I shook my head again. At this, Stephen said, "I don't think you're showing the proper respect to this lady," he said, as he grabbed me roughly by the hair. "I want you to apologize." "I'm really, truly sorry," I said in a low voice to Cynthia. "You need to apologize to Stephen, too," she said. "I'm sorry, sir," I told him, although I hated like poison to say it. He said, "Maybe if Gregg thinks he's too good to go down on you, he needs to go down on me." "I like that," said Cynthia. "I think he needs to do that. He's got to do something to make up for how he's behaved." Stephen, who had maintained his grip on my hair, gave a hard pull, and tried to drag me over to his crotch. At this point I just lost it. All the frustration, and jealousy, and humiliation, and yes the anger from how she had been treating me, and how she was allowing Stephen to treat me just boiled over completely, and instead of sucking his dick, I just started beating the stuffing out of him. He was a good looking well-built guy, and I think fancied himself a bit of a jock. But I had boxed a little in high school and played baseball my first two years of college, so even blindfolded I was able to handle him. I heard Cynthia screaming in the background, "Get off him! You're hurting him! Stop, Gregg! Just stop!" I felt her pulling on my shoulders. I told her, "I'll step back, but if he makes so much as a move toward me, I'm right back on him." "OK," she said. I backed off, and she moved quickly around me and into his arms. "Oh honey, I'm so sorry," she moaned. She said over her shoulder to me, "Leave the blindfold on, find your way to the kitchen, get your clothes, and get out of here. Just go." After close to four years I knew my way around her apartment pretty well, so I turned and slowly made my way into the kitchen where my clothes were, pulled off my blindfold and dressed. By the time I peered around the corner into the living room, there were only scattered clothes lying there. The bedroom door was shut, and I knew that's where they were. I just went to the door and left. For days afterward I waited in vain for email from Cynthia. I was afraid to call her. It began to dawn on me that the last little episode might be the end of my connection with her. When I wasn't working, I kept on hanging around with my new friends. I also found myself spending more and more time with Susan. She was dark haired, thin, intense and kind of cranky. But she had a lot of interesting things to say, and I liked her anyway. One day, we were walking in a park, and sat down together on a log. "You know," she said to me. "I'm getting tired of your standoffish ways. You're going to have to step up to the plate and be a man, or I'm just going to have to dump you," she said laughing. At this, she reached over, grabbed hold of me and kissed me hard. I kissed back and kissed back with enthusiasm, so help me. After a moment, I pulled my head back and said, "I can't. You know I'm loyal to Cynthia." "She's sure not loyal to you," Susan said. "I've seen her around town canoodling with that obnoxious guy she sees. I even saw them together at the U2 concert. I think everyone knows except you, you idiot. I think she's taking you for a ride" I didn't know what to say, but I knew I was angry, angry at Cynthia for all the years of taking advantage of me, and especially for allowing Stephen to try to take advantage of me. The thought nearly made me vomit. I knew what to do. I looked at Susan and told her, "OK. So you want to see what kind of man I am? Let's go over to my place, and we'll see." We went there, and I've got to say, it was pretty good. We didn't go the whole girlfriend-boyfriend route. She said she wasn't ready for that, but our bond did grow, and we saw each other one or twice a week. She turned out to be pretty bossy, and seemed to get her way almost all the time. However, she had no interest in obedience rituals, or any kind of kink. She was lusty and enthusiastic, but strictly vanilla in her sexual tastes. For over a year I didn't hear from Cynthia. Then, several months after she'd graduated and moved out of town, I got a letter. It had a west coast postmark, but no return address. "You were right about Stephen," she wrote. This was strange, because she and I had never discussed him. "I don't know why I didn't see it. About a month before I graduated, I caught him cheating on me. That was it. I haven't seen him since, and don't intend to." After a little more about her life since she moved, she closed like this, "I was so sad after your last outburst. I felt like I couldn't trust you any more. It seemed like you'd lost your focus and didn't care about me. Your violence shocked me. I do miss you, but I couldn't continue to see you. I seriously doubt you'll ever find the discipline you need, but even so, I wish you all the luck in the world. Affectionately, Cynthia." That was the last time I heard from her. I married Susan a few months later, and we were good together; we even considered having a child. The crowd of friends I met with her began to drift away over time as some of them moved away and most of the rest turned their attention to their own kids. Susan kept a pretty tight handle on me, but we did have fun together, and the loving stayed good for quite a while. I became very successful at work and was promoted to be the head of my old department. Nevertheless, sometimes, late at night, when I was alone because Susan was having one of her frequent girls' nights out, or I was on the road for my job, my thoughts would turn to Cynthia, and my heart would ache for the bliss there was so often when I was with her.