4 comments/ 29608 views/ 23 favorites It Started on the Metro By: Kyla_girl At this point, I couldn't even tell you what day it was when everything started. I just know I took the metro—maybe the car was out of gas or traffic was crazy (well, traffic is always crazy) or something. I remember that I was dressed kind of cute that day, a button-down and black skirt. Nothing special, but more than my everyday attire. I remember that the metro was pretty crowded, it was the beginning of rush hour. I didn't have my backpack, just a purse—wasn't wearing a knife, nothing. I'm kind of glad, though. I'd have hated for things to turn out different—although I guess I never would have known. Anyway, it was crowded and I squeezed between a middle-aged Mexican lady and a gentleman who'd just given his seat to an elderly lady with a cane. The man was dressed in a pastel purple-blue button-down, black slacks, and a silver, purple, and pink diagonally striped tie. He was wearing after shave, or maybe just really nice soap—either way, he had that sort of forest-y, musky scent I love so much on guys. He was white, almost a head taller than me, with dirty blonde hair that was gelled into that kind of somewhat-spiky-young-businessman look. I didn't take too much note of him, other than enjoying his smell, until he stumbled into me when the car lurched. He smiled and apologized—he had a nice smile and a deep, pleasant voice—as he straightened again. I nodded and went back to whatever thoughts I had been thinking. Then his hand brushed my ass. It gave me goosebumps, but I tried to shrug it off. It was probably an accident. Even if it wasn't, I was embarrassed to think that I might have possibly, maybe... enjoyed it? No way, part of my brain argued. There's no way I could enjoy that. Either way, it was definitely an accid— Then he squeezed my ass. There was no way it could have been a mistake. That was a sure, deliberate squeeze. Before I could turn around, I felt his breath hot on my ear. "Do you enjoy having your ass groped by complete strangers?" I gasped and started to turn to give him a piece of my mind, but his other hand on my shoulder held me in place. "Don't turn. Don't cause a scene. If you do, I'll have to stop... and I know how disappointed we would both be if that happened." As he said that, he squeezed again, and I felt a rush to my face and... other parts. I sneakily glanced around to see if anyone was noticing my emotionally and sexually confusing violation. Despite my attempts at subtlety, I felt, as well as heard, his chuckle. "Did you want them to notice? To see what a little slut you are?" As he called me a slut, his hand gave my ass a firm smack, then gently rubbed it in. I shook my head, then nearly yelped when he pinched me. I didn't know this man from Adam, but he was playing for hell with my poor nerves. "Don't lie to me, girl." His voice had darkened, sending a fresh wave of goosebumps with every sentence. "You're obviously a little slut, or you wouldn't be enjoying this quite so much." He leaned in to whisper, his body pressed against mine. I could barely hear him over the gushing sound of my cunt. "I think you know you're a slut... and I think you want this whole train car to know as well." I shook my head again and squeaked something unintelligible. He chuckled, the bastard, but let me clear my throat and find my voice. "Please don't." "Please don't... what?" This isn't happening. There is no way this is happening. "Please don't... sir?" When no response came, I continued. "Please don't tell the car that I'm a little slut, sir. Please, sir." The Mexican lady turned to stare at me, then edged away while I stared innocuously at the ceiling, cheeks burning. Again, I felt, as well as heard, his chuckle. "I think someone just found out right now. But you can rest assured, my little slut. Your secret is safe with me." I nodded and shakily breathed, "Thank you, sir." Good Lord, I'm gonna need to change my panties when I get back. He squeezed my shoulder approvingly with one hand and rubbed my ass with the thumb of his other hand. "Good girl for thanking me." The metro ground to a halt, causing him to lurch forward again and grab two handfuls of my breasts. He gave them each a subtle pinch before straightening and adjusting his tie. As he did, he murmured: "Ooh, very nice, little slut. I think those would produce quite well... and make good playthings either way. Hm, a shame they're so covered up, though." He moved forward slightly, just enough so I could feel his breath on my ear again. "Why don't you unbutton your shirt and display them properly." My hands automatically moved to obey before I stopped and hesitated. Who did he think he was, having me unbutton my shirt? And what was I doing, blindly obeying a stranger? He wants me to unbutton my shirt? Then what? He said produce, and that they're playthings. Oh, shit. He can't mean... I felt his weight shift as he noticed my hesitation. Why did he have to smell so good? And why did his voice play across my skin, raising goosebumps and leaving my cunt soaked? "You don't have to, of course. You could just leave it buttoned up like a good little girl, hiding those beautiful assets you've been given. Just leave it buttoned up, and all this will stop." Well, it is just a few buttons... When the train started again, he used the momentum to pull me into him. Oh, what the hell. I undid a few buttons with shaky fingers, opening my shirt so it barely concealed my bra. "One more." With only half a second's hesitation, I obeyed. He squeezed my shoulder again. "Good girl." He shifted again, his body pressed right up against mine. I could barely think. I could barely breathe. I was all too aware of something firm and quite insistent poking into my tailbone. Definitely gonna need to change panties. "Does that feel good?" I nodded slowly, breathless. "What do you say?" Deep breath. "Yes sir. It feels good, sir." "Good girl, that's better." He bent down to grab his briefcase and shifted his weight away from me, towards the door. "This is my stop. Get off with me, and we can talk. Otherwise, no hard feelings." I felt/heard his smile. "It was an enjoyable ride; thank you for that." I don't know why I followed him off—fuck that, I know exactly why I followed him off. In any event, my drenched pussy and I followed him through the crowds at the station to a nearby grassy area. There were some picnic tables and ashtrays, but no one was using the area to smoke at the time. He gestured for me to take a seat as he did the same, setting his briefcase down in the grass. He cleared his throat and smiled. "I didn't expect you to follow me, but I'm glad you did. What's your name?" "Kyla." My heart was trying to beat its way out of my chest. "And yours?" He gave me his name, then added with a wink, "But you can call me Sir," as he stretched out a hand. He had a pleasant handshake, warm and firm and dry. Even his handshake is turning me on. Get a hold of yourself, girl. He cleared his throat again and adjusted his tie. Could he be nervous? He gropes me on the metro, but he's nervous about it going somewhere... hm. He cleared his throat again, bringing my attention back to the present. "Now. Are you a student? Working? Both? Extracurriculars?" "All of the above, sir, although my job is flexible. Why?" "It gives me some place to start. I train subs, and I'm trying to get a feel for you." He paused. "If this goes anywhere, you would be my only submissive. My last left a few months ago—she's now an up-and-cumming porn star." He smiled. "She did very well with training. Now, for training, I—" He paused. "Er, you do know what a submissive is, yes?" I nodded. "BDSM?" Another nod. "Dominants, slaves—" "I'm familiar with all of it, sir," I interrupted. He raised an eyebrow, but let me continue. "I've been in the kink community and had Dominants before. Although," I blushed, "none who groped me on the metro." He smiled. "That was tame compared to what we'll do if I take you on, but it's good to know you're not a complete innocent. Now, if I take you on—that's a big if—you will maintain stellar grades in your classes and a strong work performance. Do you mind if I ask your job?" "Lifeguard," I responded, "and sometimes tutor." He nodded. "You'll be getting plenty of rest and exercise, then. A 3.5 GPA at least—" "I have a 3.8." The eyebrow shot back up. "That's good to know, and I'll expect you to maintain that or higher. I'll also expect you not to interrupt me again. You will maintain at least a 3.8, good physical shape, healthy sleep patterns, and overall good physical health. You will immediately notify me of any concerns. Now, thoughts thus far?" I exhaled slowly. "They're... all over the place. I'd like to keep talking. You haven't really said what being your submissive actually entails, except for the part about taking care of myself, and I think I still don't know you from Adam. You're just some guy who groped me on the train." The words hung in the air. "Um, sir," I added belatedly, to try to add some respect. The corner of his mouth quirked upwards as he leaned forward. "That's to be expected. As for what it entails, it entails whatever I say it does. I'll use you as a slut, a toy, a pup, anything and everything I want. I'll determine your diet, wardrobe, workout routine, everything. You're feisty, which is adorable. You'll learn; you'll be broken in like a horse. You'll serve me sexually and also in everyday life—cooking, cleaning, all of that. You'll always have time for studies and fun, of course. I'm firm, and I expect the best out of you—but you'll see that I'm also very generous to good girls." He paused, seeing the stricken expression on my face. "Yes?" I swallowed—several times, as my throat had gone dry—and whispered, "Broken in?" He grinned, the bastard. "Oh yes. And then, the fun will just be beginning." It Started on the Metro Pt. 02 We exchanged numbers, and I went home to wonder what I'd gotten myself into. The next day, we met for lunch at a café in downtown Houston. It was a normal lunch; we made light conversation the whole time. He asked about my studies and, to my surprise, just nodded when I told him that they were going well, but not as great as I hoped. We talked about movies, books, about his powerlifting and my swimming, just ordinary, everyday topics. I noticed that every time I cussed, he raised his eyebrow just a bit. At first, I cussed a little more to see if I'd get the same reaction—then stopped when I earned a disapproving frown that made me want to sink into my chair. Guess I won't be doing too much of that anymore. The week continued like that, going on small dates, with me sometimes stubbornly pushing boundaries, and him setting them. He started laying down expectations about school—he wanted me to get all As, which I wanted for myself, but he made it clear that it was non-negotiable and that I would be doing a lot more studying than I was. We spoke on the phone every night, sometimes talking about relatively innocuous stuff, sometimes about limits and expectations and conditions, sometimes with him dropping dirty jokes or D/s references that made my face feel 3rd degree burnt. We probably would have talked even more, but this was right around midterms and I spent a lot of time in my books—when I wasn't daydreaming, writing stories, and looking at pictures on FetLife. Still, I probably spent more time studying than I had all semester, which was good, considering how much I'd been slacking off. Luckily, midterm break fell right after midterms that year, which was a nice stress relief. I mentioned that in talking with him. He responded, casually as anything, "Good girl, I'm very proud of you for making it through your exams. You'll come over for your break, of course." My heart skipped. "What?" "You understood, girl. I'd like you to come over for your break. It'll be fun. I promise." "Yes Sir," I said without thinking, while the more rational part of my brain screamed. You don't know the first thing about this guy! For fuck's sake, he groped you on the subway! He could be a serial killer! He could rape you and beat you every fucking day! Of course, the suicidal part of my mind thought in a small voice, There's nothing wrong with that. I must have gone silent on the phone as I argued with myself, because He spoke up. "Relax, girl. I'm not a serial killer. You have my number, you can leave it with a friend. I'll also give you my address, we can even set up safe calls if that would make you feel better." I'm pretty sure the Dom isn't the one that's supposed to set up the safe calls... Nevertheless, I agreed. Because I'm suicidal. I mean adventurous. Which are synonyms. And horny. I agreed because I'm horny, too. And what the hell, he made me feel good. Because I'm adventurous. Anyway, I requested time off from work, told Jessica and Lisa where I'd be and for how long, and showed up at his house with a duffel and backpack, wearing a skirt and cami with no panties or bra, as per his instructions, after my last class on Wednesday. He met me at the door like a perfect gentleman, wearing a dusty purple button-down with the top two buttons undone and the sleeves rolled up, and dark-wash, slightly torn up jeans. He did raise an eyebrow at my duffel. "I hope you didn't pack too many clothes—like I told you, you won't be needing them." I shrugged. "I figure that this way, if you want to go out, I won't have to re-wear old clothes." Actually, I had just been unable to wrap my head around the idea that he would really keep me naked for that long. I mean, a girl had to wear clothes sometimes, right? In any event, he let me in and showed me where to put my duffel and my backpack, in an office-type room that adjoined the master bedroom. When I went back to the living room, he was standing there with a strip of leather that had a ring in the middle and an open locking mechanism on the clasp. I'm pretty sure my heart stopped beating. He smiled. "Come here, girl." My brain babbled incoherently, providing no help whatsoever, while every other instinct in my body screamed at me to obey. So I did. He had me stand with my back to him, back straight, hands at my sides. The sound of the clasp sent an electric chill down my spine. I still remember that sound, and that feeling—the soft leather encircling my throat, the cold metal ring resting above my sternum, the click of the lock. He slid two fingers under it all the way around—I guess making sure it wasn't too tight. It reminded me of someone checking the fit of a horse's bridle. He spoke, his breath tickling my ear—rather like the first time we met. "Only I will take this collar off, girl. Do you understand?" I nodded. "I expect an answer, pet." Being called a pet sent more chills through me, in the best way possible. I touched my collar—my collar—with one hand, caressing the leather. My voice sounded far away as I responded, "yes Sir." "That's my girl." He ran his hands over my shoulders and stepped back. When I turned, he stopped me by squeezing my arms and walked around me, his eyes assessing, inspecting. I straightened automatically, hands going behind my back, and was rewarded with a smile. He stopped in front of me to lift my skirt, making heat rush to my face—and my pussy. Don't move, don't move. Remember, you knew this would happen. Don't move, don't move. He slid his hands around under my skirt, his dancing eyes holding mine captive. He squeezed my ass and murmured, "Now, this I'm familiar with... although it is nice to encounter it without any clothing in the way." His hands slid back around to the front, brushing my clit, and chuckled at my squeak and sharp inhale. "Very nice, pet. I'm pleased that you followed my instructions. Tell me, is it tender?" I nodded. "I never shave, Sir. I hate shaving. It's really sensitive right now." He grinned, the asshole. With how this stay is already going, I should probably stop calling him asshole in my head. Except when he's being an asshole. Like now. "Excellent. Then you'll be in the right frame of mind for the weekend." He flicked my clit, making me gasp again, and let my skirt fall. "I'm sure this must be a lot to take in, so I'll let you keep your clothes for now. I'm very pleased so far—you're a very good girl." Hearing his praise, something inside me relaxed. It must have shown in my face, because his predatory grin also relaxed into a proud smile. "That's my girl." He let me answer emails and work on homework while he made dinner (a nice surprise, since I'd been worried about cooking in a strange kitchen with my emotions in this state), then called me in to eat. The food—salmon and spinach—was absolutely delicious. He made a cryptic comment about enjoying eating like this while I could, but then refused to explain. Great. More to set my mind spinning. After dinner, I washed dishes while he checked emails for the night—which seemed right, somehow. I didn't mind this type of service, and it let me process my racing thoughts. What would come next? What was he going to do? Was he going to hurt me, and how badly? What would I do if he broke a limit? What was he planning, and would it feel good? What if he didn't like my body, or if I didn't please him? What if he was disappointed in how I performed, or how I looked? His voice called from the other room, "Relax, little one." What is he, telepathic? "I promise not to let you displease me, and I certainly won't let you fail. I'll walk you through everything. That's the point of training, my girl." It Started on the Metro Pt. 03 Right as I finished the dishes, I heard his laptop snap shut as he called me into the room. Here goes nothing. I wiped down the counter, washed my hands, and entered, nervously wiping them dry on my skirt. He looked me up and down with that appraising look I was learning to get used to. "Strip." "What?" "You heard me." His eyes were lit up, but his hands were on his hips and his mouth was stern. Well, he could look stern all he wanted to. There was no way I was going to— An eyebrow shot up and his face grew more serious. I shifted my weight. His other eyebrow joined the first. Maybe stripping wouldn't hurt. He smiled again as my clothes started hitting the floor. "Good, you've remembered what you're for. For a moment, I thought my girl had forgotten her place." He looked my now naked body up and down, then at the floor. "But this won't do. Do you know how to fold clothes? Put them on the sofa—neatly." A bit of sadism crept into his grin. "If you need a folding lesson, I'd be happy to demonstrate." There's that look again. How does he do that? Cheeks burning, I picked my clothes off the floor while he watched. "Douchebag," I muttered under my breath. "What was that?" "Nothing." I gave him my sweetest smile. "Did you just cuss at me?" "Douchebag is hardly a curse word—" I protested, before a hand gripped my hair, forcefully yanking my head back. My startled eyes met his steady blue ones. The slap shocked me. Have you ever had the sensation of spinning and tumbling while being pinned, immobile? This was like that. His voice was soft, making my stomach contract and my heart pound. "Language, girl. Language and respect, especially to Me." "Yes sir." I tried to look at the ground, but it was hard with his eyes five inches from mine. The silence hung in the air for a moment that stretched on an on. Then—"I'm sorry, Sir." "Good." He brought my head forward so my forehead met his lips, then released me. Those eyes stayed on me, though. I'd never thought about how blue eyes would feel caressing my skin—or maybe it was just that it was him. Maybe both. Anyway, I folded it all neatly—no lessons required—and stood in from of him, back straight, looking straight at him. I wasn't sure what to do, really, but I wanted to please, so I did my best. He looked me up and down for a moment. I don't know if he was savoring my body, enjoying my discomfort, planning what would come next, or all three. He gently caressed my cheek, his other hand lightly exploring my shoulder, neck, chest, and stomach, leaving goosebumps in its wake. "How do you feel?" I swallowed. "Excited. Exposed. Guilty for calling You what I called You. Happy. Nervous. Anticipating." He nodded. "Just relax. Like I said, it'll be fun and you'll love it." "How do you feel, sir?" He grinned. "I feel fantastic. Very eager to play with my new toy." He ran His hands over my body, caressing, exploring. With only a second of hesitation, I started doing the same to him. He was so muscular, more than any guy I'd met before, certainly more than anyone I dated. I undid the top button of his shirt, pausing to look at him for approval. He smiled and nodded, his hands toying with my breasts, tweaking my nipples. I undid His shirt and tugged up on His undershirt. He shrugged both off, letting them fall to the floor. Sure, so HE can leave clothes a mess on the floor. His dancing eyes met mine. "You can pick those up later." Without another word, he picked me up to kiss me. I automatically wrapped my legs around his hips as he rained kisses down on my face and neck, carrying me to the bedroom. I could feel His hard cock pressing against His jeans. I smiled. "Excited, huh?" He dumped me on the edge of the bed and undid his jeans, responding, "It's not every day I get a new slut toy to play with." He smacked my pussy, which both hurt and made my already swollen clit throb with longing. He grinned. "Is my little bitch horny?" I groaned and grabbed His wrists, trying to pull Him on to me. Since the night He'd invited me over, I'd been ordered to edge once in the morning and once in the evening and otherwise not touch myself there except to shave. I wasn't just horny; I was desperate. He pushed me back onto the bed and barely rubbed His cock along my slit, gently teasing. I moaned and bucked my hips towards Him, but each time he pulled back just enough to maintain contact, but not enough to bring me any kind of pleasure or release. He grinned down at me, one hand on my collar and the other on my shoulder, keeping me firmly in place. "Sir, please fuck me," I begged. He raised an eyebrow, still not losing that sadistic smirk. "Are you sure? I don't want you to feel like we're moving too fast or anything." He barely dipped his cock in, giving me just a taste, before resuming His teasing. "Sir, please," I begged. "Please, I want your cock." He smiled and looked back down at my breasts. "Keep going," he said before kissing and savagely biting them. What do I say?" Uh, Sir, please fuck me. Please use me really hard, please." "Keep going." "Um, please... please use Your toy, please use Your little slut." "You're thinking too hard. Relax. Give up. Submit to me, tell me what you're really feeling." I was silent for a moment. What I was really feeling? At that moment, he ground his cock against my clit for a split second, the pulled away. I moaned desperately and suddenly, the words poured out. "Sir, please please plunge Your cock into my cunt, I'm so fucking horny. I need Your cock, Sir, I need You to use me, to fuck me, to hurt me, to make me scream. Your slut needs this, Your horny little bitch really needs this." He entered me hard and fast, making me scream and wrap my legs around him. He put both hands on my hips and fucked me brutally hard, filling me completely, bruising my cervix, making me stretch and scream—whether in pleasure or pain, I couldn't tell you. All I know is that the fear of being torn apart felt completely amazing. "Tell me how it feels," he growled as he thrust into me. "It feels—ohmygod, it feels amazing. Holy shit, you're big, and it hurts a little, but it feels so good, like it hurts in the best fucking way. Please, please don't stop, Sir, it feels so, so good." "Stop thinking. Keep telling me how it feels." Stop thinking? How can I stop thinking? Did he want to hear all that—and it does hurt, I'm being honest—it does hurt, it does feel good, and gods above, He's big. He paused in his thrusting and hooked a finger though the ring on my collar, pulling me up to him. He moved his hand to grip my hair and wrapped the other one around my throat, staring intensely into my eyes. "Stop censoring your thoughts. Stop telling me what you think I want to hear. I want you. Not what you think I want, little girl." His eyes got more intense and his grip tighter, cutting off my air supply. "Submit." I tried to pull back, but his hands held me firm. Gods. I can't breathe. "Submit. You're safe, I promise. You know you're safe, or you wouldn't be here. Now, take a deep breath—" he released my throat, letting me inhale deeply, before tightening his grip again—" and submit. Relax. Give yourself to me. All of you, even the parts you don't like, even what you don't want to show me. I want everything, girl." He wants everything? But—Suddenly, I couldn't look away from his eyes. Those blue, piercing eyes. And I suddenly understood, and with the understanding came submission. I submitted, and gave, feeling the tension in my body go out with a rush, leaving only a sense of peace and an incredible, raging lust. He must have felt something change, because he grinned and shoved me back on the bed, releasing my hair and throat. Before I could catch my breath, he plowed into me. Even stroke was amplified and every touch was electric. "Can Your horny little bitch please cum, Owner?" He grinned and thrust into me again, holding it this time. "Cum." I came violently, hips bucking, grinding my cervix further onto him, legs rewrapping him and clinging to him as waves of electric, overwhelming pleasure coursed through me. When it was over, my body went limp, legs falling open, eyes closed, relaxing back onto the bed. His hands caressed my thighs and hips, giving me a moment to catch my breath. They he said with an audible smile, "We're not done yet. Look at me." I obeyed, and fell into his eyes, unable to look away. "That's my girl." Still holding my eyes captive, he drove into me again. I moaned. He thrust harder, and I screamed. Was he bigger, stiffer than he had been before? He lifted my legs up, holding my ankles together in the air as he plowed me, making me even tighter on his cock. "Can I cum, Sir, please?" "Cum, whore!" I came again, involuntarily bucking my hips and driving him further into me. Before the orgasm was over, I heard his voice again. "Cum." I did, almost against my will, my body quivering and shuddering with exertion. "Cum." I moaned as my body orgasmed again, the electric waves of pleasure becoming painful, overstimulating me as I fought to stay aware, to stay there mentally as each orgasm ripped its way through my sanity and rationality. He growled, "You're fighting it again, girl. You belong to me, remember? Cum." I came involuntarily, thrashing and trying to pull away from him, from his words and his cock. How is my body still going? He pulled out, lifted my ankles above his head, and gave my ass a sharp smack before pushing me back down and drilling into me. "Cum." I came, starting to lose myself in the waves that coursed through my body and the pain-pleasure that was the pounding in my cunt. "Good girl. Cum." I came, losing the battle I fought to keep my grip on reality. There was only him, and his pleasure, and his cock, and my throbbing cunt. "Cum." I came, slipping away and losing myself in the waves of pleasure and pain, the sound of his voice, the pleasure mixed with caring mixed with sternness in his eyes. Each touch was amplified again, each sensation more intense and every ounce of pain was felt multiplied into pleasure. "Cum." I came, my body a slave to his voice, exhausted muscles shaking, wondering how I could possibly keep this up. We both sighed with pleasure as he burst inside me, filling me. I felt oddly aroused and safe, despite being at the mercy of a man who seconds earlier had been doing his level best to split me in two. When He was spent, he collapsed on top of me, making me giggle as he prevented my attempts to move out from under him. He finally rolled off and pulled me into his embrace, running his fingers through my hair and over my skin. "You're mine, girl." "I know, Sir. It's just hard. How did you make me cum so much?" "I know it's hard; that's why I'm here. As to how—" he kissed my forehead "—you gave yourself to me. And what you didn't give, I took." Goosebumps ran up and down my skin. This shouldn't feel so right. I should be freaking out right now. Why does it feel okay? What is he doing to me? My thoughts were interrupted when He gripped my hair and forced me to meet His eyes. "You're overthinking again. Do you feel safe?" I nodded. "Do you know I'll protect you, even when I use you and hurt you?" I nodded. "Do you think any harm will ever come to you from me?" My mind raced, but I already knew the answer. I shook my head. "Then relax. You're a very good girl, and you're My very good girl. Just relax, little slut. Breathe and submit yourself to me." So I did. It Started on the Metro Pt. 04 Thursday morning The next morning, I rolled over and groaned with pain. Holy shit, my cunt hurt. And why was it so damn bright? I sat up, sleepily rubbing my eyes, and had a moment of panic. This isn't my room. This is not my bed. What the—oh. Right. Shit. I looked down and, sure enough, my thighs were coated with dried cum and juices, the sheets covered in it. I laid back with a sigh. Damn, that was a crazy night. I don't even think I remember everything that happened. I sat up again and checked the room before relaxing back onto the cum-covered sheets. And where is he? I laid in bed for a minute, debating whether I wanted to get up and face life, or slide back between the covers. Before I could decide, he walked in, looking sexy as fuck with a Captain America t-shirt and worn jeans and a towel slung over his shoulder. "Well, good morning, beautiful." What a perfect thing to say. I didn't just beam—I glowed. He grinned and leaned in to kiss my forehead. "Are you excited for the day?" I smiled back—it was impossible not to, with him so chipper. "I guess I am now, Sir." "Good. Breakfast is ready. I don't know what you like, so you got the same food I eat. I forgot to ask, any food allergies we haven't discussed?" I shook my head. "Just the ones you know about, Sir." "Fantastic. Come eat." As he walked away, his voice drifted back: "And don't you dare shower or get dressed, slut." Damn. I wandered into the kitchen to find a big cushiony thing on the floor next to the dining room table and him plating some food onto a plate, and a smaller portion into a shallow bowl. A bowl of orange juice already sat next to the cushiony thing, and a glass of orange juice sat on the table. Ah, shit. I swallowed nervously. "You didn't tell me you had a dog, Sir." "I don't." He turned, bowl in one hand and plate in the other. "Set the table; after last night, you know where things are. Only one setting." I obeyed, trying to focus past my pounding heart and trying not to think. What will come, will come. He sat down and smiled at me as I set a place for him, then hooked a finger through the ring to my collar. "You should know that you look beautiful in the morning." He pulled me down to kneel on top of the cushion and kissed the top of my head. "Your food is there, dig in." With no further ado, he did the same. I stared skeptically at the food in my bowl—it looked like eggs, steak, and cheese, and it smelled delicious. I glanced up to see him watching me with an amused expression. He didn't say anything as our eyes met and I looked back down at the bowls. I tentatively bent down to lap at the orange juice, then pulled back as soon as my tongue touched the liquid, cheeks flaming. This is humiliating. I looked up to appeal to him, but his stern look changed my mind and I looked back down again. Maybe it won't be so bad. But you'd think I'd at least get a straw. I lapped at the juice again. It tasted good, but did nothing for my thirst. I lapped a bit more. He does realize that dogs' tongues are built for this? Mine isn't. Then I felt his fingers gently combing my hair. "That's a good girl; you'll figure it out." Maybe this isn't so bad. I lapped at the juice again. As long as he expects me to finish this today. I bent down further to slurp at the juice, but was pulled back up by my hair. "No slurping. You can lap it up like a good bitch." Aaaaand wet. Dammit, I've only been awake for ten minutes! As if he'd heard my thoughts, he chuckled. I looked up to glare at him, but when I saw his grin, I couldn't help but smile back. I lapped up some more juice, splashing some on the tile floor in the process, but he didn't seem to mind, aside from a brief warning that I was cleaning the cushion if I got it messy. I nodded and turned my attention to the eggs. How could I eat it without looking... well, stupid? He was still watching me. "Sir, how d'you expect to finish your food if you keep staring at me?" "Oh, at the rate you're going, I'm not too worried," he replied, eyes dancing. Should've seen that answer coming. I sighed and started eating. We ate in silence, with his free hand occasionally playing with my hair or petting my skin. He finished first, of course, but sat there and let me take my time, smiling encouragingly and running his hands over my body. I finally finished, licking the crumbs and the last drops of juice. "Very good girl," he praised, the pride evident in his voice. He drew me up to sit on his lap. "How did that feel?" "It felt really awkward," I confessed. I expected a reprimand, but he simply nodded and let me continue. "I got orange juice everywhere, it took forever, and I feel like I have food all over my face. It was really weird." He kissed my cheek. "You don't have food anywhere except the floor, little one. I'm very proud of you, good girl. That must have been hard after last night. I promise, it'll get easier. Normally, I'll have you lick up the food you got on the floor, but this was your first time and you did well." "Is that how I'll always be eating? How come you have me eat like that? Do I have to lick off the floor? Won't that make you not want to kiss me? How come—" He cut me off. "Relax, little one. We have all weekend. No, that is not how you'll always be eating, but it is how you will for most of this weekend and quite frequently afterwards, so I'd get used to it. I have you eat like that because I enjoy it and it reminds you of your place, pup. Yes, you'll have to lick off the floor, although I may give you one or two more meals to get used to eating like that. We'll see how much you spill and how generous I feel like being. I will always want to kiss you." To prove his point, his fingers wrapped in my hair and guided my lips to his. I could maybe get used to this. Half an hour and a few new hickeys later, I washed dishes again while he worked on his laptop. Once everything was put away, I went to his office and stood there awkwardly. "What now?" He looked up, his eyes showing obvious pride and lust as they roamed my naked body. "Stand up straighter." I hadn't realized I'd been slouching, but he was right. I let my shoulders fall back and tried not to think about how it made my tits pop out. It was clear that he noticed, though. The corners of his mouth quirked up as he nodded approval. "Good girl. Try to remember that." He looked at his laptop screen and sighed, then back at me. "As much as I'd love to play with you, I think you need time to process and I need to get some work done today. Do you have homework?" "I always have homework." "Then sit your naked little ass down here and do it." I sat at his feet and wrote for class while he worked, occasionally playing with my hair or caressing my cheek. We were there a good while, long enough for my mind to wander. I saw that he was immersed in his work and, tilting my screen away a little bit, decided to take a quick Facebook break. I'd been scrolling news feed for only a few minutes before his fingers tightened in my hair. "That doesn't look like homework, does it?" I kept my voice casual as I tried to play it off. "Oh, I'm doing a study on the content people ow post on Facebook ow ow Sir ow stop ow," explanations turning to protests as he pulled me up by my hair. His face was relaxed and friendly even as he tugged painfully on my scalp. "Is that right, slut?" I responded, "uh huh," through gritted teeth. I never did know when to quit. He sighed and swung me over his lap, delivering two hard, fast blows. "Ah! Fuck! Sir!" He paused, his voice stern. "Count, slut." "One! Two! AH three! Ouch four! Sir, please, I'm five! sorry, we've bee—six!—been working a while an—seven!—and eight! Nine! Ten! Ow, Sir, I'm sorry!" He pulled me off and lowered me down, giving me time to get my knees under me before releasing me entirely. "What did I tell you to do?" I studied the tile floor, as I felt his disappointed gaze. "Homework." "Is Facebook homework?" "No Sir." "Did I give you permission to take a break? Did you ask?" I looked up beseechingly. "I didn't know I had to!" "Now you do. No Facebook until I say otherwise, understood?" I silently looked back down and nodded. Without warning, he grabbed my chin and forced me to look up at him. "I told you I'd break you, little one. Remember?" his eyes meeting both of mine in turn. "You can opt out at any time. You know the safeword, and you know that I won't keep you from walking away. But until you do, you are mine. Is that understood?" I nodded and tried to pull away. Both hands grabbed my face in a vise grip and forced me to meet his gaze. "Yes Sir! Yes, I get it! No more Facebook!" He didn't speak or move. I huffed and tried to shove him away. When that didn't work, I tried to push his chair out from under him—anything to get away from those eyes. Neither attempt worked. "I just—ugh!" He still didn't speak or move, staring into me with the same intensity. The minutes stretched out, each one feeling like an hour. My racing heart slowed and let my brain catch up. Once calmed down, I felt a vague sense of annoyance—at myself, not him—followed by an acute sense of shame. I cleared my throat and shifted my body, my cheeks flushing bright red, and he still didn't move or release me. I met his eyes and understood—at least, I think I did. "You're going to break me, Sir?" He nodded. "Why?" "You tell me." He's not using any pet names this time. He must be serious. "Er, I... um..." I floundered for a quick answer, then made myself slow down. He wasn't releasing me until I gave the right answer, so I might as well take the time to do so. I inhaled and exhaled, thinking about what had gone on in the past two weeks, how he had acted and how I'd responded, and vice versa. I finally came to a conclusion. "You're breaking me because I can't serve you unless you do. You have to break through my old habits to get me where you want me to be." He nodded slightly, but his grip didn't change. There must be more. "Um... because I want to be broken, deep down?" He raised an eyebrow. Okay, maybe not. Or maybe not quite. My thoughts turned to the night before, to what that complete and total submission had felt like. "Because I need to be broken to submit, and I need to submit to feel fulfilled as a person and as your sub. I've submitted before, but I've never done it this deeply. So you have to break through the things that keep me from doing it. Like procrastinating, because you want me to do good in school, but also because you're showing me that you control how I spend my time." He nodded, his eyes softening, and his grip softened but didn't release completely. He wants me to keep going. "Which is really weird because I'm not used to having to ask permission, but at the same time... I don't know, it's nice to know that I have to give over total control. To know you'll accept nothing less. But it's hard. It's really hard, Sir." The sternness evaporated and he nodded, his thumbs caressing my cheeks before he released me. "Good girl. It should be hard or you're not learning anything. Why do you think I had you eat at my feet today?" "So I'd learn to do what you say?" His eyebrow twitched. "And... I dunno." I made myself think, my cheeks flushing all over again as I thought of how embarrassed I'd been to lap orange juice from a bowl. "Because you were making me forget my pride and everything I'd learned about how I should behave and just obey you. And because you were making me feel-" I felt stuck on the words. "Like, at your feet and stuff." "Because I was making you feel what, good girl?" Why does he make me say these things aloud? But I knew why, so I took a deep breath. "You were making me feel my place, Sir. At your feet." He ran his fingers through my hair, tucking errant tufts behind my ears. "Good, little one. I'm very proud of you." He looked down at his laptop and sighed. "I'm not getting much done either, to be honest—although more because of coworkers than procrastination." He stood and put his laptop aside, motioning me to my feet. His arms wrapped around me, those big strong arms, enveloping me, drawing me close to Him for a hug I hadn't realized I so desperately needed until now. I clung to him, soaking in his strength, his assurance, his confidence in me that was so much greater than what little confidence I had in myself. I also soaked in his forgiveness for what I'd done wrong, his pride for what I'd done right, his lust, his affection, everything. The hug conveyed more than could have been said in an hour of conversation. When he finally let me go, I was a bit dizzy, but much, much better emotionally. I smiled up at him, and he beamed back down. "That's such a good girl. You're doing very well, and things will only get better." He kissed me, one hand on the back of my neck and the other wrapped around me, my arms wrapped around his neck, eyes closed as our mouths explored each other. We weren't just kissing, we were breathing in the very essence of each other. Our lips parted but our arms stayed wrapped around each other, and he planted another kiss on my forehead. "Good little toy. Didn't think getting groped on the subway would lead to this, did ya?" I felt that spark of mischief my father always said made my eyes twinkle. "Oh, you know. You never know what'll come from those." He chuckled and patted my bare ass. "All right, slut, I think it's time for a shower before I abuse you any further." He laughed as my smile turned to an excited grin. I hated going without showering, especially when I was messy. Like when I had dried cum—even dried cum from this sexy sonofabitch—on me. He sent me off with instructions to throw towels in the dryer and a smack on the ass, then headed to the shower. I was just sorry that I wouldn't get to watch him strip. Maybe next time. I grinned as I threw two clean towels in the dryer and put it on the warming cycle. Then I walked back to where a very Dominant, rather handsome, somewhat sadistic man was waiting for me in the shower.