4 comments/ 44072 views/ 6 favorites Kneeling By: lady_macbeth_4711 I am kneeling at the foot of the stairs when You come home, naked, hands behind my back, waiting for You. I wait, head down, for You to acknowledge me. You look around the house, spotlessly clean, and test the air with your sensitive nose. You can smell the dinner in the kitchen, the aroma of baking from earlier, and a sweet raspberry fragrance, Your favorite scent, rising from me. Finally, I feel the touch of Your strong hand on my head and Your voice whispers "Good girl." I smile but still do lift my head until I see Your briefcase and coat held in front of me. "Thank you, Master, " I say and slowly stand to carry both objects to the nearby closet, where the coat is hung and the briefcase stashed before I softly close the door and return to my former position on the floor, kneeling, head down, hands demurely behind me. "What is your pleasure, Master?" My eyes follow the crease in Your trousers to your knees, where my vision lingers. "When is dinner ready, My pet?" My pet! You really are happy with me today! "One hour, Master." "Perfect," You say and gently place one hand on my head. There is a moment of absolute quiet while You look around, quietly contemplating my days' accomplishments. The hand on my head moves slowly in my hair and I can feel myself growing wet at Your affection. Suddenly, Your hand twines in my hair, wrapping itself tightly and You use this leverage to bring me up from the relaxed posture I had taken. A gasp escapes from my lips. "Were you seeking a reward, pet?" You ask softly, menacingly. "No Master, I seek only to please You." "Good girl," You say, and Your hand tightens even more. "Do you think you deserve a reward, pet?" "No Master. My reward is making You happy." The pain is exciting me, as You knew it would, and I can feel the wetness dripping down my open thighs. Your voice drops a little and I hear a tiny growl. Your hand releases my hair and strokes the side of my neck. Such tenderness. My need grows worse, but I do not so much as whimper. "Do you know what day it is, Beth?" I gasp and nearly look up. You have only used that name once since I was collared. And then it was out of anger. "Yes Master." I am near tears. I had feared You had forgotten. "Well, Beth?" Again, my name, said so sweetly that I nearly cry. My voice wavers as I reply. "It is the anniversary of my collaring, Master." "Good girl." Your hand slides under my chin and You tilt my head up, although I slide my eyes away. "Look at me, Beth," You growl and my eyes meet Yours for the first time in months. "As you said, Beth, it is the one year anniversary of your collaring." The hand not holding my chin slides down to the edge of my leather collar, removed only once weekly during the past year to go to the grocery store. "And tonight," You say, looking deep into my eyes, "I consider this part of your training complete. Tonight," Your hand tilts my head down and I can feel Your hand at the back of my neck, undoing the collar. "I would like you to walk as My equal." I am staring my collar in Your hand, my neck feeling so very vulnerable, and I simply cannot believe what I just heard. I kneel before You in stupefied silence, and it becomes even more profound as your precious face appears before me. You are kneeling! I open my mouth to protest and You place a single finger over my lips to shush me, just as you did when I was first collared. "I said, this part of your training. You know your role. You are an excellent pet." Your hand drops from my lips to my hand. "But being a pet is not all you are worth. It is time you learned to be something… more." You smile and kiss my hand. Slowly, You stand, my hand still in Your grasp. "Now, Beth, as you Master, I say, stand and look me in the eye. Allow me to hold you as an equal." You help me up by my hand, and I stand on shaking legs, still reluctant to raise my face to You. You laugh softly and lean over to kiss me. Your lips meet mine and I am so terrified of doing something wrong, of displeasing You, that I can barely kiss You back. Unperturbed, you pull my trembling body close to Yours and wrap my arms around Your waist, kissing me deeper as I slowly start to respond. I can feel salty tears flowing down my cheeks. "Shh, my sweet," You whisper into my neck, and I can feel Your breath on the skin where the collar was. If I turn my head a little, I can see that discarded strip of leather on the ground. "Shh. I never said that part of our relationship was over. Things will still be the same, when we want them to be. But I have known you for a year as a pet and a slave. I want to know you now as a woman." You step back and look at me. "And this will never do," You say, and proceed to pull me up the stairs, to Your bedroom. I have to hold tight to Your hand and the railing for fear my legs will collapse. Gently, You sit me on the edge of the bed nearest the door, and sit next to me. "Are you ready for a surprise?" You ask, kissing the side of my neck again. My eyes widen. Another surprise? As if the last half an hour hadn't held more than it's share. Standing, You move to Your dresser and open the top drawer. You withdraw a green silk bra and a matching pair of panties, then move onto the next drawer, pulling out a pair of jeans and a lovely green sweater. Clothes? I break into fresh tears and throw myself at Your feet. "Master," my voice is anguished, hot tears pouring down my face, "Doesn't my body please You any more?" I have only worn clothes once a week in the past year, on those same hateful days I had to remove my collar and go out to the store. You laugh again and lean over to pick me up, standing me on my own two feet and once more stroking my face softly. Your other hand gently follows the curves of my body, relishing the smell and feel of me. "First," You say, "It is no longer Master unless I give the signal. Second," You tweak one of my already-erect nipples, "your body please Me very much, always has and always will. But you are mine, and I want to take you places. You need clothes for that, because I do not want other men's eyes on this lovely skin." One of Your hands grabs the panties off the dresser and dangles them in front of my face. "Consider them another form of collaring, if it makes it easier. Consider these clothes I bought you to be My mark and wear them with pride, as you did My collar." You kneel before me and lift each of my feet into the legs of the panties, pulling them slowly up over my soft skin to my thighs. The silk feels strange between my legs, sliding up softly against my dripping cunt. Your hand follows them up to snug them against me, Your fingers lingering teasingly and then moving on to arrange the panties on my hips. You step back to admire Your handiwork and I stand there in a state of high tension. Not only am I terrified, I am conflicted between my need to throw myself at Your feet and beg for sex and my suddenly powerful urge to walk up to You as an equal, kiss You, as an equal, and take You to bed. As an equal. But instead of giving me the time to do any of these things, You grab the bra off the dresser and come forward, lifting each of my arms into the straps and pushing the cups up tight against my breasts as You snap the bra in front. You smile serenely at me and kiss me again. "You're going to have to learn to do all this for yourself again, you know." I just nod my head dumbly. All these accoutrements used to feel right at home on me. Now they feel tighter and more restraining than I could ever imagine the collar or bonds feeling. You adjust the straps over my shoulders, smiling slyly at me. "You are so beautiful. So, so very beautiful, and so Mine." Next come the jeans, stiff fabric jarring the sensitized skin of my legs. They fit perfectly. How could You have known? But then, of course, no one knows my body like You do. You dress me like a doll, carefully and meticulously. You slide the sweater over my head and smooth it to my body, undoing a top button, so some of the cleavage shows. Then, You lead me back to the bed and set me down. Going to the bathroom, You produce a brush and move over to sit behind me on the bed, pulling me close and whispering to me about love and lust and all the stages in between while You gently brush my hair. Finally, You stand and produce a new pair of expensive flats, which You slip onto my feet. I am fully dressed for the first time in a year. Even those times at the supermarket I only wore a slip over dress and pair of cheap shoes. No bra, no panties. I feel out of place in these things. But I want so much to please You, even if this is only a whim, I will go along. I still feel the need to serve and I know that dinner must be almost done, so I request Your permission to go downstairs. I step away from the edge of the bed and move down the hall, the fabric rubbing my skin warmly, chafing softly So strange to walk down these halls, not crawl, to stand upright and wear clothes. In the downstairs and when I am cleaning up here, I can stand. When called for. But now I am standing, walking and You are following me, watching my ass sway in the new jeans, the way the sweater clings to my skin. I step uncertainly down the stairs, certain the shoes will make me fall, flat as they are. But somehow I make it down and into the kitchen, where my pot roast is perfection and the table is already set. You let me putter around the kitchen, knowing this servile task will calm my nerves, watching me move in the unfamiliar clothes. Your eyes seem more glued to me now then when I had been naked. I keep catching Your eye and turning before You can see the smile on my face. I walk over to the table with Your plate, setting it carefully down in front of You as I have always done. "Your dinner Mas-" I catch myself, and catch a look from You. It is a pleading look not like the stern ones that meant I was going to get it if I didn't obey, I was going to be punished. This is a look of need, from You, my Master! I do not know how to deal with this. Frankly, it frightens me more than the anger. I settle down to my customary place at Your feet with my plate and feel a small tug at my hair. I look up. "Beth," You give me the stern look. "Up to the table, please." I blush and stand up. I was so used to settling on the floor at Your feet, I did not even realize that I belong at the table now. There are going to be so many things to get used to again. I sit across from You and You smile at me over Your plate, Your glass of Chablis. You actually look proud of me. Peering nervously down into my plate, I hope the food will just go away, because I am too nervous to eat. I see a hand in my peripheral vision, Your hand, held out to me. Placing my own in it, I look nervously up at Your face. Your eyes soothe me, and Your voice comes out in a low rumble. "Beth, I know you cannot possibly understand what all this is about right now. Give it time, it will sink in. But for now, just understand that by finding yourself again, you are pleasing Me. That is what you want, is it not?" I smile shyly and whisper "yes, M-" and catch myself once again. The tears return. "I'm sorry, Master I just cannot bring myself to call You by the familiar name." I pull my hands away from Your s and bring them up to cover my face. I cannot look at You. Your hand touches the back of my head in the old signal of affection, and my sobbing subsides, although I still cannot move my hands from my face. Strong fingers wrap around my wrists and my hands are pulled from my face, pinned in my lap, and Your hand locks onto the back of my hair. You force my eyes to meet Yours. "Beth, you are Mine, and will always be Mine. Understand that." I try to smile through my tears. "However, now I want a woman, not a slave. You were very strong willed when you came to Me. I want you to find that strength again. If you won't do it for yourself, do it for Me. Can you do that?" " I can try." A soft smile blesses me. "Good. Now, I want you to look at Me and say My name." The hand in the back of my hair tightens, and I know I must obey, so even though this feels so much like disobedience, I look into Your eyes and say in the clearest, strongest voice I can muster, "yes, William." A beatific smile breaks across Your face and You release my hair and lean down to kiss me. Then You move back around to Your side of the table. "That wasn't so difficult, was it Beth?" You smile across the table at me again and set about finishing Your pot-roast. I sit and stare at You, at my plate, at the world from this different perspective of above the table. My mind is spinning. Does this mean freedom? Does this mean no more punishments for having my own opinion, my own wants? Does this mean that it is time for me to get to know the man across from me as another human being and not some god-like creature? You are so handsome in the candlelight, sipping Chablis, glancing up occasionally and smiling benignly. I want this. I want to be able to look into Your eyes whenever I feel the need. I want to be able to tell You whenever I feel the need how much I adore You. Does this mean that after all my work is done I can be sitting on the couch, reading a book when You get home? I have missed that so much. Is this really what You want? Is this really what I need to do to make You happy? Finally, I cannot take it anymore. I stand and walk around to Your side of the table, gently place my hands on Your shoulders. One of Your hands comes up to cover mine and I lean over to whisper in your ear "Thank you, William." "For what, Beth?" "For loving me. This is the best reward any Master could ever give." You turn in your chair to peer into my eyes. "It is the reward you deserve, Beth. And it is not only reward for you. It is reward for Me as well. For teaching you so well. I want someone I take out and show off. I want someone who is elegant and beautiful, and who I can bring home and do as I wish with." I feel a tingle in my pussy at this last. "I want someone I can talk to. I know you are intelligent. I would never have collared you otherwise, and it drove Me crazy to suppress that for the last year. But you needed to learn. You still need to learn, and you will." Your hand tightens on mine. "But I want to be able to talk to you afterwards. During. I want to be able to take you out and sit at a nice dinner and not have you afraid that you will do something to merit punishment when we return home." My hand is brought up to Your lips and You kiss the palm tenderly. A thrill races through me. "There will still be plenty of punishments, I assure you, because we both enjoy them so much. " You turn to take one more sip of Your wine and then stand to face me. "But now you will have a say in our lives." You step closer and Your hands slide up under the back of my sweater, pulling me to You. "Now," You say, looking deeply into my eyes. "Do you think you can handle being my lover as well as my pet?" I smile and lean into You, nuzzling Your neck. "Yes, William." The name falls more naturally from my lips now. "Yes, I think I can." "Good," You run Your hands a little farther up my back, to the bottom of the bra. Your hands slide under it, pressing closer into my skin. "Now that I have you fully dressed, how would you feel about getting naked again?" I lift my head off Your shoulder and smile at You, moving my hands from Your waist and grabbing the hem of my sweater, looking at You questioningly. You nod, Your eyes sparkling a little, more than happy to watch me do a strip tease, removing the clothing You had so carefully placed on my body. As step away from you and pull the sweater up over my head, I realize something wonderful. I can tease again. I can do as I wish to excite You. I do some of the moves I remembered from long ago, the bellydancer moves which had attracted You to me in the first place. The dance of the Seven Veils reenacted using a sweater and bra. You grin as Your eyes follow my lithe figure around the room. I strip from the waist up, the bra and sweater carefully placed over the back of a chair. I move up to You, smiling a sweet, beguiling smile, and lean over to kiss Your neck, placing my hands on Your chest. Dancing around You, I run my hands over Your body freely, my nails catching lightly on the cloth of Your shirt, until I am behind You, pulling You into my half naked body and wrapping my arms around You. Carefully, slowly, I begin to undo Your shirt, button after button popping free. I run my hand over the coarse hairs on Your chest, feeling so empowered. Your hand comes up and covers one of mine, dragging it down to the top of Your belt. I kiss my way around Your front, kneeling in front of You, one hand still on the buckle of Your belt. I undo it as You had undone my collar earlier. Pulling it free from the loops, I drape it over my neck, reluctant to let anything of Yours touch the floor. Then I lean over and carefully bite the top flap of your pants, pulling it out and away from Your body, causing that one last button to slip free and the zipper slides easily down. Your hands are playing in my hair, the movement of my hair and my body causing the stiff leather to rub against my chest, my nipples growing harder at the touch. My hands move up and grasp your trousers and the tops of your boxers, maneuvering both items of clothing out over your tremendously stiff cock and down your body, where they puddle around your shoes. I bend a little farther and place kisses on your calves as I untie first one shoe, then the next, removing them and your socks, your pants and your boxers. Then You are standing naked before me, naked from the waist down, I naked from the waist up, the leather of the belt still drawing lines over my breasts, catching on the rings and stiffening my nipples as I lean over and flick my pierced tongue over the head of your cock. My arms trail up to your stomach as I pull you deep into my mouth, all the way to the back of my throat. Then I feel you reach down and grab the belt, removing it from my neck and sliding it down under both my arms. The leather cuts into my skin as You force me to crawl forward on my knees, Your hot cock still buried deep in my throat. You sit in the chair nearest Your glass of wine and pull the belt from under my arms, doubling it up in Your hand. Placing this same hand lightly on my head, You gently remind me that you still have control. I can feel the leather rubbing over my shoulders, Your hand playing with strands of my hair as You quietly sit and sip Your Chablis, watching my head move up and down on You, my body shudder. I hear the glass chime on the table and see Your hand reach down toward my breasts. The first tug is gentle. They get successively harder until my whole body is shaking and I am swallowing convulsively against the head of Your cock. It grows stiffer in my mouth and begins to twitch. I pull back, gasping as my mouth is freed and You give a final tug to the ring. Then Your hand comes up and twines in my hair, the other one holding the belt bringing the leather down in a single hard strike to my jean-clad ass. I moan aloud as You clench my hair in Your fist, pulling my face up to Yours for a long, hard, deep kiss. Your mouth draws back from mine, Your hand releases my hair and You stare deep into my eyes. "Stand," You growl, "and strip for me." Smiling, I stand and turn my back to you, undoing the jeans and bending over at the waist to remove first the pants, then the panties. A growl emanates from You. "You little tease," I hear You murmur and I feel You grab my hips and pull me back to You. Roughly turning me, You open Your legs and pull me between them, so my breasts are right before Your face. "Do you like to tease, Beth?" That same growl that always sends shivers through me and makes me want to cum, just hearing it. Kneeling "Yes, William, I do." Smiling a Draconian smile, You lean forward and take my nipple ring between Your teeth. "Good girl," You say, the words nearly lost under my groans. "So do I." You pull the ring farther into Your mouth, metal clicking against Your teeth, and one hand traces a path up my thigh, grabbing a lock of my already soaked pubic hair and twisting it. My hands fall to Your shoulders and I attempt to support myself with my arms, as my legs nearly give out. "Straddle me," You rumble. "But do not pull me inside you. Balance in between my knees." I slip one leg up and over Your thigh, then the other, then settle so I am precariously balanced between Your still-open thighs. "Very good, pet. Now," You smile softly at me and bring the hand holding the leather between my thighs, brushing the edge against my clit and then pulling back. I tremble and my fingers clench Your shoulders a little tighter. "Do you fully understand what I desire of you?" Your other hand comes down between my legs as well, assuring pleasure if I please You, the leather promising punishment if I should fail. "I believe so," a tiny grin flashes across my lips, "Master William." "Good girl." Your grin matches my own and the hand not holding the leather flashes out, tugging lightly on my exposed clit and running one finger over my labia before withdrawing again. "Very good." My thighs tighten against Yours as my entire body lights up like a string of Christmas lights. You wait for the tension to subside before continuing. "Master William." You murmur to Yourself. "Good, I like that." You beam at me. "When we are in private, or whenever I give you the signal, you will call me Master William. Understood, pet?" "Yes," again the flickering grin I cannot help, "Master William." The teasing finger strikes my clit again, and sinks a bit father into the wet regions below before withdrawing again. I scream with need, my body burning, every nerve ablaze, just one more touch and I will cum. You trail the leather over the inside of my thigh. "Explain to Me what you think I want, Beth." "Master William, I believe you want a lady in the streets and a loving servile pet between the sheets." You laugh and lean over to kiss my neck, You fingers tugging lightly at my pubic hair. "Yes, pet. I like the way you put that. Unless?" "Unless told otherwise, as always, Master William." One more tug to the pubic hair, then two fingers are suddenly thrust deep inside me, and the hard edge of the leather is scraping over my clit. I instantly come to a screaming orgasm, thanking You aloud, my hips pumping against Your hand, against the leather of Your belt. You continue to finger me, feeling my muscles milk You, moving the belt and replacing it with Your thumb. I continue to come, each orgasm building on the last, but I hear a quiet "shh" from You, so I attempt to be as silent as possible, attempt to slow my movements and calm myself. "Who do you love, pet?" I hear in a haze. "You, Master William," I gasp, trying desperately to still my hips and my heart, succeeding at neither. "Very good, Beth. Who do you belong to?" "You, Master William." "And for how long, Beth?" "Forever, Master William. I belong to You, body and soul, always." "Very good, pet. You please Me very much." You withdraw Your fingers from me, soaked and dripping with my cum, and bring them up to my mouth, where You run them first over my lips, then into my mouth, allowing me to suck my taste off of Your fingers, allowing me to taste the lust You have inspired in me. My body pulses with want, sucking my flavor off your fingers, the smell and taste of my juices pushing me higher. Finally, Your fingers withdraw from my mouth, my lips moist and parted as the ones below, requiring more fulfillment. "What do you want, pet?" You ask, smiling gently at me. "This is your night. What do you want?" "I want You, Master William. Deep inside me. I want to feel You cum inside me." A smile and then You have two fingers buried deep inside me, the rest of Your hand supporting my ass, the other arm wrapped securely under my arms. You pick me up this way and carry me into the living room, set me down on my feet in front of the window, and turn me to face it. I stand for as long as it takes out to pull the drapes open, then I fall against the cold glass. My nipple rings make a clinking sound against the glass as the pane begins vibrating in response to my body's movement. I place both hands above me on the pane and stare out at the icy world beyond. Cars pass, none close enough to easily see what we are doing, but if they tried, the sight would most likely cause a crash. You kick my legs apart from behind, and pull my hips into yours. You are hard against my ass, sliding up and down the crack, slowly maneuvering down, so your cock slides between my legs, rubbing my clit, saturating yourself with my lubricants. Then you pull away, and a small sob escapes my lips. "Be quiet, now," I hear You say and see your reflection retreating toward the closet. I focus on the white ground outside the window, the achingly cold glass against my nipples, my arms, and hear the sound of your briefcase snapping open and then closed again, the closet door banging shut. Your reflection comes up behind me once again, barely seen out of peripheral vision. You are carrying something, I can't tell what, But I think I know and I gasp, the shudders starting afresh. I hear a slight buzzing sound. I moan and squirm against the glass. "You said you wanted me deep inside you, Beth." The vibrator runs down my stomach. "But where?" I am gasping so hard I can barely answer. All that comes out is a scarcely coherent "Oh, Master William." I feel your fingers enter me again, pulling fluid out and running it up the crack of my ass, rubbing it deep and hard into my anus, letting a finger slip barely inside. "Here," you say and the finger slips a little father in, my hips thrusting back. "If you don't say any different, pet, I'm going to think you want me here." I just moan and squirm against your fingers, and suddenly that finger is buried deep inside my ass. Your other hand brings the vibrator up into my line of sight. "Good choice, pet." You laugh as I gasp in horrified fascination. The new toy is nearly a foot long, and at least three inches around. You take it out of my vision, running it down my stomach, over my open labia, the vibrating motion making me writhe against the cold glass. "You going to take it, pet?" You ask, sliding the head of the monstrosity up against my clit then back down, getting it soaked in cum. I cannot speak, just moan and move my hips against it and against your hand. I am so absolutely overwhelmed, even at the thought. You move the vibrator so it is at the perfect angle, then begin moving the head against me, pushing it in a little and drawing it back out, slowly stretching me around it. I feel like I am being torn in two, it hurts, and the pain builds on itself, until it passes pain and I am flying, pumping my hips down onto this huge thing, trying to pull it deeper. I feel you kiss and bite the back of my neck, your cock pulsing against my back, and I feel you with draw your finger, leaving me feeling empty, then the head is right there, pushing slowly in, bringing the pain back, it always hurts so much on the first couple of thrusts. I love it, though, and I cant wait to feel totally filled, You in the back, this monstrosity up front, tearing me apart and making me whole. You move in and out of my ass, pumping harder and faster, first alternating the thrusts with the vibrator, then bringing it together, so I can feel both, deep inside me, at the same time. One of Your arms is wrapped tight around my ribcage, holding me as still as possible, my screams making you hotter as Your other hand pumps the vibrator in and out. I have never felt so full, never cum so hard. The orgasms just roll over each other, building on the base of pain, of pleasure, making me scream Your name over and over. My nipples clank against the glass as you move the hand from my ribs down to the end of the vibrator, and bring the hand dripping with my taste up to my mouth, so I can suck on it. Totally filled, stuffed with lust, you might say, and my tongue bar running in circles over your hand, over your fingers, my moans sending shivers up your arms. I can feel Your body clenching, feel you twitching inside of me, getting ready to cum hard and fast, and my own body tenses for one final grand orgasm. The glass shudders, my breath fogging the cold surface, my whole body feeling about to explode. I feel you erupt inside of me and I nearly lose consciousness, the electricity flying off my body in bolts. My legs give and I am held suspended between the glass and your still-thrusting body. My mind is gone, lost in a distant place. I have never ever cum so hard. You out of me, and pull the vibrator at the same time, dropping it to the floor at our feet as you turn me around, sweeping me off my feet and carry me towards the stairs. I would never make it on my own. Up the stairs, and then you are laying me gently on the bed, kissing my face, running your hands over my hair, so, so gently, and I just moan softly, loving Your touch, Your kisses, Your sweet face above mine. I am so happy right now, so fulfilled. All your caresses are gentle, your voice sweet and low as You say my name over and over, telling me how wonderful I am, how perfect, how Yours I am. Your lips trail down to my breasts, where you gently kiss and lick the tender buds of my nipples, my moaning increasing again, and You move even farther, running your lips over my belly, to the sore place between my legs, where your tongue gently laps at my clit, easing the ache, running carefully over the stretched lips of my labia. It is sweet bliss to be carefully cleaned like this by you. My mind starts to drift, and you finish your task, moving back up the bed to wrap your arms around me. I murmur "Master William?" "Yes?" I hear your voice, your breath stirs my hair. "I love you, William." You sigh and snuggle into my neck, your arms pulling me closer as I turn on my side to get closer to you, pressing my breasts against your chest. " I love you too, Elizabeth., You are mine. Forever." I smile and drift away, tangled up in You, feeling your love like a collar on my heart. Kneeling Dear Lisa, Although we have never met, I already feel a bond with you! All I know is what my Master told me: that you and your husband (whose name I don't know, but let me call him David) are starting to feel your way into a power transfer relationship in which he would be dominant and you submissive. That is where Master and I were six years ago. Master thought it might be useful if I sent you some of my memories and reflections about our taking that path. I hope David mentioned this to you--a letter like this would seem awfully presumptuous coming out of the blue! Since I don't know you or David and don't want to make any assumptions, I can offer you only an account of our journey, Master's and mine. Master has given me permission to share anything at all with you, specifically including anything unflattering about Him that I might feel is part of our story. He will not read this letter. Unless you choose to share it with David, which you are perfectly free to do, it will remain between you and me. You need not worry about replying. I'm writing this in happy obedience to my Master, but also because it would delight me if there is anything in it that helps you find your own destiny. I have no desire to convince you to do or not to do anything. I want only to be honest about my own experience. Well, then, when Master and I married ten years ago we were in our mid-twenties and had little idea what we were doing. Neither of us had even seriously dated anybody else. Master was a virgin. I was not, but I wasn't very experienced, either. (All I had learned was that sex appeared to be overrated.) Both of us came from parents who divorced when we were young, so we had little in the way of example to guide us in a stable relationship. And both of us were emotionally immature. Each assumed that the other could read minds, would know how to produce happiness, and would unfailingly do so, and we became frustrated and resentful when all that magic wasn't forthcoming. The first year went passably, but finished with a disturbingly tentative feel. I wondered if I was really in love at all, because living and sleeping full time with a man--a man I admired immensely--was not proving emotionally all that satisfying. He was always thoughtful and courteous, not controlling, perfectly willing to do his share and more, but He seemed to have slowly distanced Himself from me. He was more agreeable than thrilling. (In fact, at that time I really had no idea what being thrilled felt like.) I was beginning to feel angry because I missed . . . I didn't know what, and sometimes had the most awful feeling that I had made a mistake in marrying Him. It wasn't long before I wasn't keeping these feelings hidden. I doubt you would find it useful to hear the details of the next stage of our marriage--I hope you and David aren't starting from the same place we did! It's enough to say that my insecurity and snippiness pushed His buttons, He became resentful and would turn His back on me, and that made me even more insecure and nasty. We started exploding into arguments over the most trivial things. I'd take something He said or did as slighting, and felt that if I didn't hit back I'd be submerged as a person. Now I recognize that as a kind of lost-little-girl panic, but then I was self-righteous in my defensiveness. In the end we'd always manage to smooth it over somehow, but that never lasted, and then it was back to the same old power struggle. This went on for three years, sometimes better, sometimes so bad we talked about divorce. Those conversations were sad! Frustrated and angry as I was, my heart almost broke when I thought about losing Him. There was something in Him I wanted so much, but I didn't know what it was. And I blamed Him for not knowing, either. Then, one day, I hadn't answered my phone for several hours because I was with girlfriends, and then busy running errands. When He asked about it, I said, "Am I on probation here?" And we were off. That was a particularly drawn-out wrangle, night had fallen and there we were still standing in the kitchen, arguing, and I felt so worn down, so discouraged. Finally, just hoping the argument would end, so I said, "I'm sorry I didn't answer the phone. I'm sorry I snapped at you. Now can we just forget it?" Master (of course I didn't call Him that then) was silent for several moments. Then He said, "No, I won't accept your apology. You always apologize, but your touchiness never changes. You think you can say anything, no matter how hurtful, and then expect me to forget all about it. I want an end to this, or else to our marriage." I just wanted so badly to go to sleep (which is how I dealt with anything upsetting in those days). I said, with more than a bit of a sneer, "What do I have to do, kneel to you or something?" There was a pause. Then He said, emphatically, "Yes. Kneel to me and apologize, and maybe I'll believe you're sorry." Master has since told me this was completely a gut reaction. He had never before even thought about my kneeling to Him. And He certainly didn't think I was going to comply. His demand should have made me more furious and more hopeless. That's what any demand from Him usually did. But now I just gazed at Him in silence. My mind in another, unfamiliar, place. I felt like everything in me had suddenly flipped upside down. I really was completely exhausted, not just by this argument but by the whole three years of them. I had reached my limit. He was right, it had to stop. I would do whatever I had to to stop it. I had never thought about kneeling to Him, either, but for some mysterious reason at that moment it seemed not only possible but attractive. I looked right into His eyes for several seconds. He looked back steadily. Then he said softly, "Do it, Connie." As if in a dream, I knelt down on the kitchen floor, bowed my head, and said, "I'm truly, truly sorry for how I treat you. Please help me change." My anger was gone. A wave of relief crashed over me. Whatever happened now was out of my hands. That was the beginning. The key thing on His part was suddenly daring to demand control, because He realized that if He didn't, the marriage was over anyway. The key thing on my part was the sudden perception that His strength was not my enemy but could be my my friend and protector. That I could share His strength by giving way to it. It would then become our strength. That is the whole charter for my submission, which has become steadily more satisfying over the years. Of course, things didn't fall into place automatically. Neither of us had any exposure to the world of personal power transfer--we didn't even know there was a name for it besides "sadomasochism." I wanted desperately to keep what I had felt as I knelt before Master, so the next day I told Him I wanted to kneel often, that I wanted Him to require it. He was clearly pleased but rather incredulous. It took Him a matter of months, I think, to fully accept that my desire to submit was something He could rely on. For me, there was never any doubt after that first time: it felt like a door suddenly opening, where I hadn't even realized there was a door. But I realized I couldn't rush Him. Master is strong, but He's also cautious. He didn't want to jump into a whole new way of living together all at once. He didn't have any trouble asserting Himself in bed (on the contrary, that was the part He got immediately). But He was put off by too many formalities in the transactions of daily life. And He worried about hurting me. (Emotionally, I mean--physical punishments were not yet on the table in those days.) I couldn't blame Him; I remembered how snotty I was. But I longed to convince Him that the best way for me to change was to plunge into serving Him with all my heart--that the more He demanded, the better I'd like it. I knew I had to keep myself on offer, so to speak, but remain humble and accept whatever He was comfortable with. It had to be worked out slowly, day by day, case by case. The first year was sometimes discouraging. But the arguing stopped and the sex got exciting; we were obviously doing something right. Naturally, we did internet research. That was eye-widening. There is a lot of silliness, crudity and plain stupidity out there marketing itself as "BDSM." Most of it is just fantasy material for horny boys and lonely girls. Some of the personal blogs, though, are quite helpful (I can give you a list if you like). They offer intelligent observations about how the sex is just part of the knowing yourself, and the knowing yourself is just part of something much bigger--your life and the life of your partner. Discovering submission can be life-transforming (it certainly was for us), but it doesn't, and shouldn't, displace all the other things in your life, which remain just as valuable as they ever were. (And if you don't have those other things, submission alone isn't going to compensate for them.) On the contrary, improving your relationship (and, in my case, personality) should make all that other stuff work better than it did before. That's a pretty good check on how well you're doing as a submissive (or as a dominant): is it making all the non-D/s stuff in your life better? You may notice I haven't used the word "slave." That's because Master and I don't like it. Slavery is evil; human beings always must be treated as ends, not means. And pretend slavery is just that, a pretense. I prefer to be called a submissive, because I choose to submit to Master for my own growth and fulfillment. (And nothing fulfills me as much as knowing I've made Him happy.) And my submission, while extensive, isn't total. Not only do I have so-called hard limits, but I have the right (and the duty) to be honest with Him about whatever in our relationship isn't working for me. I call Him Master not because He "owns" me, but because we agree it's better if I don't address Him casually. I capitalize pronouns referring to Him because it pleases me, not because He expects it. We aren't into toys, costumes, or acrobatic sexual stunts. All the important stuff happens inside us, and that's what we concentrate on. We have enough ritual to keep our understanding always in plain view. Every morning, I kneel and ask Him to be my Master for another day. He reaffirms His love and His responsibility for me. Sometimes, He rests His hands gently on my head and we meditate for a few minutes about what we have. Those are the sweetest moments! Every evening, He sits in his favorite chair and I kneel-sit in front of Him, put my hands on His knees, and bow my head. He lifts up my chin and asks me what I'm thinking. Then I go through my day, telling Him what I feel I have done well and where I have failed, what I enjoyed and what worried me. He expects me to confess any disobedience and to be honest about any negative feelings about Him, myself, or our relationship. (He is also candid with me about what He sees as His own mistakes.) If something needs to be talked about, we talk about it--but always in the context of me trusting implicitly in my Master's wisdom and kindness. So far, He's never let me down. I don't agree with every decision He makes, but He makes them for our common good, and He proves to be right most of the time. He always keeps His promise to take my concerns seriously and to put my welfare above everything else. Master has rules for me, but they're mostly practical ones, intended to keep our lives moving on an even keel. There is punishment if I break rules, but punishment isn't a big part of the relationship, and by mutual agreement it's not heavily physical. Most commonly, I'm denied something I enjoy, given an extra chore or workout, or made to stand in the corner. For something more serious I might be tied into a "humiliation position" and left in the shed to think it over for a few hours. Once He made me stay naked on all fours for a whole day--try eating and drinking without using your hands or peeing into a plastic dishpan on all fours! Maximum punishment is spanking with a bath brush, which hurts like hell so I try like hell to avoid it; it's only happened a few times. Punishments have their own ritual, which requires me to acknowledge my fault and thank Him for correcting me. Master wants a clear distinction between punishment and play, so there's no point my getting aroused by punishment, even though I often am. Sometimes I can tell He is, too, but He is rigid (heh) about punishment not being followed by sex. That said, some spanking and bondage are definitely part of our intimacy. I love being put over His knee and hand-spanked. I love having to hold my hands behind my back while He enjoys my mouth. I love it when He presses my face into the sheets (or the grass!) and mounts me from behind, holding my wrists in His powerful hands. Most of all, I love it when He decides to take me without a word--in the kitchen, on a walk, in the middle of the night. I am wet in two seconds when He does that. As you can probably tell, I don't any longer think sex is overrated. But sex isn't the most important thing for us, not by a long shot. Clarity is. Until you've lived in both an emotionally chaotic relationship and an emotionally intense but orderly one, you can't really appreciate the difference. It's not that Master and I have all our questions answered, or don't have our ups and downs. I'm still an insecure person, and He still sometimes drifts off into His own preoccupations. Things get in the way, all the time. But now our relationship has a definite structure: channels of communication, roles, expectations, and consequences. We have something to work with, to put effort into. If something goes badly, or just doesn't feel right, we both know how to address it, and reassure and reward one another for having the courage to bring it up. I can't enjoy the centeredness I feel every day without remembering that I get it from accepting His control and trying my best to please Him. That's why every little thing that requires me to submit reassures me. He says my submission is the gift that makes Him feel strong whenever He looks me. These insights are our compass; we always return to them. And we never, ever skip our morning and evening rituals. Even when we're apart, we do them by Skype, phone, or as a last resort, texting (and, yes, I kneel when I'm texting Him). Kneeling is how it started, and kneeling is what brings me peace now. When I'm kneeling, even in punishment, my heart always swells with pride because I'm doing it for Him, and then everything is OK. I'd like to close this way, Lisa: one of the biggest satisfactions of being a submissive is getting to know other subs and sharing stories. It's hard to convey the wonderful feelings of sisterhood that brings. I will dream that someday you and I will meet and share those stories and those feelings. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for allowing me to offer you my story. I pray that it gives you at least a little light on this new adventure. Connie Chatterly Kneeling, Worshiping... I used to think, when I heard the word; kneel, of Kings, of Royalty, of token respect for over rated blood lines. I used to think, when I thought of worshiping, of the agonising, patronising words of the Church, of sins being repented, of asking forgiveness for something that will be done again, with no guilt, just done again... that was until I met You… I’m on my knees for the first time in my life. I’m offering, giving, handing myself to You. My head is raised, looking, staring intently into Your eyes. My legs are shaking, my heart is pounding, and my mind is lost in the darkening noisy silence ringing in my ears. My eyes are watering from the emotion that is soaring, rocketing around inside me on this my first true submission. I’m offering You, me; to do with as You see fit, to love, to honour, and to obey You in all things. I’m well versed by now in the demands that You will make of me. I kneel here before You with my eyes wide open and my heart pounding, it’s the longest, slowest decent I can ever recall having. I feel the floor and its chill on my knee caps and I savour the feeling, I glory that I can make contact with the floor and know that I want to be here in Your shadow as You look down upon me. I adjust slightly so my knees aren’t digging into the floor; I’m prepared to be here a long while, as long as You want me here. I rock back a little to look further into Your eyes, to see You, to see me reflected in them, to know that this is me now, a reflection of You. Your hand raises gently, slowly as if not to startle me, Your palm is face down, Your fingers curled. I watch Your hand as it lowers closer to my forehead. The tips of Your nails rest on me there. A tingle is felt and flows through me at Your touch. My head starts to bow as I feel the heat in Your merest of touches. My breath stills as I feel Your warmth coarse through me. I’m breathless, my mouth dry, the importance of this moment etched in my mind forever more. Water drips from my eyes, splashing and marking the floor in front of me. I didn’t think it would be or I would be, as emotional as I am right now. Its not regret, its not fear that shed’s these tears, it’s a feeling so overwhelming that I cant help but to cry, a feeling of belonging, a feeling of finally making it home. This moment is to big, too life changing for me to not shed a few tears. Your hand rests still. Your arm not shaking, showing me Your confidence. I lower my head further just to feel more of You, more of Your curled fingers on my face. The backs of Your fingers now resting on my hair as I tilt my head ever so slightly. Your hand turns with my head and I roll my cheek to Your almost opened palm. I breathe harder as I start to fall into Your warmth into the need to feel more of You. The truth, about really belonging here, here at Your feet, in your service, pours through me, roars through me, enlightens me, makes me whole, takes me home… Your hand and my face continues to dance with each other, creating a bond, an invisible tangible tread, that draws me closer and pulls me further under Your spell.. Its weakening, strengthening, power fills me with the need to please You more.. I feel orgasmic as Your finger rests beneath my chin; my muscles lax as you tilt my head back up.. My eyes are closed yet opened, my lids they feel paper thin, I can see You through them, see Your dark form inside the colour dizzying me, spinning me, twirling me, creating me, giving birth to a new me, a new me that’s embracing my life of servitude to You. I open my eyes slowly savouring the glow of happiness as I feel it rush from my toes spreading its way up my body to the very ends of my hair. The tips of my toes, the tips of my fingers, the lips of my cunt, the hard puckered buds of my nipples, the end of my tongue, the hair on my ears, every ending on my body feels the happiness, that my eyes, with all honesty, when wide open show You. Your softly spoken words draw my gaze to your lips, lips that can be so full of praise, of love, of compassion, of unwavering strength of will. The harsh realities of Your teachings, of my learning’s, are like a balm soothing me, luring me, focusing me, pulling me closer to You in body, mind and soul as I sway ever closer to You. “You will also learn to worship today, my pet” is all You say as Your robe falls open and away from You and I look upon for the first time, at an even level, at Your magnificent cock. I stare intently looking up at You from the underside of Your prick, the marble hard length of You stretching reaching out to me, luring me further, pulling me closer, making my mouth water then dry in anticipation. The moment I have waited and wanted and hungered for, the need that had built with in me for so long was finally here, the need to worship You with my mouth, the need to feast on the hand that feeds me… I look beyond Your prick to Your eyes and I humbly whisper. “Thank You Sir”. You acknowledge with a slight inclination of Your head. I lean in and tilt my head to the side. My nose is tickled by the thick matt of hair covering the sack that helps to feed Your pleasure. My cheek glides slowly savouring the feel of Your skin on my face mesmerized by the shape, the size, and the width of it. My cheek slowly travels the length of the only part of You that You are offering me. I breathe in deeply through my nose, inhaling Your heavy musky scent, etching it in my mind and senses. I tilt my head again and Your cock rests on my chin as my warmed blood filled lips tingle in anticipation. My breath quickens and exhales over Your blood-engorged head and across Your singular eye. My bottom lip catches on the rim as my upper lip travels over Your smooth head. The inside of my lip is moistened by the drop of liquid sitting there waiting for me, I lick with my tongue and swirl Your taste in my mouth like a fine wine, savouring and accepting my first taste of You.. My lips join and meet, they place a kiss, a whispered thanks to You for allowing me this honour, on the tip, the very tip of You, I breath across you.. “Oooohhhh Thank You Sir, ” before my tongue swirls around You, my lips delight in the wetness Your taste creates in my mouth.. My lips start to open and feel more of You inside me, as my mouth closes, my teeth gently carefully scrape over the smoothest part of You. I open again and feel the rim of your cock resting inside my lips.. I push with my tongue, Your cock into my cheek, my teeth graze on the side of Your shaft while the head rests in the soft inner tissue of my mouth… I voluntarily place my hands behind my back, fisting them together, my own personal bonds holding me, restraining me from my own urges to touch You further.. Wanting only to do this with the contact of teeth, lips, tongue and heart. I slide You back to the edge of my lips, never for a second breaking contact with Your cock; I slowly take more of You inside me.. Millimetre by millimetre I taste, I feel, I attack, I retreat, I delight in the learning of Your cock. Each slide, each withdrawal takes me further away from You as a person and deeper into fucking You, worshiping You, with my mouth.. I was so entranced by what I was doing I didn’t think, I relaxed and just let everything I was feeling with You take me over. Soon before I knew it, I could feel, for the first time in my life, a cock, Your cock, in the back of my throat.. There was no gagging, no thinking, just reacting, letting my body do as Your will was permitting me to, it was permitting me to fall deeper and further away from my thoughts my concerns. I was focused now so focused on You and Your pleasure, that the fact that my cunt was throbbing and juice was dripping down the insides of my thighs, meant nothing to me. Your pleasure was all that truly mattered… I was so open, so receptive; so totally engrossed in what I was doing that at first I didn’t realize You were holding my head, by the hair. My face was forced, held still on Your cock, my nose crushed into Your stomach, all of Your cock shoved in my throat, tears were streaming out of my eyes but I was paralysed by the fear of gagging and offending You. So I closed my eyes and thought that this is where I belonged, where I felt I needed to be, and it was right here. Again I started to relax and lose myself in You.. You came hard Sir, in my throat and my only regret was that I couldn’t taste all of what You had so richly given me before it washed into my stomach settling there feeding me, rejuvenating me, so generously giving me the life that I needed to live… According to the Oxford Dictionary the word ‘kneel’ is described as... to get into a position on your knees. The word ‘worship’ is described as a verb… to give praise to God or a God. As a noun it is described as... worshiping: religious ceremonies or services. I was always taught that a word or a phrase could have a thousand meanings, for me I just found a deeper meaning for both of them.