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Laura: Initiation of a Submissive Ch. 01

By: Sir_Winston54



Laura walked hesitantly into the restaurant, searching for the face she knew only from an Internet picture. She finally spotted him in a banquette across the room, and began walking slowly toward him. She felt as nervous as an understudy suddenly called upon to take the lead role in a play. Butterflies - no, eagles - turned somersaults in her stomach. While she wanted everything they had talked about in chatrooms the past weeks, she was completely inexperienced, and frightened both of the desires that flooded her frame every time they talked, and of not ever getting a chance to have those desires fulfilled.

As she neared his table, he held up his left hand in a clear gesture to stop when she was about two steps away. His right hand held a glass of iced water, and he sipped from it as his left hand motioned her to turn around in a complete circle. She turned slowly, presenting him with a complete picture of her, but as she completed her turn, he repeated his silent command, but faster. Her eyes widened - she was wearing a rather short dress of clingy material, with nothing underneath, as he had instructed her. If she spun quickly around, as he was ordering her to do, the skirt would billow up, quite possibly exposing her bare lower body to anyone close enough to see. 

His eyes narrowed slightly as he noted her tiny hesitation, and that was enough to compel her to make a quick complete turn, no matter who might see what. As she had feared, the skirt did flare up, and just before she finished turning, she saw a man at a nearby table staring directly at her - or rather, at what was revealed of her lovely body. As she stopped, the skirt swirled around her upper thighs, and from the corners of her eyes, she saw more men's heads turn toward her. 

He motioned her forward to the booth, a three-quarters circle, and she slid onto the banquette seat and around toward him. As she neared him, he leaned to her and kissed her softly on the cheek with a smile on his face. Speaking very quietly, so that even someone standing at the other side of the table would not have heard him, he said, "Lift your bottom, my dear. I will pull your skirt back so that you are bare to the seat." She blushed, but quickly did his bidding. When she felt the cool air caress her bottom for the second time in less than a minute, she blushed even more furiously, but sat down on the rough but strangely comforting fabric covering the bench. 

"G-good evening, Sir," she stuttered. "I'm so happy we have finally been able to meet." 

"We met long ago, Little One - in a life before this one. This is a reunion," he said softly. He reached to her left shoulder with his right hand to turn her toward him as he leaned forward and kissed her deeply. His left hand, hidden from all others in the busy restaurant, moved directly to her right breast, found her nipple - which was already standing firm and tingling - and pinched it hard. An almost-electric shock lit from her nipple, through her breast, down her stomach and burst into explosive heat in her center.

His hand dropped from her breast as his lips left hers and he leaned back to his original position to pick his water back up. Her eyes were unable to leave his as he sipped, and she knew three things for sure - her face was flaming red, her nipples were now as hard as they had ever been, and her ... cunt - yes, she could say it, at least in the privacy of her thoughts - her cunt was as wet as if she were ready to make love. She could even feel it seeping toward her tiny anus, and knew that when they left the restaurant, the next person to sit in her seat would find it very, very wet indeed.

"Slide just a little closer to me, Little One. I want to have you close," he said... "for whatever I choose to do." She trembled, both inside and out, but moved immediately to his command. When her thigh touched his, she stopped moving toward him and looked at him with a question in her eyes. "That's perfect. You needn't be in my lap. In fact, having you sitting in my lap might inhibit my whims." He smiled wickedly at her, and somehow the heat in her loins spread further than she could ever remember it without having an orgasm.

Their waiter came to the table and looked a question at him, and he responded with a smile. "Yes, Jason, we're ready to order. My little one here will have ..." and he looked into her eyes, knowing she had never been to this restaurant, nor had a chance to look at the menu, "the Sole Florentine with rice pilaf, a light house salad with oil and vinegar, and a bottle of this excellent vintage of water." Jason smiled at this little jest, and waited. "I will have the eight-ounce filet, medium rare, baked potato with sour cream, chives and bacon, house salad with Italian dressing, and another bottle of water." 

"Yes, sir. Your salads will be out momentarily, sir." The waiter sketched a mock salute that still had a large measure of respect in it, and departed for the kitchen.

"Without looking directly at him, my dear, look straight out across the table from you at the gentleman in the grey pinstripe suit - the one who looks like a junior banker. He's been staring at you since you walked in the door. Do you know him?"

She turned her head slightly, and got a good look at the man in question. "No, sir, I don't believe I've ever seen him before in my life."

"Good. Would you like to give him dessert before his entree even arrives?" She looked at him with a clear question in her eyes, but answered unequivocally.

"If you wish it, Sir, I will do it. Just tell me what you want."

He smiled, and there was no wickedness to it, but a softness in his eyes that she had not seen before. "Very well. Do not move until I tell you to 'pose,' but do so immediately when I do. Staying in the same position you currently occupy, open your legs wide, so there is at least sixteen inches between your knees." Her hand trembled slightly and she laid it on the table to conceal her lack of control, knowing that he had noted it, and seeing from his eyes that it both amused and pleased him. He continued speaking to her, his eyes locked on hers. "After you open your legs, count slowly to three, and then turn your head to look directly at him. When he finally looks up from your pussy, smile at him, lift a finger in a tiny wave, and then slowly bring your thighs back together into a 'modest' position. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Sir. I understand, and I will obey." 

He smiled. "Pose."

She moved her legs, opening them wide, knowing that the short skirt she had on could and would hide absolutely nothing from the stranger's eyes. Slowly, almost under her breath, she counted. "One ... two ... three." On the count of three, she turned her head to look at the man in the grey suit. Silently, she kept counting. "Four ... five ... six ... seven ... eight ... nine." At nine, his eyes rose to her face, and she smiled at him, noting that he blushed as quickly and furiously as she had when she whirled in front of the banquette. Her right index finger rose and waggled at the man as she casually brought her knees back together.

Turning her head back to its previous position, she looked at him and smiled. "Was I correct, Sir?"

"You did very well, Little One. Did he seem to appreciate your show?"

"Yes, Sir. But he seemed embarrassed at being caught looking. He blushed." 

"Do you realize that you did not blush?" he asked, smiling. "Not the least bit. You seem to have felt perfectly comfortable offering your cunt to view."

Now, she blushed. It wasn't at what she had done, but at hearing that word in a restaurant like this. She was saved from having to answer for a moment, as their waiter reappeared with their waters and salads. "Bon appetit, sir and mademoiselle," he smiled, and was answered with their smiles.

When he left, she looked back into her companion's eyes. "Since you mention it, yes - I do realize I didn't blush. I think it was because it was what you wanted, and I didn't worry about it, because it was your will."

It was his turn now for slightly widened eyes. Then he smiled. "You have found your soul, Little One. You began seeking, not knowing what you wanted, and somehow found your way right to the destination you needed."

"Thank you, Sir. I sensed that this was right for me - you were right for me - almost the first time we talked. I blushed before, because I still had doubts, but somehow, when you ordered me to do that, all my doubts disappeared." 

"You may gain new doubts now and then, my pet, but if you hold onto the core of what you have learned about yourself already this evening, you will overcome them and grow even further."

"I know I will, Sir, with your help and guidance. In fact... when I came in here, I would never have believed that I could do what I just did. But after only a few minutes with you, I felt perfectly natural and safe doing it, and I enjoyed it, knowing that it would please you. And I would never have believed that I could say to you - or anyone - what I'm about to say. I am sopping wet. My pussy has drenched me, and my thighs, and the seat beneath me. I don't think I've ever been this wet in my life." She looked into his eyes and smiled, completely trusting, knowing that she was pleasing him again.

"Lift your bottom, my dear," he said softly, and as she instantly did so, he slipped his right hand behind her back and down under her as she lowered herself. His fingers sought and found her sex, and one opened her lips even further. "Do you want to cum now, Little One? Or would you rather wait a little while, and let the anticipation grow?"

Her eyes were as wide as they could get as he rubbed her labia, briefly flicking a fingertip across her protruding clit. She almost choked as she answered him, "I would love to cum now, Sir, but ... I feel you would rather I wait, so I will." He smiled and kept lightly stroking her. "But, Sir... if you keep doing that, I won't have any choice in the matter. I'll cum even though I don't want to."

His eyes regained that wicked gleam that so frightened, entranced and excited her. "Will you cum even though I don't want you to?" His fingers stopped their movement, but remained cupped around her wet, heated center.

Laura stuttered and tried to regain some composure. She blushed, and looked briefly away, then visibly gathered her will and looked back into his eyes. "If you tell me not to cum, I will try my best not to. I don't know that I can hold back if you keep touching me, but I will do my best." 

Her earnestness and strength touched him and he told her to lift herself again, and took his hand away. "That was what I needed to hear, my pet. I'll give you release later, several times. And in time, we'll work on you not having orgasms until you're permitted."

Laura shuddered, but didn't quite cum. His words alone had almost triggered an orgasm, but she fought against it and won. He saw her tremble, and knew the effect he had had on her, and grinned. "Good girl," he said softly. "You have the right attitude, and the strength, to be a good submissive. And that's what we'll work on this weekend. We have this night, and Friday, Saturday and Sunday. By Sunday evening, when you go home, you'll have learned more than you would have thought possible."

End, Chapter 1

Laura: Initiation of a Submissive Ch. 02



Chapter 1 ended with these paragraphs:

Laura stuttered and tried to regain some composure. She blushed, and looked briefly away, then visibly gathered her will and looked back into his eyes. "If you tell me not to cum, I will try my best not to. I don't know that I can hold back if you keep touching me, but I will do my best." 

Her earnestness and strength touched him and he told her to lift herself again, and took his hand away. "That was what I needed to hear, my pet. I'll give you release later, several times. And in time, we'll work on you not having orgasms until you're permitted."

Laura shuddered, but didn't quite cum. His words alone had almost triggered an orgasm, but she fought against it and won. He saw her tremble, and knew the effect he had had on her, and grinned. "Good girl," he said softly. "You have the right attitude, and the strength, to be a good submissive. And that's what we'll work on this weekend. We have this night, and Friday, Saturday and Sunday. By Sunday evening, when you go home, you'll have learned more than you would have thought possible."

Now, on to Laura: Initiation of a Submissive Chapter 2...

Laura felt relief as she saw Jason, their waiter, coming toward the table with a large tray. He set it on a holder near their banquette, and swiftly removed their salads. "For you, mademoiselle, the Sole Florentine with rice pilaf - would you like another water, or perhaps a carafe of white wine?" She looked to her left and got no response at all. 

"No, thank you. I don't think I'll need wine to help me enjoy my dinner," she replied softly, and felt an approving pressure on her thigh. 

"Very well. And for you, sir, the filet, medium rare, with baked potato, sour cream, chives and bacon. More water, sir?"

"Yes, Jason, please bring one for each of us," he answered. 

"Very well, sir. I'll be right back."

As Jason left, she looked at him and was surprised as he leaned in to kiss her. His lips softly met hers, and the tip of his tongue swiped lightly across her parted lips. As he withdrew, he smiled. "Good decision on the wine. We don't need any kind of 'help' to enjoy either the dinner or the rest of the weekend. Water tastes good, and is good for us."

Laura had never had Sole Florentine before. In fact, she usually didn't like fish, so she was surprised at the light, flaky texture and the subtlety of the flesh, which allowed the spices to tantalize her tongue. "This is excellent," she murmured. "Thank you for choosing it for me."

He smiled as he chewed and swallowed a bit of his filet. "I thought you would appreciate it. It's light but tasty. I wouldn't want to weigh you down with a heavy meal before we get fully into your initiation." 

"Thank you, Sir. I ... well, I really didn't expect you to be quite so kind. I kind of expected ... I don't know, unrelenting ... umm, firmness, and that maybe you'd even be a little harsh." She trembled inside at her words, even though she knew that he expected her to speak truthfully to him at all times.

"You may at times consider me a harsh teacher," he said with another of those wicked grins that so enthralled her. "But when we finish your training in six months or so, you'll understand that every step, every stroke of the cane was designed especially for you, to help you become what you need to be."

Laura shuddered visibly at his mention of the cane. That thin, whippy device frightened her more than anything, even the thought of anal sex, which they had agreed would be part of her training. No one had ever even touched her there, and she was terribly worried that she wouldn't be able to do it, but she was determined to try, to become perfectly available in every way to the man to whom she would give her allegiance. She had seen pictures and even a couple of videos of women being caned, and the sight of the welts that rose almost instantly on those bare bottoms, and the streaky bruises that formed within minutes, terrified her. And just as with anal penetration, she knew that she would do all that she could to bear it, and learn to accept it as an integral part of her life.

"I'm sorry, Sir," she said softly, realizing that as she had thought about the experiences to come, she had missed something he said. "I was ... thinking, and I didn't hear you."

His eyes narrowed a little again, and he looked deep into her eyes. "Turn toward me, Little One." She obeyed the firm tone of his voice, and he reached to her breasts and cupped them in each hand. She knew that many people in the restaurant could see them, but at this point, she didn't care. She had been rude to him, and whatever discipline he chose would be right. His thumbs and forefingers closed on her still-aroused nipples and slowly began to tighten. "I asked..." he said slowly as he pinched her, "if you..." his fingers tightening more, becoming painful, "wanted..." she wanted at that instant to squirm, but knew that she could not, should not. "...dessert." His fingers clamped even more tightly for a moment, then released her, his hands falling to his thighs.

She gasped from the combination pain and excitement his actions had created, and the sudden tingle brought by the blood rushing back into her nipples. "I ... I'm sorry, Sir," she stammered. Then she gathered her wits and straightened her back. "No, thank you, Sir. I don't think the dessert I would want is on the restaurant's menu." It was her turn to hold a wicked smile in her eyes, and he laughed with her. 

"And what dessert would my Little One want, that's not served in one of Atlanta's finest restaurants?"

"I want... I want to be spanked, Sir. Spanked hard, by your hand on my bare bot... my bare ass. I want to feel your hand on me."

"Well, then, let us pass on dessert and head for home. You have surprised me yet again. I have to admit, I'm looking forward to that myself."

Jason the waiter came toward their table, almost as if he had been listening to them. "Was everything all right, sir?"

"Everything was fine, Jason. Mademoiselle particularly enjoyed the sole. Please give our compliments to Henri."

"I will, sir. Would you or Mademoiselle like some dessert?"

He grinned and said, "No, we just discussed that, and decided that we would be very happy with what we've had. I'll sign the check if you have it, please."

Jason brought the bill out of his pocket and placed it on the table. Laura couldn't help but notice that it was blank, except for the table number and Jason's initials. A quick scribble of a golden pen, and the check was handed back to the waiter. "Shall we go, my dear?"

"May I have a moment to freshen up?" she asked. "I won't be but a moment."

"Certainly," he said. "Jason will point you in the right direction."

Laura followed the young waiter and then caught up with him as he hesitated to point the way to the ladies' room. "Jason? Why was our check blank?"

He looked at her curiously, and then smiled. "Don't you know? He owns the restaurant!"

She couldn't think of anything to say except, "Oh. I see," and follow the waiter's gesture toward the discreetly marked door. Once inside, she stopped in front of the mirror and examined herself. Her dress was holding up nicely, no wrinkles to be seen, even when she turned to get a back view. "I guess if you don't sit on it, it doesn't wrinkle," she murmured to herself with a sigh. Her hair was impeccable, but she needed to touch up her lipstick. As she did that little chore, she once again became aware of a stickiness in her upper thighs and crotch, and thought of wiping herself down in one of the stalls. "No," she thought. "He knows how wet I was, and I think he enjoys it. No, I know he enjoys it. But I want him to see it, feel it on me - concrete evidence of how excited he's made me."

With her lipstick repaired from the meal, she exited the lounge, leaving a five-dollar tip for the attendant, who had done nothing but watch her. She didn't care. Just the time to think about what had happened in the last hour was well worth the tip. She saw him waiting in the lobby, and walked over to him with a smile. "Shall we?" she asked as she let him take her arm.

As they went out the door and down the walkway to the valet station, she slowed her steps slightly and looked up at him. "How long will it take to get 'home,' Sir? How long will it be before you spank me?"

He laughed softly, delighted with her. "It will take about forty minutes to drive home. But I can spank you in less than three minutes from now, when we get to the car." 

Laura's eyes brightened with delight. "Really? Please?"

"Really." The head valet saw them coming and removed a set of keys from the rack, motioning to one of the runners. "Kenny, I believe we'll walk to the car this evening," he said to the valet. "Thank you, though," and handed him a folded bill. He took her arm again and they began to walk into the large parking lot. "Ahh, I see the car," and he guided her toward a mostly empty area of the lot. When they got to a gleaming Mercedes, he led her toward the front of the car. "Bend over the hood, Little One, and lift your skirt."

"Outside the car, Sir?" she protested. "I thought you meant..."

"You thought I meant inside the car? That's for teenagers, my pet. If you don't want a spanking now..." he let his voice trail off suggestively. She pulled her dress up until she was exposed to the night air to above her navel and bent quickly over the hood of the car. "Spread your feet apart." She did, and felt one of his feet press against the inside of hers, pushing it further. She could feel the night breeze brushing past her exposed sex, and knew that she was again wet, again seeping down the insides of her thighs. 

He put his left hand on the small of her back, pressing her a little more firmly into the hood, and suddenly her bottom felt a large, heavy hand strike. The crack of contact seemed to echo through the parking lot, and she looked up to see if anyone could see them. When his hand came down on her other cheek, though, it didn't seem to matter any more, just as it hadn't with the man in the grey suit, and she laid her cheek down on the hood to focus on the sensations. He spanked her firmly, though not harshly, his hand alternating between cheeks. She could feel the heat rise, and knew that her pretty fanny was turning a bright pink. Twenty-two more smacks and she knew her bottom was burning hot - and that her cunt was leaking her excitement almost down to her knees. 

His hand slid between her legs, once again cupping her as intimately as a woman can be held, two fingers laid flat between her labia, their tips pressing firmly against her erect clitoris. She shuddered, then shuddered again as those same two fingers drew back and then thrust strongly inside her. "Don't cum," he said softly. "Don't cum." She shuddered, close to losing control, and then felt as if her entire insides had been ripped out of her as he withdrew his fingers. "Don't... don't cum," he said again.

Her legs were quivering so hard they could barely hold her up. If it hadn't been for her arms laid across the hood, and his hand still pressing down against the small of her back, she was convinced she would simply melt into a happy puddle next to the wheel of his car. His spanking hand now rubbed gently up and down her back while he continued to hold her with the other hand. Slowly, she regained control and lifted her head. "I think I can stand now," she whispered. He still supported her as she raised herself and turned to stand facing him, but still leaning against the car. "I have never ... never ... never been so close to cumming, and not done it. I didn't think it was possible, but when you said, 'Don't cum,' I forced myself to stop. I was already started, I think... and I stopped. I didn't know that could happen." She suddenly realized that her dress was still raised above her waist, her shaven pussy exposed. She thought about being embarrassed, then realized she wasn't - not in front of him. Thoughtfully, she reached down and lowered her dress to its normal position.

He walked her slowly to the door of the car, opened it and helped her sit down, raising the back of her skirt to put her bare, burning bottom on the soft leather seat. "I'm so wet," she protested weakly, holding herself just an inch above the seat.

He laughed. "It's good for the leather. Sit." She sat, wincing slightly from the heat and residual pain from the spanking. "Let's head for home. It's time your real training began."

To Be Continued...



Laura: Initiation of a Submissive Ch. 03



Chapter 2 ended with these paragraphs:

His hand slid between her legs, once again cupping her as intimately as a woman can be held, two fingers laid flat between her labia, their tips pressing firmly against her erect clitoris. She shuddered, then shuddered again as those same two fingers drew back and then thrust strongly inside her. "Don't cum," he said softly. "Don't cum." She shuddered, close to losing control, and then felt as if her entire insides had been ripped out of her as he withdrew his fingers. "Don't... don't cum," he said again.

Her legs were quivering so hard they could barely hold her up. If it hadn't been for her arms laid across the hood, and his hand still pressing down against the small of her back, she was convinced she would simply melt into a happy puddle next to the wheel of his car. His spanking hand now rubbed gently up and down her back while he continued to hold her with the other hand. Slowly, she regained control and lifted her head. "I think I can stand now," she whispered. He still supported her as she raised herself and turned to stand facing him, but still leaning against the car. "I have never ... never ... never been so close to cumming, and not done it. I didn't think it was possible, but when you said, 'Don't cum,' I forced myself to stop. I was already started, I think... and I stopped. I didn't know that could happen. I didn't know I could do that." She suddenly realized that her dress was still raised above her waist, her shaven pussy exposed. She thought about being embarrassed, then realized she wasn't - not in front of him. Thoughtfully, she reached down and lowered her dress to its normal position.

He walked her slowly to the door of the car, opened it and helped her sit down, raising the back of her skirt to put her bare, burning bottom on the soft leather seat. "I'm so wet," she protested weakly, holding herself just an inch above the seat.

He laughed. "It's good for the leather. Sit." She sat, wincing slightly from the heat and residual pain from the spanking. "Let's head for home. It's time your real training began."

Now, on to...

Chapter 3

He backed the Mercedes out of its space and out of the lot, onto the interstate only a couple of blocks away. The Thursday mid-evening traffic on the brightly-lit Atlanta highway was as heavy as a normal weekend night, because of the three-day holiday weekend. Suddenly, the river of taillights ahead of them flashed brighter red, as all the cars in sight put on their brakes. "Looks like an accident ahead," he commented calmly as the flow of traffic slowed from the normal Atlanta speed of 75 or 80 to 35 to 40 mph. As they cleared the crest of a small rise, Laura could see that the traffic was backed up for at least two miles in front of them. She knew the area - there was no exit for more than two miles from this point. Apparently, though, the problem causing the backup wasn't too serious, as the traffic continued its steady flow, albeit at about half its normal pace.

"Little One," he said quietly, "take your dress off, and lay it on the back seat." Though she was surprised at the command, she immediately reached to the back of her neck and untied the collar of her backless dress. As the front of the dress fell to her waist, her hands followed it and pushed the dress over her hips and down to her feet. She bent to pick it up, and turned partway around to drop it on the back seat of the Mercedes. "I said, 'lay it on the back seat,'" he said quietly. "Not 'toss it.'" 

A quick flick of her eyes to the window next to her confirmed her memory. The windows of the car were untinted. Anyone near them in a vehicle as tall as or taller than a small pickup could easily see her to the waist, if not lower. If she were to lay the dress on the back seat, she would have to unfasten her seatbelt, turn and kneel in the seat, and lean over the back of it, revealing her body at least from shoulders to mid-thigh.

Her hand moved almost without hesitation to the buckle of her seatbelt and released it. Gracefully, she turned and knelt, and leaned over to lay her dress neatly across the back seat. She was not at all surprised to feel a sharp smack on her "sweet spot," the slightly-protruding lowest part of her bottom where it joined her thighs. A slight smile flickered across her lips, and she glanced out the right back window and saw the driver next to them staring. His mouth was comically wide open, and his eyes looked like those of a cartoon character. Her eyes crinkled with suppressed laughter and pleasure, and she took her time rising and returning to her proper position in the seat, turning her body to face outward from the car, to give him as much a view as possible from his slightly-lower vehicle. She felt her sex ooze more moisture onto her and the soft leather seats of his Mercedes, and knew that she was terribly excited. 

He didn't suppress his chuckle. "Gave him a good view, didn't you, Little One?"

"Yes, Sir. I thought that was what you would want... and to be honest, I wanted it, too." 

"You're going to be a pleasure to train. You're bright, obedient, and able to anticipate. You won't escape discipline, of course - no one does - but you'll end up with less of that than most trainees."
"Thank you, Sir. I'm not sure I deserve that assessment, but I gratefully accept it for the compliment that it seems to be."

Again, he didn't hold back - he threw his head back and laughed gleefully. "You've studied well. But no matter what, you will be disciplined, it will hurt you, and you will cry. My regimen is designed so that every trainee must fail in some aspects at some times. Each submissive, regardless of her innate talents and desire, needs to be disciplined, to understand the need for it, and the satisfaction that comes - to you - from realizing that failure to perform your tasks successfully results in prompt correction. For you, I think that realization will come early - perhaps as early as your third or fourth discipline session - and that understanding, and the tears you shed to gain it, will stay deep in your mind and soul forever."

"Thank you, Sir. I know that you know what is best for me, and if you decide that I need to be disciplined every week... every day of each weekend I spend with you... every hour of each day... I will gladly submit, knowing that it will make me better for you, no matter how much fear and pain it brings."

He concentrated on his driving for a moment, then glanced at her briefly. "Your knees are much too close together for my tastes," he said quietly. "Open them." She pressed her right knee against the door panel, her left against the center console of the car's cockpit, and felt a sudden rush of wetness flood her labia as they separated. Silently, she waited, though she felt rather than sensed that a high-bodied pickup truck was now close on her side of the car. She knew that the driver could clearly see her, from shoulders to knees, yet she felt no urge to hide herself. She belonged to the man on her left, and she knew that he was as aware of her exposure as she. As long as that was what he wanted, it was what she wanted. 

"Your bottom has never been penetrated," he said. "Isn't that what you told me?"

"Yes, Sir. Nothing has ever been in there."
"Not even your own finger?" he asked.

"Not even that," she said huskily, already knowing what was about to happen, and scared yet excited. She could feel her anus tighten at the thought, and consciously tried to ease it, knowing from her reading that any relaxation she could muster. She wasn't positive, but she thought she could feel her bottom relax, just a little.

"Reach behind and under yourself with your right hand. Dip your little finger in the moisture of your cunt, and then put it in your ass, at least to the first knuckle." She obeyed silently and swiftly, gasping a little at the sharp little pain she felt as her finger entered her virgin anus. It was a strange and strangely exciting sensation, and she felt the juices of her sex increase their flow, seeping downward to coat her finger. Emboldened and aroused even further by her body's lubrication of the intruder, she pressed deeper, up to the second knuckle of her finger. 

Her tight little bottom-hole seemed to try to both grasp and simultaneously expel this unusual thing, but she kept her finger buried there. "Is it in to the first knuckle?" he asked, unable to see the first tiny deflowering of her bottom.

"Oh, yes, Sir," she sighed. "It's up to the second knuckle." She looked at him with eyes that might have come from a hentai image. "It's ... I don't know how to describe it. There was some pain, but ... it excites me, too. It feels ... good, in a very different way."

Without a word, he reached between her wide-spread thighs and put the tip of his middle finger directly on her clitoris. "It is time you got your first reward," he said huskily. "When you approach your peak, ask me for permission to cum. If your request is appropriate to our situation, I will give it. If not, I will withhold permission to cum - I will simply tell you no - and you must wait and ask again. When you finally get permission, it will be in this form: 'Cum, slut. Cum now!' and you may climax at that time. If you cum before I give you permission, you will get your first discipline session as soon as we get to the house, and I may or may not allow you to cum this weekend, as a reminder that you are to obey me in all things, no matter how difficult." 

"Yes, sir. I understand, and I will obey." His finger began to manipulate her engorged clitoris, which by this time was almost painful from the repeated instances of almost reaching orgasm without a release. In less than two minutes, his massage of her love button had her squirming frantically in the seat, and she suddenly realized that not only was her pinky buried in her bottom, it was thrusting in and out in time with his strokes on her clit. This sudden realization triggered the beginning of her climax, and she gasped, "Please, Sir, may this worthless submissive cum?" 

She had to control herself waiting for his response, because he said nothing for several long seconds. "No." Her head dropped, and she focused on holding back the orgasm that threatened to erupt with every beat of her racing heart. Her thighs quivered furiously with the effort to withhold that explosion, and she tried to think of a better way to ask permission. 

"Please, Sir. May I cum, please, Sir?" she whispered hoarsely. Again, he waited for seconds before he answered. This time, however, the response was what she yearned to hear. 

"Cum, slut. Cum now!" The words echoed over and over in her mind as it focused completely on her vagina and anus, where her finger was now buried as deeply as she could force it. The added new pressure there seemed to expand the focus of her orgasm while intensifying it. Only after many seconds of her orgasm did she realize that when her orgasm struck, she had planted her heels firmly in the carpet and her shoulders into the back of the seat, and arched her back until her entire body from shoulders almost to her knees was above the lower edge of the window. Anyone who could see their car could see her cumming so furiously, and that realization triggered a second, shorter orgasm that overlapped the ending spasms of the first.

As the muscles of her cunt and anus relaxed, she sank slowly back to the seat while his finger lightly caressed her labia. She sat there for several minutes catching her breath, legs widespread, thighs and fingers coated with the secretions of her vagina, and slowly returned to the world. "Sir?"

His finger slowed a little more in its massage of her sex. "Yes, Little One?" 

"May I take my finger out of my bottom, please, Sir? It's not hurting my bottom," she explained, "but my hand is starting to fall asleep from sitting on it."

He laughed and gave her permission to take her finger from her newly-stimulated nether hole. She pulled slowly, eyes widening as the new stimulus reawakened her sex. In just a few seconds, the finger was free, and the tingle she felt inside her first-time penetrated ass spread an interesting warmth to her vagina. "Mmmm," she didn't realize she moaned.

A quiet chuckle to her left made her understand that she had vocalized her feelings, and she glowed that she had pleased him. "Thank you, Sir, for letting me cum," she said softly. 

"It was my pleasure, too," he answered. "We have a few minutes until we get to the house. Are there any questions you haven't asked that you might like to ask while we drive?"

"Umm, well... my dress is still on the back seat. Should I get dressed before we get to the house?"

The wicked laugh that erupted from his lips was answer enough, but he said, "No, Little One. You have no need of clothing until you're ready to leave Sunday evening." She sighed, "I thought that was what you would say. As you will, sir."

"Good. I wouldn't have it any other way," he chuckled. "But what I meant was, questions about the relationship, the things that will happen to you during your training... that sort of question."

"Well, I kinda knew that, but I wanted to ask about the dress before we got there. I do have a question," she hurried on. "I should already know this, but somehow, I haven't been able to understand how the same spanking can be sensual one time, and discipline another. I mean..."

"That's a simple concept that is hard to understand from what you find online and in the books currently on the market. It's also one that I address in the book I have coming out in a few months. I could let you read that chapter, but perhaps I can condense it for you before we get to the house."

"I'd like that, Sir."

End, Chapter 3



Laura: Initiation of a Submissive Ch. 04



Chapter 3 ended with these paragraphs:

"Umm, well… my dress is still on the back seat. Should I get dressed before we get to the house?"

The wicked laugh that erupted from his lips was answer enough, but he said, "No, Little One. You have no need of clothing until you're ready to leave Sunday evening." 

She sighed, "I thought that was what you would say. As you will, sir."

"Good. I wouldn't have it any other way," he chuckled. "But what I meant was, questions about the relationship, the things that will happen to you during your training… that sort of question."

"Well, I kinda knew that, but I wanted to ask about the dress before we got there. I do have a question," she hurried on. "I should already know this, but somehow, I haven't been able to understand how the same spanking can be sensual one time, and discipline another. I mean…"

"That's a simple concept that is hard to understand from what you find online and in the books currently on the market. It's also one that I address in the book I have coming out in a few months. I could let you read that chapter, but perhaps I can condense it for you before we get to the house."

"I'd like that, Sir."

Now, on to 

Laura: Initiation of a Submissive

Chapter 4

"First of all," he said, "it's not quite the same spanking. While the same implements may be used – hand, paddle, flogger, crop, cane, whatever – the intention of the Dominant is what determines if a spanking, to use the generic term, is sensual or disciplinary. It's very important that the Dominant make clear to the submissive what is happening. A submissive who wishes to please her Dominant will gain as much from the knowledge that she has disappointed him as from the feelings of pain and shame that she receives from the punishment."

A soft moan did not quite escape Laura's lips as she thought about his words. He continued, "Disciplinary spanking also usually – in my case, always – includes a certain amount of ritual, which is designed to intensify the experience. For example, discipline almost always takes place in the same place – a chair or bench or table over which the submissive is placed – which is never, ever used for sensual spanking. Just being summoned to that place or position lets the submissive know that she is to be disciplined, and is the actual beginning of her punishment.

"In sensual spanking, on the other hand, the submissive knows that the end result of the spanking is intended to be pleasure. Therefore, her attitude is that of the pleasure-seeker, and she uses the spanking to awaken her body, to prepare it for the sensual pleasures that she knows will follow.

"That's the two-minute explanation of something that actually occupies almost twenty pages of my book, but it is the basis of the whole chapter. Does that lead you closer to understanding the difference?"

She hesitated a moment, thinking. "Yes, sir, it does help. The concept is fairly clear, but … I'm afraid I may not understand fully until I have experienced disciplinary spanking. I haven't ever been spanked as a punishment, not even by my parents when I was a child, or in school. I hoped that my behavior would never merit punishment … but now I see that I do need to experience it, to fully appreciate my submissiveness. That's hard to explain … I …"

"That's quite all right, Little One," he said. "You understand more than most beginners, even those who have read quite a bit and researched. Your instincts are very good, surprisingly good. I think you may end up being punished less than most, because of those instincts… but as I told you, my training regimen is deliberately designed to cause trainees to fail in various ways, because discipline is so important a part of the training."

"Yes, Sir. And while I can't say that I'll look forward to being punished… disciplined… I will do my best to accept it and embrace it as a necessary part of my growth."

While they had talked, he had steered the car off the interstate and onto a major thoroughfare, then into a quiet neighborhood with few houses to be seen. On their left was a long, eight-foot wall, an anonymous beige with brick top. He turned left into an entryway, and Laura saw an iron gate ahead. "This is where He lives. A gated community. Well, that should allow for a certain amount of privacy," she thought, "so I might not be seen going naked from his car to the door." He pressed a small button on the dash, and the gate opened for them. He drove down a smoothly paved road, and she suddenly realized that there was only one house in sight. What she had assumed was an entire community was one residence – His.

He parked in front of the house, got out of the car and walked around to open her door. 

She smiled up at him tremulously and accepted his hand, and they walked up the path to the three steps leading to the well-lighted porch and his door. As she set foot on the first step, the door opened and a tall man in a black suit stood outlined by the lights behind him, not well enough illuminated by the porch lights that she could make out his face.

"Laura, this is Edward. He is my right hand, and majordomo. Any instructions he gives you are from me. He'll show you around the house, and show you your quarters."

"Umm, yes, Sir." She was a little nervous about standing nude in front of someone she had never before seen, but her faith in her Master carried her through. "It's a pleasure to meet you ... um ... Edward? Or should I address you ..." she faltered.

"Edward is fine, Miss. I am not He, merely his helper. Come this way, please." Edward turned and led her into the house as He stepped through a pair of doors to the left of the foyer. "To the right, Miss, is the parlor. He entertains guests here when it is a small group." She looked around the superbly appointed room and recognized three small paintings on the wall as the work of a wildly popular and very expensive artist who had died just a couple of years before. She detoured close enough to one to determine that it was an original, not a copy.

In his not-quite-British accent, Edward continued. "Through here is the living room, where He sometimes meets with larger groups or close friends." This room was larger, perhaps twenty-five feet by thirty, with three small conversation groups and a larger area with seating for eight to ten and a very large television screen and an exquisite sound system. "This is quite popular during football season," he said. 

Leading her to a set of sliding glass doors, he pointed out an Olympic-sized swimming pool, complete with 1- and 3-meter diving boards, and a 10-meter platform. "He spends at least an hour a day in the pool," the majordomo said. "If you are not under restriction or punishment, he will be pleased to have you join him in the morning. You do swim, don't you?" Laura had been on the high school swim team, though she dropped competition in college, so she was happy to say that she did, and enjoyed swimming every chance she got, without mentioning her previous experience. Somehow, she got the idea that Edward was not terribly impressed by her assertion, though nothing showed in his face.

He led her upstairs to a broad carpeted hallway with a number of ornate doors. Each was closed. "Only your room is open to you, Miss. The others are to be entered only upon invitation or instruction." She was momentarily stunned by the coldness of his voice, but recovered as he opened a door and motioned her in. "This is your quarters, Miss." She looked around and saw a king-sized bed and two comfortable chairs, a fireplace and a large expanse of windows covered with sheers. "Your closet is, at this time, empty, as He has said you will not be in need of clothing this weekend. On future occasions, there will be clothing in the closet, which you will wear at his instruction." Her eyes widened slightly at this, but she said nothing. "And this is your bath, Miss." Edward leaned over to the tap of a bathtub big enough for six. "Do you know your preferred bath temperature?" 

"I like it very warm," she said, "but not enough to turn me into a lobster."

As he adjusted the tap, he said, "I will set it at 94 degrees, then, Miss. If you would be so kind as to test it when an inch or two of water is in the bath, I can adjust it closer to your liking." They waited a moment as the tub began to fill, then she bent her knees awkwardly to reach into the tub and test it with her hand. For some reason, she was reluctant to just bend over in front of this man, even though she had been nude from the first moment she saw him. It seemed that, in front of him, she felt naked rather than nude, though she couldn't explain, even to herself, why that would be. 

The tub filled quickly, and he offered his hand to help her step in. She didn't know how to ask him to leave - or even if she should - so she said nothing except "Thank you," feeling that was the more appropriate action. With a slight motion of his hand, Edward indicated a shelf at the wall side of the tub which she had not previously noticed, where there was a selection of bath bars, washcloth, loofah and sponges of various textures. She selected a cleansing bar and removed its wrapper, noting that all the bars had one thing in common: none of them were scented. Edward responded as if she had commented.

"He prefers that his 'guests' smell only of themselves," he said, "not some artificial flavor of the month." She dipped a thick washcloth into the water and soaped it, beginning to wash her shoulders and upper chest. "Do you have a preference of shampoo and conditioner?" he asked, indicating a row of bottles. She selected a brand that she had used in the past with good results, though she couldn't really afford it on a regular basis. Her hands automatically kept washing her upper body, then she started a little as she felt Edward's hand on her forehead, tipping it slightly backward as the majordomo brought a spray head on a flexible hose to her hair and wetted it. 

He poured a large capful of shampoo into one hand and rubbed it between both before bringing them to her hair and wiping the sudsy liquid the length of her hair, and beginning to lather it in. She noted almost dispassionately that his hands and fingers were very strong as they not only shampooed her hair but also massaged her scalp. It felt very good. Almost unconsciously, she rose to her knees to soap her midriff, pubic area and buttocks. The warm water that cascaded through her hair and down her back as Edward rinsed her hair felt good, too. In fact, everything felt good, especially the washcloth that was now scrubbing her upper thighs and between them. 

She reluctantly moved the washcloth away from her bare abdomen and stood, noting in the back of her mind that the majordomo had now massaged conditioner into her hair and was rinsing it, allowing the water to rush over her body and remove the soapsuds that lingered there. His hand reached around her, and she automatically placed the washcloth in it, somehow knowing without being told that he was going to scrub her back. She braced herself with one arm against the wall as his strong hand washed her, and then rinsed her back with more of the warm flow from the spray head.

As he flipped the toggle to drain the tub with one hand, his other hand reached out to her, and she took his hand to step out, then stood passively as he briefly rubbed her hair, then wrapped it in a towel turban. Edward reached out without looking and picked up another warm, fluffy towel, and began to dry her, starting from the neck. She was a little surprised at her calm acceptance of these attentions by someone she had only met a half hour before, especially since she couldn't recall having been dried by someone else after a shower or bath since her mother had done it when she was a small child.

He was thorough, but almost clinical as he thoroughly dried her. She was a little surprised that his touch was slightly - but noticeably - more gentle on her bottom, and more surprised that the fact that a virtual stranger was rubbing a towel between her cheeks and now between her thighs wasn't embarrassing her, or making her wet. Edward knelt on one knee and raised first one calf, then the other, to dry them and her feet, and she noted that he kept his eyes on what he was doing, not even glancing upward to peek at her exposed sex.

When he finished, he led her to a makeup table complete with lavatory sink and more cleansing bars and lotions. "I'll let you do your own face," he said. "You'll probably be more comfortable with that for now." The implication that he might do that, too, for her in the future didn't surprise her. In fact, it sounded rather nice. She quickly erased the light makeup she had worn for the evening, and took his hand again as he reached out toward her.

He led her into a smaller room, the toilet, and motioned toward a padded shelf at just above waist height. "Lean forward over that, please, Miss. You may rest your head on your arms." She looked at him with a puzzled expression. "Enema, Miss. The last step in your ablutions." 

Shocked, she protested. "I ... I ... I can do that myself," she said. There was no way this stranger was going to put something up her bottom! "But it's not necessary... He said we wouldn't do anal until later."

Edward looked at her calmly. "He wishes me to complete the task, Miss. I do not disobey him." The slight emphasis the majordomo put on "I" was not lost on her. She took the two steps over to the countertop and leaned forward, her face buried between her arms, and tears welling in her eyes. She had never thought of this! She felt his hand on the back of her right thigh, pushing lightly outward, and obediently moved her foot to spread her legs. "This is a lubricant to ease entry of the nozzle, Miss." His finger lightly massaged a warm liquid substance on her shrinking anus, then slipped inward. She gasped a little - his finger was certainly larger than the pinky she had forced in there only a little while ago! She focused on her pussy. No, she was not getting wet - this was not exciting her at all. 

His finger pulled almost out, then pushed back in again, making sure she was well lubricated before he removed it. "The enema is just under body temperature, Miss, so it may feel a little cool, or almost neutral. Please clench your anus on the nozzle while it is inserted, and as I remove it. I will tell you when I am about to remove it. Please do not drip on the floor." The plastic nozzle, smaller in diameter than even her pinky, slipped in easily, but she could feel the flush of her skin from her face down to the tops of her breasts and probably all across her shoulders. "I am about to release the enema. Clench tightly, please."

She followed his instruction, and felt the gush of the liquid into her bowels. As Edward had said, the enema was almost neutral, temperature-wise. She felt her abdomen expanding under the pressure of the liquid being injected into her, and was about to tell him she couldn't take any more, when he said, "I'm stopping the flow now. Please stay absolutely still, but flex your stomach muscles. This will ease the pressure you feel." Again, she followed his command, and indeed, the pressure eased. "I'm resuming. You haven't much more to go." The pressure increased again as more liquid flowed into her. "That's all of it," he said. "Please clench tightly as I remove the nozzle, and stay in your present position."

She barely felt the nozzle leave her as she strained to hold the liquid inside her body. His hand on her shoulder gently urged her to rise, and she walked unsteadily, feet widespread, to the commode he led her to. "Sit slowly," he said. "Hold on. Stay clenched until I tell you to release." She saw no emotion in his eyes - neither pity, nor lust. He simply looked at her as a task to be accomplished. After what seemed forever, but was actually only about half a minute, he spoke again. "Release," he said, and she relaxed her body and expelled the enema in a gush that embarrassed her as it flooded into the fixture. She could feel the heat of her blush from her face to her breasts.

After a last spurt, she nodded, and he offered his hand to help her rise. "Turn around, please, Miss, and bend over at the waist, feet well spread." Numbly, she followed his directions, and felt a warm wet washcloth rub the tops of her thighs, between her cheeks, and dipping slightly into her anus. Then a warm towel followed the same path. She almost giggled at the thought that she was probably as clean as she had ever been in her life - even inside!

“He would like to see you downstairs, Miss,” Edward said as she rose, and led the way to the door. They walked silently down the hallway, down the stairs, and back to the double doors He had gone through when he turned her over to the majordomo. He opened one and gestured her through, then led her down another short hallway with three doors – two on the right, and one at the end. He opened the end door, and again gestured for her to enter. As she did, she saw at a glance that this room was not open to the general visitor to His house. 

On one wall, an “X” of large, heavy timbers dominated that side of the room. She saw pedestals for feet, with padded leather cuffs slightly above them on each leg of the X, and matching cuffs high above. Nearby was what looked like a modified sawhorse. Instead of being simply an inverted “V,” the top was padded with a purple leather, about eight inches wide, and there were narrow “benches” on each side about halfway down, also padded. She noted that the “benches” extended toward her a little more than a foot, and that there were cuffs here, too, at the near end of the benches and below them at the other end.

A complicated-looking harness of some sort – it almost looked like a hammock – hung from the ceiling a short distance away, and other devices she couldn’t absorb in such a short time. Her attention was drawn to her Master, now dressed all in black – slacks, shoes and tight t-shirt – and sitting in a large chair near the third wall. His face was serious, and her stomach shrank as she wondered what was wrong.

“Come here, Laura,” he said. She walked forward to him, stopping just in front of his feet. “I thought you were going to be obedient,” he said quietly.

“Obedient, Sir? What … how have I not been …” she stammered. “I …”

“Did I not tell you that any instructions from Edward came from me?” She gasped as she realized what he was getting at. “You argued with him. That is the same as arguing with me. You have earned your first punishment before you were in the house an hour. I know I told you that you would earn punishment, but I didn’t expect it to be this quickly.” 

“I … I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to argue …” she began.

“Silence!” His voice shut her up as if her mouth had been covered. “I will say this only this one time more. Edward’s instructions are my instructions. You will follow them explicitly. If he instructs you incorrectly, I will deal with it. You,” and the emphasis in his voice was chillingly bleak, “will obey.”

“Yes, Sir,” she whispered.

“I can’t hear you.”

“Yes, Sir. I will obey Edward as if his words come from your lips.”

“That’s better. Edward, take her to the punishment bench.” The majordomo, face expressionless, led her to a device very similar to the purple one she had noted earlier, but its padding seemed thinner, its top was only about four inches wide, and the leather covering was black. “This will be your punishment station, Miss,” Edward said. “Kneel on the laterals there, and lay your torso down the length of the top.” She followed his directions immediately, heart sinking, tears dripping down her cheeks, and felt him fasten the leather cuffs – unpadded, she noted unthinkingly – around her ankles, and then her wrists. 




Laura: Initiation of a Submissive Ch. 04



“Why are you crying, Laura?” He asked.

“I failed you, Sir. The first task you set me here, and I failed you,” she sobbed. “I’m so sorry.”

“I know you are sorry. But as I explained, punishment is an important part of your training. It cannot be lessened because of your sorrow. It is a learning tool, just as any other. I would use a cane for disobedience in a more experienced submissive, but because you are a novice, you will receive a dozen strokes of the birch, instead.” He held a bundle of thin, flexible branches in front of her. “Kiss the birch, and prepare yourself.” She pursed her lips and kissed the branches, and listened as he stepped to her side. She heard a “swish” as He swung the bundle through the air, and tensed her buttocks tightly in anticipation. “Try to keep your muscles loose,” He said. “Tightening them will make it hurt worse.”

She tried to relax her muscles, then shrieked as it seemed a flame burst across her bottom. “Count,” He said. “Your count is this: ‘One, Sir. I will obey.”

“One, Sir,” she gasped. “I will obey.”

The bundle of seemingly innocent branches swished through the air again, and she felt the blow and the fire reverberate through her body. “Two, Sir. I will obey.” By then tenth stroke, she was sobbing and her words were barely comprehensible. 

“You have two strokes left, Laura,” she heard. “Gather yourself. They will be less moderate than the previous strokes.” She tried to collect her wits and relax the muscles of her abused ass, but the bundle of birch struck down with more force than before, and she shrieked again. “Eleven, S-s-sir. I w-will obey!” The tears streamed down from her eyes, more from the pain now than from having failed Him. Once more, the birch struck, and she screamed loudly. “Ohhhhh! T-t-t-twelve, Sir! I … I will … will obey, Sir!”

The bundle of slim branches appeared in front of her face, though she could barely see it through her tear-filled eyes. Without instruction, she extended her neck and kissed the birch. “Thank you, Sir. I will not forget this lesson, Sir.”

“I know you won’t, even though it will have to be repeated before your training is through.” He motioned to the majordomo, and the two of them released her ankles and wrists, and supported her as she tried to stand. If it were not for their help, she would have crumpled to the floor in misery. “Edward will take you to your quarters. Good night, Laura. I will see you in the morning.”

Edward led her unsteadily to her room and helped her lie facedown on the bed. “This cream will help your skin, Miss. It won’t ease the pain much, but it’s good for you.” The cream he massaged into her burning bottom was cool, which helped a little, but even his gentle touch was painful. “Good night, Miss,” he said, as he turned off the light and left the room.

End, Chapter 4

Sir_Winston54