by margo
Elaina Submits At The College Gym
The beginning of a memory is the hardest tendril of thought to grasp, to seize it in hand and scrutinize. But that is exactly where I start…. College…..one of those all girl institutions that promoted not only superior education but the turning out of refined women. Little did they know they were turning out women in the leagues of Sappo.
Walking through the college commons….an outside area of red brick and structured gardens, gentle breezes lifting my skirt…caressing my bare legs…the memory becomes real and solidifies in my conscious.
Humming under my breath.. walking back to my dorm….a sparsely furnished…dismal place, made habitable by her. Elaina. An Australian exchange student. Laughing eyes, changeable with her moods, large pools of crystal blue water, that look best filled with tears. Hair ripe as wheat, kissed by fairy’s wings and just as light. She is what I would describe as a breakable woman…the kind that is so slim my arm can completely encircle her. But her seemingly fragile body was deceiving. She takes the best and worst of my moods…shivering and trembling… whipcord and sinew…muscles taunt.
But today …today is a good day…we will meet in the college gym to work out together…she’s been trying to make the tennis team. Smiling to my self.. thinking the racket is as big as she is, but she’s all heart and determination. And so we will work on upper body strength.
Walking with a almost visible skip…. Passing the tennis courts…watching her serve…thinking. Planning her day. With lustful fascination I wonder how much her arms can take. Shoving the door to the gym…I’m greeted with a myriad of smells….sweat and tears…mingle with the odor of lactic acid and female hormones. Breathing deeply I walk past the basketball court, allowing the sound of sneakers to fill my ears and sink my thoughts to that place where I’m strongest. Where no whines or pleading will reach. The Hard Place.
Smiling my thanks at an unknown benefactress that thought seniors should be allowed private work out time, I swipe my ID through the college scheduler, soft beep, and the glass door clicks open. Swinging it wide, I twirl the blinds closed and drop my carry all. A black bag – it has seen all of my toys and all of my Scenes.
Extending my arms to the college ceiling, stretching up like a cat…I begin warming up to be ready for your hot and sweaty self to join me. Leaning to the right, rotating down … feeling the pull…first in my waist …then back….and legs. Going through the motions …watching you out the window under the careful eye of the coach, but she won’t work you as hard as I will. Secret smile and an audible purr , thoughts churning…single flashes of you…hanging from one piece of equipment or another….begging for mercy…tears falling…
The soft beep and click brings me back to the present, the heat rising from body as I straighten and turn to you. The look in my eyes causes you to drop your things and fall to your knees just inside the door. You risk one glance up and then drop your head.
“That will cost you sweet one, but it will cost you later. Now, on your feet and over here.” I point to the center of the floor. You jump up and spring to the spot. I smile. The thought crossing my mind that you will not be moving so effortlessly in a moment. Handing you a set of barbells and lifting your wrists to shoulder height… straight out to the sides, the dismay in your eyes sending a tingle deep with in me.
“You know the drill. You will lower and raise your arms stopping when and where I tell you. Begin.
Crossing my arms, rocking ever so slightly foot to foot ,from legs spread wide and placed firm, I watch you. The strain in your shoulders…muscles rippling under the skin. Sweat glistening as you lift and lower the weights. “Stop.” You startle and cease motion . Your arms dead center of the movement. Our eyes lock and I challenge you to move. Your shoulders begin to quiver. The shudders continue down your arms.
“Continue.” Gratefulness fills your eyes as you drop your arms….and terror replaces it as you realize that lifting them again is going to be… difficult… Muscle fatigue sets in and your breath deepens. After another set of seven I take the weights from you. You move over to sink down on the bench.. arms hanging limply. I spread your legs and walk over to the wall and pick up the five lb. Frees…Placing them on either side of your feet and move to stand in between your legs. Lifting one foot and insinuating it under the juncture of your thighs…wiggling it forward so it presses… Hard.
“Curls. Come on pick them up. You can do this… you’re not tired. Not yet.” Chuckling to myself as I watch you try to figure out how to pick up the weights without pressing your poor clit any harder onto my arch. You give up and lean forward and to one side.
“ooohhh” Gasp. The breath is caught. But so is one weight. You straighten and smile a little under my eye….blushing. Turning and twisting you reach for the other and lose the battle not to squirm. Your hips hump my foot in search of relief. However, your hand is on the other weight. I place my hands in your hair and drag your face up. Holding either side of your head by the hair… shaking you slightly.
Your eyes will not meet mine, my face is inches from yours. “I felt that. And You Are In Trouble.” Punctuating each word with a harder shake. “Now you will finish what you started. Holding on to those weights and Not dropping them you are going to grind….rock …twist….and hump on my foot until you come.” Dropping you back down on my foot…weights hanging helplessly….tears welling in your eyes. I wrap my hand in your hair and press your face into my inner thigh…feeling you lips brush there…a small kiss of gratitude that your face is hidden. That you don’t have to watch my amusement…or see the lust in my eyes…the dark passion that sends you reeling.
You begin moving ….rocking….your breath coming in quick little pants….shifting for better position. I run my hands down your back…over your shoulders…playing in the sweat. “That’s right sweet one, get lost…enjoy the ride.” Twisting my hand…tugging your hair….smiling down at you. Your movements quicken…become more frantic as you reach the end…. “ummmmmmmahhhhhhhooooooo” vibrates on my thigh. Thrusting steadily…your hips jerking…. “pl…p…pl…please….. pleeeeeeeease Mistress now? Please?” As I savor the sight of you hanging on the edge waiting for permission your orgasm a heartbeat away….a weight clangs loudly to the floor…Discordant tones echo through both of us and you freeze. Time ceases to exist as you tremble. I throw you to the floor by your hair. You kneel …head hanging…breathing ragged…….
PART 2
Walking around your kneeling form…savoring the sight of your short white skirt, your breasts rising and falling quickly … unevenly. The sheen of sweat making your white T-shirt cling….caress… showing the muscles in your back as your head hangs helplessly. I go to stand and look out the window. Letting your breath and your heartbeat form cadence in my subconscious…. I look at the play of light on the water, giving you time to recover, regroup… rest… then worry.
Little shifting movements…. The adjustments she makes when she’s been on her knees for a while, brings a cruel smile to my face. Moving to place a foot in front of you and one behind, I loom large in your personal space. Amusement lights my eyes as I watch her try not to flinch and lean away. Throwing down another challenge, I tell you, “Strip.”
She tries to figure out how to rise gracefully… and I wait… Patiently, smiling. One can almost hear a phantom clock ticking the moments away… the hourglass of my patience quickly draining… opening my hand…. Reaching for your hair… as you rise unsteadily to your feet… straight up.
Rising just as you had been taught… one fluid motion. Trying not to sway on legs that are tingling. One single centimeter of space between our bodies, I’m as close to you as any teacher has ever been… miles away as a gentle lover. Reaching down and untucking the T-shirt… tugging and unpeeling it from your wet skin. The zipper on your skirt hangs a little. I see her cringe internally, remembering she was supposed to fix that yesterday. The rest of your striptease is jerky… almost clumsy. Her sports bra and panties join the pile on the floor. You stand straight and draw air deep into your lungs. Mentally preparing yourself.
Walking to your other side… I bend you at the waist and tuck you under my left arm. Place my hand on your mond and lift you up to your toes. “Ooooooooooh,” you gasp. Lifting you a bit higher… I begin to spank you. Letting the silence speak louder than any lecture… Smack after smack…turning your bottom red. “Umm…umm…. oh…oh…Ahhh…” small noises…. Letting me know…I begin to smack the curve…lifting your ass with every blow… “OOOOwwwweeee…….p…..p…..pl….aaarughhhmmm.” Swallowing your cries terrified that someone might hear. The heat intensely rising and your ass dancing as I continue. When your bottom is cherry red and my hand drenched I stop and let you go. You sink to your knees and face me, taking the hand that punished you and kissing it gratefully and catching the other. You apologize as you clean my hand of your wetness. . “Mistress, i….i… Mistress I’m sorry..about…a….um..i’m sorry…” Your tongue does not stop…though it’s motions are now mechanical….your mind searching frantically. I wrap my fingers around your jaw and lift. Drag you over to the weight bench…. prop my foot on it and drag you across my knee. My hand draws back over my shoulder and descends rapidly..
“You….” SMACK… “are…”. Smack…. “sorry” SMACK SMACK Smack…. “For Not” SMAAACK “FIXING” SMAAACCKKKK “THAT” SMAAACCCKKKKK “Zipper!” SMMMMMAAAACCKKK
Tears fall at every blow to your tender flesh. Your bottom has taken on a life of it’s own, as if the relaxing and contracting… the shifting and squirming…the writhing… would appease me and make me cease. Suddenly you hang limp, accepting. Your chest heaving, sobs washing through like waves. I lay my burning hand on your ass… stroking your hair off your neck as you hang.
“You know, little one, if you would do things as I tell you to do them instead of waiting for later, you would not find your naughty bottom in this position as often as you do. And you will learn not to procrastinate… even if we end up doing this every day.”
“Mistress,” you take a deep breath “Mistress, you’re right and I’m so…so… s… s..sorry. Please forgive me.” I pick her up in my arms and sit on the bench, cuddling her…stroking her hair. Her arms creep up to grasp my neck. She’s childishly sobbing into my shoulder. I run my hands through her hair and close my hand at the back of her neck. Lifting her face up for a kiss… running my tongue over your lips tasting salt.
“Thank you Ma’am…oh..oh…thank you…” she smiles softly… wetly. “thank you for punishing me… for making me a better person… I’ll try harder, I promise. I kiss you once more… deeply and set you one your feet. “Now Elaina, you are to do your curls… your drops… and the pull downs.” Looking at you sternly. “I know you hate the Lat. pull downs and you’re going to do an extra set just for me. I expect you to get them done efficiently… no dawdling. You will be showered, shaved, primped and perfumed by 5:00. This will give me adequate time to get you turned out for the dinner we have tonight at the President’s house. And I have a few surprises that should make this dinner unforgettable.” Amused by her shocked and fearful expression, I pick up my bag and head for our room. Humming and anticipating the evening we are going to have… And hoping the bathrooms at the President’s house aren’t too cramped.
PART 3
Hi. Elaina here. Mistress is tired of writing so I’m giving her a break and thinking that I can do this more justice anyway. After watching her walk out the door, I allowed myself the little luxury of sticking my tongue out at her retreating image. Not that this made me feel any better, in fact I felt worse. Snaking my hands around to rub circles on my cheeks I wonder if I will ever learn what she’s trying to teach me, and decide that the learning process is too much fun. Going to the free weights along the wall, I choose a set heavier than she would have chosen feeling self-righteous. Singing to myself, I stand to do my curls. Flexing and releasing, I work toward the burn. Alternating sets of drops and curls, I work until my arms are shaking. Throwing the free weights down at the wall, I laugh at the sound they make. Grabbing my clothes I start to get dressed. Making a face at the zipper that got me into trouble, I sneak a peek at the lateral machine. As I walk by the blasted thing, my hit sends the bar flying. I laugh at the sound of metal as it clangs. Giggling gleefully my heart light at getting away with not doing those exercises, I skip out the door.
Skipping through the Commons, pausing to drop a liquid soap capsule in the fountain. Elated at the thought of all those visiting trustees seeing the fountain in all its glory, I snatch open the door of our Dorm and race up the stairs. Dropping a smoke bomb in the stair well, giggling hysterically, I slow my pace to give me time to compose myself. It would do me no good at all to be seen by Herself in my current mood. Regulating my breathing as she taught me, remembering the night that she HAD to teach me to help me through the pain; I concentrate on placing one foot carefully in front of the other. No one passing me speaks. They know something’s up. Smothering another giggle as Natoli arches an eyebrow at me. She’s another brat in training; but she gets away with a lot more than I do. A sullen look crosses my face. I think that it’s not fair that she has it so easy. Her Mistress is so soft and loving and sweet and caring…
I pull up startled in our doorway; you have been standing there watching me. Under your hard gaze all bratty thoughts escape me. I blush deeply as if your eyes could read the depths of my soul. You take my hand and draw me inside. I fall to my knees out of pure guilt and it’s written all over my face, I begin the breathing exercises to relax facial muscles.
So deep in concentration am I that when your hand flies I do not see it. The sting as the side of my face explodes in radiating heat. I slump to the side hoping against hope to invoke your mercy. Your hand grabs my hair in a vise and lifts me. This time I see your hand raise and watch it fall in slow motion, your eyes capturing mine with no hope of reprieve. This time your hand connects with vicious savagery. A whimper escapes through my closed lips. Your hand guides my head by the hair to the corner, the disgrace place. I stand helpless, slumped, posture terrible.
Pain explodes across the backs of my thighs. I feel the welt rise instantly. “Stand up straight and ready your confession and apology, you miserable excuse for a slave,” you snarl. I hang my head as the butterflies begin dancing in my stomach. I wonder miserably how much you know or suspect. I cringe and press my forehead into the cool wall. I hear the door to the bath open and shut with a soft click. If I had missed it before, I knew now how furious you are at me. Tears well up instantly. I always attend you in your bath, and to be excluded is a knife in my gut. Intensely painful but not always fatal. I spend a few moments crying helplessly into the wall, wallowing in my self-pity. The water stops running and I hear your voice. I raise my head and listen intently.
The soft mummer of another’s voice answers you. A myriad of emotions well up inside me. I knew that I am not the only sub you train, but I have always been the favorite, the chosen one. I have watched you discipline others but no one has seen me put through my paces for your amusement or my punishment. Tears trickle down my face as I realize that will change today. I question my actions, wonder how much I’m going to tell you. Shivering and holding the wall for support I realize that my only hope is to tell you the complete truth, with out excuses or explanations, with out whining or pleading, and accept your punishment.
I stand in the corner and listen to the intermittent sounds of water, murmuring voices and soft laughter. I count the ripples in the stone in front of my face. I count my breaths as the knot in my stomach grows and hardens. I become frantic to confess every tick of the clock stretching and slowing down. The tears dry and become scratchy track down my face. It feels like I’ve been here forever and yet not long enough. Resentment for the sprite attending your bath grows in my breast, hating her for being where I want to be, hating myself for these unwarranted feelings. Seized by the determination to get through this gracefully, I begin breathing. Concentrating on drawing every breath form the bottom of my diaphragm and releasing it through flaring nostrils. “Grace,” I breathe over and over. When the door opens I jump a foot even though I’ve been trying to relax. The fact that it is not commented on brings fresh tears to my eyes. I have ceased to amuse you with my reactions. I strain my ears to hear you getting ready. The smell of perfume, the wisp of the hairbrush as it’s drawn the length and down, the settling of silk whispering intimacies as it caresses every curve. The curiosity consumes me, as the identity of your new sub remains unknown.
“Go Shower.” The sound of your voice shatters the silence. “No hot water.” I groan. But not even that is noticed. I remind myself, Grace, and walk quickly into the bath not shutting the door. Spinning the cold knob and gasping from the icy spray, I step into the shower. I rub and soap and shiver. Finishing as quickly as possible. I step from the shower, my ears straining for any sound.
The absolute silence stops my very breath. I rush out into the room to be met with the emptiness of a tomb. Falling to my knees, I bury my face in my hands and sob piteously.
I crawl, a wet sniveling mess to my pallet at the foot of your bad, in my misery curling into a fetal position. Wishing the world would end right now… in Your disfavor.
PART 4
I awake to feel a blindfold being adjusted to more secure position around my head. Still curled in a fetal position on my mat, I smile to think that you are back. But the hands that haul me to my feet are not yours. A trill of fear resonates through me. Feeling my hands roughly bound over my head, I’m left to sway, helpless and unsecured. What have you done to me? I strain my ears for any sound that would indicate Your presence; and find none. My nerves stretched to the breaking point, I jump at the first breeze. Thinking the door opened, tears fill my eyes as I realize that was the first blow of the cat. A brush of air, wielded by an unseen hand. Your absence causes tension in me. As the air becomes soft brushes, my mind begins the downward spiral into panic. Unable to control me breathing, I gasp for every slip of air. Tensing muscles, shivering, uncontrolled twitching. Needing you, badly needing you. At the first solid blow, (in reality, a blow I would normally purr receiving) I drag in the deepest breath I can, my lips forming the one word that will stop the insanity…
“Look at her. Not trusting me even now,” Your laugh stroking my nerves as the softest worn velvet. The spinning blackness of my world suddenly comforting and close. You are here. I feel your hand encircle my throat. The blindfold is ripped off and the adrenaline adjusts my eyesight quicker than normal. The room is not dim but not bright either. My heartbeat thuds a rhythm against your hand. Unable to look into your eyes and unable to look away, my confession, the words spill out, tumbling over one another in their attempt to be heard. Deep ragged breaths penetrate the fragmented sentences, and I realize I’m repeating myself, and I trail off, panting.
“I didn’t realize that you had time to be that busy, little one. I must correct that.” Your hand leaves my throat and the cool air taunts my neck. I watch you step back drilling me with your eyes. You nod. The first real blow of the cat falls across my shoulders. I arch into the pain and drop my head. You lift my chin with a single finger and peer into my eyes, imprisoning my soul. I accept and leave my gaze on you so you may observe my pain. The blows, unevenly spaced and varying in degrees swing my body one way, then another. After my shoulders have assumed a life of their own, heated, swelling and pulsing, She moves to my ass. She crosshatches stripes, quickly sparing no finesse. The same blows attack my thighs and I begin to dance. Looking to find mercy in the depths of your gaze, I beg you. Soundlessly with me eyes, I beg. Sweat drips down my body making the tile floor under my feet slick. I swing from my bonds everytime I lose my footing. You smile, amused by my struggles and my pleading.
“Mistress, please.” I whisper. “Please, Mistress… please.” I beg frantically as the whip begins stinging kisses on my calves. Seeing steel harden your gaze I drop my head. I feel more than see you walking around my hanging body. I relax completely, fearing your wrath.
<<Whhiiissssshh SLLAAAAAASSSSSSHHHHH>>
The first blow from your hand falls on my right shoulder, raising welts and striations. I gasp breath into my lungs to keep from crying out. Sneaking a glance over my shoulder to watch you raise your arm. Not realizing what terror that picture could invoke. I drop my head and screw my eyes shut.
<<WWHHHIIIISSSSSHhhhhh>> I think I hate the sound of your whip flying through the air. The tails connect with my other shoulder and wrap under my arm and over the top kissing my collarbone. And I know that’s a sound I despise.
“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHhhhhh” I pant. Dealing with the pain. White hot lines that obscure my vision.
<<SSSSSSLLLLLAAAAASSSSSSSSSHHHHHHH>>
Right across my ass and I jump. I draw breath deep and hold it; thinking if I don’t exhale it won’t hurt as bad.
<<<<SSSSSLLLLLAAAAASSSSSSSHHHHHH>>
You raise a set on my thighs. And the breath I was holding chokes me. I start to scream.
<<<<SSSSSLLLLLAAAAAAASSSSSSSHHHHHH>> the stroke to my calves cuts the scream off. My world explodes in red shimmering fireworks. I hang panting, choking, unable to breathe, think, or even be.
You glance at the corner of the room and the sprite lifts herself out of the corner and pours wine, serving beautifully. The very instance of her freedom makes my bondage and pain more real. Jealously rears and begins tearing at my stomach. You look at the stereo and at her. She follows direction perfectly and selects a CD and the Gregorian chants fill the punishment chamber. Absolute hate sits like lead in me, pure raw emotion floods in and tears me to pieces. To be here, in disgrace, and to have another pleasing you is too much to bear.
Strengthened by emotion, I lift my head, meet your eyes and challenge you. Our eyes lock and time ceases to exist. You lean back and casually prop on the desk, cross your legs at the ankles and you wait, smile playing at the corners of your mouth. Your whole attitude is one of acceptance. You have been here before your gaze tells me. And you have an eternity to wait for me to come to terms with my submission, or not.
For and eternity the only sound is that of my breathing. Later I will wonder about this but right now I don’t. I breathe and glare at you, willing you to glare back. Confront me. Challenge me, Damn you! Every particle of dust and time cease dancing in the continuum. Emotion drains out of me faster than the grains of sand through an hourglass. I drop heavily on the cuffs holding my wrists, totally wasted. Hair limp and sticking to the sweat and tears on my face, I roll my head to the side to breathe.
I hit the floor with a surprised squeak. Looking up at the scissors in your hand, I’m shocked that you’ve wasted a set of parachute cords. Ignominiously cut down as if the time it would take to free me would be time well spent somewhere else. I kneel and kiss the floor two inches in front of Your left toe. Not daring to speak, not even to thank you. I hear Your wineglass being set down, the faint clink of glass on a table. My senses flaring as I rely on my hearing to figure out what’s going on. I hear you kiss deeply. Not knowing whom. In agony and forgotten.
PART 5
A letter to my undeserving slave.
This crisis in your submission Elaina was unforeseen and ill timed. I knew that we would have this moment but for it to happen when I so wanted to show off my perfect one in her punished misery was disheartening and disappointing. Your confession was beautiful, touching. But the jealousy at sharing me and my attention was inexcusable. After cutting you down and watching your well-punished body hit the floor, I was overcome with the need to conquer you, crush you and make you totally mine. And as a result of these feelings, I took Diana, the goddess of the hunt, the Mistress that was flogging you, and seized her in my arms and plundered her mouth almost brutally. Forgetting you and the new one, (she doesn’t even have a name yet) we fell to the bed commencing a love that was animalistic. I’m sure you in your forgotten misery know exactly how long we made love before falling into a satiated sleep.
I hope the night’s long hours afforded you much time to contemplate what you want from me as well as yourself. And where you want to go with this relationship. For if we continue after tonight, things will change my precious one. You will begin a journey into yourself that will allow no deceptions. I will place two collars on the table when I leave this morning. One is public (the heavy silver chain) and one is private (the leather). When I return from class in the afternoon, you will let me know your decision by placing you at my feet, on your knees and presenting me with both. If I search your eyes, and your soul, and find the truth there, I will collar you and begin your journey.
Until then, precious one.
Chapter 6
As I awake, I’m aware of the cuffs still on my hands, the cut cords dangling and mocking. Looking around, the morning sun is streaming in and no one is here. Feeling alone and lonely, I begin getting ready for my first class. I strip off the leather and throw it across the room not caring about putting Your things away. I wonder if I should pack my things. Banishing this thought, as I know, if that had been Your intention you would have tossed me out last night. Wandering aimlessly around the room, picking up and straightening, I wonder what the day will bring. My heart stops as I see two collars and a letter propped on the desk. Shaking hands tear the envelope in their haste to reveal the contents. I read the letter over and over before the meaning comes clear to my mind. Excitement bubbles from somewhere near my stomach and threatens to burst forth in wild laughter. You’re collaring me. You want me. You aren’t throwing me out. Not believing my luck, I dance around the room holding the collars in my hands. Going to the mirror, I hold both up against my throat. Giggling, smiling a stupidly wide smile. I grab my books and start out the door for the first time seeing how bright and beautiful the day really is.
“I take it you’re happy.” Turning around I see my sister. The new one. I throw my arms around her and begin twirling ’round and ’round, giddily. Laughing and singing we fall on the bed, and straighten out the tangle of our arms and legs.
“You were beautiful last night, you know. I could not have borne it.” Her eyes turn a startling clear green. “I admire your courage.”
I make a rude sound at this. “If you only knew the terror, the absolute defiance I showed. I thought I would be moving out this morning,” I sober, remembering.
“She loves you. She will not let you go. You should have seen the look in Her eyes as She was punishing you last night. They were shining.” The serious look on the sprite’s face convinces me she’s serious. Too serious. A light brightens my face. And I lunge. Straddling her upper body I start tickling her mercilessly. Delighting in her laughter and squirms. Enjoying her struggles. She arches her back and throws me off of her. I fall on the bad still tickling her legs and feet. Shrieking as she finds my ribs and begin playing a tune. Gasping for breath, I reach up to grab elven hands and fend them off. The sounds of our joined laughter ringing in the room and down the hall.
DOWN THE HALL? Looking up, knowing something’s amiss, I look into my Mistress’ dancing eyes. Scrambling off the bed, Your bed, and falling to my knees, I press my forehead on the cool floor. Hearing movement beside me, I dart a glance to my left and see her doing the same. A soft reassuring smile plays at my mouth, knowing You are pleased and amused, and wanting to let my sister know this too.
“I’m glad to see you getting along.” I hear you walking around our bent forms. “And I know two little girls who are going to be late for class at this rate. Up now, and get going.
We jump up and scramble for our books and scoot for the door. Our exit is punctuated by a sharp slap to both our bottoms.
The day’s classes pass slowly. On none too few occasions am I admonished to be still or to pay attention. But I can’t. Even the class we share, I fidget and sigh and daydream my way through. Feeling Your amusement radiating over me. At the end of that class you corner me in the stairwell, press me up against the wall, and sandwich me with the length of your body. The sensation of being pressed against you is almost enough that I squirm, anxious for release, an orgasm.
“You can’t wait? Can you? For this afternoon.” You run the back of your hand down the side of my face. “My little one is excited. I can smell you, you know. Is there any doubt that you will be at my feet?” Your eyes drill holes in my soul and I am lost in the depths.
I blush furiously, and try to look away. Your hand wraps in my hair and forces me in place. My sex contracts and throbs in need.
“No Ma’am, no Mistress, no doubt. I will be there. I want nothing more.” The simplicity yet depth of my statement shakes me to the core. I know where I want this to go. Terrified and content, I try to make peace with the butterflies in my stomach. Trapped by your hand and my submission I watch your mouth descend and your lips softly kiss mine. The gentleness is more surprising than your usual brutality.
“Very well then, I shall prepare. See you after class, precious.” One blink and you are gone. Thank the goddess for the wall or I would have fallen to the floor. Pulling myself together I race to class, late as usual.
After the afternoon’s classes are over I decide to skip tennis practice and head right for our room. Only to find my racquet and gym bag outside the door and the door locked. Thinking it’s a good thing my outfit is in my locker in the gym, I fume all the way across the campus. And take my childish ire out on unsuspecting and uncomplaining balls.
Returning to our room, I feel gross and sweaty. Not at all like the perfect sub. But realizing that this was your wish I try to be graceful and resign myself to that fact. I run up the flights of stairs feeling the butterflies fighting. At the door I stop to savor my last moments of independence. As I reach to turn the doorknob, the sprite slips out like quicksilver and closes the door softly behind her. Her face is completely unreadable as she takes my gym bag and racquet and places them on the floor.
Untying a black silk scarf from around her neck she blindfolds me. Utter blackness comforts me as she opens the door and leads me inside. I smell complimenting aromas of her perfume (something applely) and the incense (rain) and Your musk. Every experience takes on a dream like quality. I’m led to the bathroom (?) Yes the bathroom. I stand patiently as I feel the elven one strip off my clothes. Every nerve seems more alive and receptive due to my closed off vision. Her hair brushes my collar bone and she turns to (?) Ahhhh… place my clothes on the chair. Goosebumps rise along my collarbone. I shiver under her soft hands as she presses me into the tub full of VERY warm water. Kneeling, I try to calm myself with breathing exercises as I feel my body being cleansed. Everywhere she touches me becomes hot and sends pulses into my core. The tenderness with which I am bathed causes me to sob in grateful arousal. At some point I’m lifted out of the water.
I feel her hands apply cosmetics to my breasts and to my nether lips. Shivering, my lips open to form a word of inquiry. The touch of her hand covering my mouth is electric. She presses a kiss into the palm of my hands as lotion is smoothed there. The brush stroking through my hair soothes me, makes me purr.
“I envy you.” The whisper thrills me. Am I about to receive answers? Can I speak? The need to voice something pulls me upright. And I hear a soft laugh.
“She said the sound of my voice would make you stand up straight. She’s right. Now, don’t lose it.” The Domme quality in the sprite’s tone stops me short and raises more questions. “Close your eyes and Do NOT open them.” I feel the blindfold being removed and my hair fluffed and brushed one last time. The blindfold settles back into place more securely. And I spin under your guiding hands. You grab both my wrists and silk secures them behind my back.
“You are as ready as will ever will be.” Ready for what, I wonder? The door opens. The elf leads me across the room and presses me down to my knees. The room has taken on a chapel like quality. My heightened senses pick out the shuffling and shifting, the breathing and heartbeats of numerous people. An instrumental version of Weber’s “Music of the Night” provides haunting threads of music.
I sense the presence of someone directly behind me, and almost instantly I am aware of hands on my shoulders. “I am going to remove the blindfold, but you must not start snapping your head back and forth trying to look at everything at one. Your Mistress will be mortified.” The voice is unknown. I nod acceptance and the blind is removed, as is the silk binding my hands. Looking at the floor aware of candlelight, I use my peripheral vision to acquire details. Mistresses with slaves at their feet. Food and drink being served. Music and soft conversation. And a pillow placed in between my knees with two collars placed on the deep blue velvet.
“Look at me, my precious.” Your boot comes into focus on the other side of the pillow. My gaze follows the white leather up to your tightly laced corset. A white velvet cape conceals Your breasts and falls in gentle folds around your feet. Your sex is exposed. A helpless vulnerable feeling washes over me seeing You in control, powerful. I ache to place my forehead on the floor at your feet but the cushion is in the way.
Your hand lifts my chin and our eyes meet and mate. You are apparently satisfied by what you find there in my soul because you pick up the silver collar, the chain.
“I hereby take you as mine. Henceforth, I will be responsible for you. To guide and discipline you. Your gift of submission has been accepted. And Will Be Cherished by all who witness it here. As a symbol of this commitment, this collar which will be worn by you at all times. It must be fastened by you, however. For this is the sign of your acceptance of Me. And once it is in place, the removal of it, either by you or Me is the sign that this commitment is broken. Do you understand the seriousness if this, little one?”
In response, as the music reaches a climax I pick up the silver collar and fixing my gaze on You, place it around my neck. Joy lights your face. You then pick up the leather and fasten it around my throat. I am pulled up into a trembling tight embrace. Tears flow. And the collective breath that the entire room has held is expelled into a triumphant cheer. Good wishes wrap us both in a warm place. A place where we’re alone, even in a room full of people.
The End (or not?)