Sleep eluded me. Shouldn't have surprised me, but teasing the hell out of Monique had teased the hell out of me. I was as randy as a billy goat. The warm bundle of cuddly femininity sleeping peacefully beside me tempted me sorely, but I decided to let her sleep. After my little vignette, coupled with the professional confrontations she had faced during the day, she was emotionally and physically exhausted. Besides, I probably could not have roused her anyway. So, smugly pleased with my success in helping her relax,(and confident that she would make it up to me later, anyway). I hugged her close and tried to convince certain rebellious parts of my anatomy to relax.
My dream was incredible and the last thing I wanted was to wake up, but my sudden, overwhelming orgasm left me no choice in the matter. A Monique-shaped lump hovering at my groin, beneath the bed covers proved beyond any doubt that I had not been dreaming. I only wished that I had been awake to enjoy more than just the climax.
She slid back up into my arms, making a show of smacking and licking her lips before she kissed me. "Breakfast of Champions, dear." She grinned impishly. "Thank you. For my ... ummmm... snack and for last night." She kissed me again, nearly strangling me with the hug about my neck. "You were marvelous, Nathan. I loved it."
I hugged her back, just as tightly. "I did, too, love. I love watching you shatter like that. Thank you for that."
We cuddled in the dark grey shadows of predawn. One thing lead to another and we were soon making frantic love to each other. Our coupling was like being in battle - hot, fierce, no quarter asked or given; each of us fighting to send the other into the surrender of orgasm first.
Thanks to Monique's oral loving, the hard edge of my arousal had been dulled. I won, but not by much. Her orgasm's spasmodic gripping of my cock drove me over the edge and I spewed into her with a few, final thrusts.
The alarm clock's electronic peel found me still sheathed in her warm depths. She kissed me again. "Good morning, Master Nathan." I must have grimaced because she caught it right away. "What is the matter?"
"Could you not call me that? It ..... well, it makes me very uncomfortable." I muttered out, then remembered to say "Please."
I started to pull away, but she held me to her. "Of course I won't if it bothers you, dear. Not if you don't like it. But you did very well last night. I enjoyed myself hugely, and I called you that as a way to let you know how much. For your first scene as a top, it was surprisingly imaginative and well done. You are a great tease for a mere male, lover, I caught myself blushing several times. You quite had me going, Nathan."
"Thanks." I tried to roll away again, in an attempt to escape this atta-boy session she had started off on, but Monique held on and I found myself flat on my back with her astride me, glaring down at me.
"Okay, Evans, Give. What is bothering you? That I enjoyed bottoming to you? Or that you enjoyed topping me?"
"Neither of those. Both were wonderful. It was fascinating to watch your reactions, to see you so responsive to the slightest nuance of sensation. You were marvelous." I turned my head away, not wanting to pursue this any further. Monique, bless her heart, was having none of that and tipped my chin back up to look at her again. Her hair fell around us, curtaining our faces in a little private world.
"Not good enough, Evans." she sang quietly before kissing my nose. "What is bugging you?"
"If you must know, I am a bit ashamed." Her eyes went wide and I realized how that must have sounded. "No, not of what we did." I hastened to add. "Of what I had planned to do."
"What was that, Nathan? It can't have been all that terrible. I checked your toy bag. No whips, no paddles, no crops, no clips - nothing in there that could have caused me the slightest hurt. Not even any decent restraints, although what you did was pretty good. Out with it, man, and let's get over this over with and behind us."
"I wanted to force you to fail. I wanted you to either safeword or break position and masturbate to your own release. I wanted you to see some of how I felt. I wanted to arouse you and tease you, until you were beyond control, then watch you disobey or code word. I hoped you would code word, then I could say that I accepted yours. It was petty, I know, and in the end, I love you too much to do that, but I am still ashamed that I even started to do it."
She relaxed on me, letting her body mold to the length of mine, hugging every inch of me. "It still bothers you, doesn't it, Nathan? You have said you forgive me for not recognizing your safe word, and I believe you, but it still bothers you." I did not answer. She understood that as an answer, in and of itself. "Okay, I offer you restitution, Nathan. You set the scene, you set the rules, you set the limits, and I will be there. You want to go back to San Francisco, and whip me in front of my friends in Ruth's Dungeon? My friends will help you, if you wish. If I ask, they will even train you to use the whatever implements you want. They could also play Dungeon Mistress for you, acting as a safety net for us if you don't feel ready to completely see to my safety during the beating."
For a moment, I was dumbfounded, actually speechless at that offer, because there was no doubt in my mind that it was genuine. Then, I cringed at her matter-of-fact use of the word "beating", particularly in the context of me raising my hand to her. It took a moment for all that to sink in, but finally reason prevailed and I shook my head. "No, I think the one lesson we both need to take from this is that no real punishment or restitution is done with this thing of yours. Real anger, real hurts would pervert the interplay and dynamics between us. I think we keep moving on, dear. Perhaps, one of these days, I will take you up on that offer of training." I grinned. "Maybe part of your problem is that Sondra is not here often enough."
"My problem? Ha! We will see about that." She rolled off me and started to stand, but stopped, still kneeling on the edge of the bed. "Seriously, Nathan. I think it would be good for both of us, for you to understand more of the other side of the whip, if you will. How to do it, is the question. You are not experienced enough to read a submissive, so it can't be me unless someone else is involved to help. Jennifer, perhaps?" Her face went thoughtful for a moment, and then lit into a smile. "I know! Rosiebottom is due to get her bottom rosied up again. You can help! Roselie will love squirming over your lap, and you can get a little back for all that teasing she laid on you when you were strapped."
The mental picture of that voluptuous, cuddly little blond, all bare and shivery, her round pink buttocks winking up at me as she laid across my knees, seared across my brain. I looked at Monique and swallowed hard when the image of a busty petite towhead on my lap was suddenly replaced with an even more vivid picture of a tall, athletically sleek redhead in the same position. Did I really want to spank women; to strike their bare asses with my hand,? More to the point, did I want to spank my woman? No other answer fit, and I slowly nodded my assent. "She will enjoy it?" I asked carefully. "I mean, she won't be doing it just because you told her to let me? She really will want to do this with me?"
Monique laughed. "She will love it! Just wait - the little darling will cum so many times over your lap, you'll think she's peed herself on you. Come on. We have to get busy. Today is Thanksgiving, and we have a turkey to roast. Race you to the shower." She scampered off to the bathroom, and I took off in hot pursuit.
I never knew how sexy cooking could be.
It was Saturday night and I was exhausted and drained in the way that only sensory and emotional overload can tire a man. In the sweetly perfumed dark of Monique's bedroom, I was surrounded by the humid warmth of sated woman. I rested between Monique and Roselie, their heads resting on my respective shoulder; each had draped a leg and an arm over me. Soft snores lulled me in stereo. They were exhausted, too, and yet, for all the fatigue, I could not yet let go of the day or the intensity of its experiences or its lessons.
Snatches of images flitted about my sleep fogged mind.
The memory of Monique's initial scene with Roselie. Taking her down to the Inquisition Room, and binding her to the spanking block. Stripping her of her clothes with scissors and finding fault with everything. Dirty clothes, ratty underwear (well, after Monique and her scissors got done with them, they certainly were), stubble on her pussy, sloppy makeup were just some of the faults Monique added to Roselie's list of failings. Watching Roselie's head droop as Monique mockingly described each imperfection, each failure to meet the standards that were expected of her submissive. I had viewed that session on the video monitor in the hidden control room, and for a moment, had worried that Roselie really was upset by Monique's scathing litany of negligence on her part, but then Monique had teasingly run her finger down the crack of her friend's puss. If the lubrication glistening in the harsh lights did not tell the truth of it, Roselie's shuddering groan of pleasure certainly did. Roselie was getting off on the humiliation of having her failures described so coldly.
The words and images of Monique telling Roselie that she was too disappointed to carry out the required punishment, that she would have to ask someone else to do it. Roselie's surprise, then momentarily gleeful look, when I entered the room dressed only in my jeans. Monique positioning Roselie "just so" over my lap. My first, few tentative swats that made Rosie giggle. "She is a woman, Nathan, not a baby. She can't even feel those. If her fanny isn't pink after the first swat, you won't get to the seat of the problem." Monique smacked her loudly across the right cheek, leaving a bright, dark pink, outlines of her fingers. "Match that on the left, Nathan. When you get that color, you have it right and we can start her actual punishment." It took me three more tries. Hitting women, even with their consent is unnatural to me. Once I got into the rhythm, I was able to keep up the force only by concentrating hard on what I was doing. Roselie surprised me, too - she really did climax from being spanked, at least once, maybe even twice.
Reliving the emotion of seeing and feeling Roselie's backside when it was bright red from the top of her ass to the center of her thighs, when Monique finally decided we had done enough. Frankly, I don't know if I could have continued anyway - I was feeling more than just a little bit guilty and a lot arm weary. Monique had ordered Roselie to dress in the clothes she would find in the next room and then join us upstairs. When she joined us, she was in a blue latex body suit (that had to be at least three sizes too small in the bosom for the well endowed little blond) that left her arms, legs and fanny bared. "So that any further transgressions can be dealt with easily without stripping her.", according to Monique, "and besides, the blue sets off the bright red of her tush so nicely, don't you think, Nathan?". Matching heels showed off her superb legs. Over the course of the afternoon, Roselie became fidgety, restless and flushed. Monique had her kneel in front of her chair and began to fondle Roselie's latex entrapped breasts. The response she got was incredible considering how gently Monique was touching her. Roselie almost keeled over, groaning. "Little cilia, Nathan, little fingers constantly kneading and pinching her tits and nipples. When we squeeze them, every little nerve ending wakes up again. It is like wearing thousands of tiny tittie clamps all over her lovely boobs." When Monique turned her attentions to the Rosie's groin, the little blond did fall over in a climax of such intensity that there was little doubt where else the cilia were in that suit. Orgasming without permission earned Rosie another spanking, this time by Monique. "Your bottom was losing its' color, anyway darling."
The erotic picture of Roselie preparing and serving dinner for us. There were only two settings at the table, and I asked Monique about Roselie. She gave me a wicked smile. "She only eats what you feed her today, Nathan, from your plate."
Hand feeding a woman who is kneeling at your feet is a very ... unsettling experience, particularly when the woman is very careful and fastidiously licks your fingers clean for you after each morsel. You begin to feel things that you have been taught, or perhaps brainwashed, to believe are not appropriate or socially acceptable. It was an incredibly disconcerting feeling. And just for a moment, I thought of Monique kneeling there, and not Roselie.
The intensely hedonistic sensation of Roselie, her cute little body all bare and cuddly, "assisting" my bath while her performance was evaluated by Monique. Monique seated herself comfortably on the side of the huge, hedonistic tub with her toes doing incredible things to my groin, while I was surrounded by bubbles that hid Roselie as she dove and played in the tub. She scrubbed and cleaned places on my body with fervor and delight that I have not had cleaned by another person since I was three or four years old. The pleasure of lying back in the hot water, my head pillowed between two soft breasts, and having my hair washed and scalp massaged was heavenly. And the hot water made Rosie's bottom even rosier.
Strangely, considering the intensity and eroticism of the our play together, I had not had a single orgasm the entire course of that incredible day. Both women had - several times each as a matter of fact. Until we got into the tub, I had not even taken off my (progressively tightening) jeans. Once in bed, however, that changed very quickly. As "Mistress of Ceremonies", Monique had claimed my cock, and had proceeded to seat herself regally on it, while positioning Roselie over my mouth. In the course of what was one of the most demanding nights of lovemaking in my life, I climaxed twice, once in Roselie's mouth, once in Monique's hot depths. Frankly, I was awed by their capacity for orgasmic pleasure as each of them came three more times before we fell into an exhausted heap.
So, there I was, lying awake, savoring the memories of two lovely women, whose number one priority was my pleasure. Lying awake, trying to deal with the emotions of nagging guilt and uncertainty that had sprouted and then grown stronger through the day's rougher play and spankings.
That Roselie had loved every single bit of what was done with her and to her, was not in question. That I had enjoyed most of Monique's carefully orchestrated introduction to "the other side of the whip" raised several questions that I did not particularly want to face.
First was that I had enjoyed spanking Roselie. Years of martial training and many games of handball had hardened my hands until they were almost like boards. Tomorrow, or was it today, when Roselie got out of bed, her fanny would be bruised, and I had done that to her. My personal image of myself as a care giver was warring with the memory of the excitement of feeling hot satiny flesh, quivering and arching into my palm. Was this just another way of caring for a woman, admittedly, a very special woman, or was that view of things just my conscience trying to rationalize, trying to justify the intensely erotic rush I had felt while dominating Roselie?
The second big question was one of 'morality'. I had just had a wonderful night of sex - no, not sex. It was lovemaking - with two women, both loving and wonderful, both willing, both excited and exciting - but I was planning to marry one of them. I had grown up in the era of "The Harrad Experiment", but had never seriously considered participating in such a relationship. Would Monique expect to include Roselie in our future relationship? Ha! Would she even countenance a future without Roselie? Not bloody likely. So where did that leave Nathan Evans' idea of an old fashioned "she and me" type marriage? Perhaps another, more pertinent question would be did I even want that type of marriage if someone like Roselie could be a permanent part of our life?
Finally, and most disconcerting, were the recurring visions that put Monique into those scenes, taking Roselie's place in each little game we had played that day: Monique in a pink latex body suit (to set off her auburn hair) with her nipples and breasts in constant torment; Monique over my knee arching her bottom to meet my swats; Monique on her knees, licking gravy from my fingers while her head rested in my lap just millimeters from my painfully erect penis; Monique tied over the spanking block, her gorgeous ass and woman's mound displayed and available. Just the thought of Monique in those situations brought resurgent life to my exhausted cock with a vengeance. Was this where our future relationship was heading? Flip a coin at bedtime and loser takes all - all that the winner wanted to dish out, that is.
Certainly, both Monique and Roselie took great joy and pleasure from being together and from being on the receiving end. I had watched Roselie climax twice, maybe even three times that day during a spanking or a paddling without any other fondling or caresses. For her part, Monique had been emphatic about the pleasure she derived from being dominated by Sondra. Surely then, satisfying that need, that aspect of these two incredibly warm, loving women was a critical part of taking care of them? Of taking care of the total woman? And if that was true, how could I be husband to Monique if I did not fulfill her in that manner? The word "husband" means care giver, after all. And if I was going to accept that responsibility, certainly it would be all to the good if I could enjoy doing it, too? And if I was care giver to one of this pair, could I be less to the other? Without a doubt, those two women loved each other and coming between them would subtract from, not add to Monique's life.
Tiredly, I shook my head. This was becoming more than my depleted resources could handle. I had not played these games with Monique on the receiving end. It might very well be something I could not do with her. And it did nothing to solve my other, continuing problem of how to deal with Monique's dominant and somewhat sadistic Mistress persona when she turned that side of herself at me.
A sharp pinching bite on my right ear broke my reveries. "You should be sleeping, lover." Monique's sleep husky voice whispered into my ear. Her hand slipped down and gripped what the fantasies of her submitting to me had developed. "Well, I can see what the problem is." Her hand gave a deft twist and I almost arched off the bed as she nibbled on my neck.
Roselie stirred on my left. "Mmmmm.. What is it?" she mumbled muzzily.
"What is it? It is what you did not finish, Rosiebottom. Nathan is still unsatisfied."
Roselie's hand joined Monique's on my burgeoning shaft before slipping down to cup my testicles as she buried her face into the crook of my neck. "Mmmmmm... wonderful. I was having such a lovely dream, but this is even better."
"Well, get down there and get it nice and slick, sweetie. Do a good job, too, because you will need it. Your punishment for falling asleep without finishing your work is to take him in your ass." Obviously, this did not sound very fearsome fate to Roselie who squealed with delight as she fell mouth first on my cock as Monique swallowed my groan of pleasure in her kiss. "Roselie!" Monique's sharp order snapped my eyes open. "We want to watch you loosen your asshole while you suck him." Roselie turned her bottom to us. While Monique teased at my nipples with her teeth, I stared as first one, then two and finally three of Roselie's fingers slipped into the small pink pucker of her rectum. "That's good enough, Roselie. Get on him. Now!"
Monique held me upright, as Roselie mounted astride me, then slipped me into the incredibly tight and hot center of her ass. That was the last thing I saw because for the second time that night, I had a woman riding my cock as another rode my tongue. Monique came first, grinding her vulva into my mouth, followed by me and Roselie. Sleep did not elude me this time.
The bed moved, waking me. Once I started to wake up, I became aware of something tickling my nose. Monique had fallen asleep still straddling my face and the fine hairs of her pubis were teasing my nose. I shifted my head slightly to ease the tickle and saw Roselie up, quietly getting dressed. She saw me move and put a finger to her lips. Bending over, carefully so as to not disturb Monique, she kissed me on the forehead and whispered "Have to leave, Nate. Dinner at Mom's this noon and I need to go. It was lovely. You have wonderful hands." She kissed me again before slipping out the door. I hugged Monique closer to me and fell back to sleep.
I woke next to the smell of rich coffee. One eye cracked open to see Monique waving a steaming mug under my nose. "Welcome back to living, stud. Figured you might need some caffeine stimulation after your performance yesterday." She was wearing that evil grin of hers and nothing else.
I took the mug from her and sipped the hot, aromatic brew. "Yeah, well, I had great inspiration."
"It was good, wasn't it." It was a statement, not a question and I nodded. "You did enjoy yourself, didn't you?" Now she sounded uncertain, in need of reassurance. "I mean, you weren't grossed out by our games?"
I gave a bark of laughter. "Monique. I had three orgasms in the span of six hours. I have not done that very often since I passed my teens. If I was grossed out, my hormones didn't know it. No, I think you can say I definitely enjoyed myself."
As always, Monique heard more than the words and a frown darkened her features. "But, there is more, isn't there? Something is bothering you about our play yesterday." Her brow furrowed as she peered into my soul, then her eyes went wide with discovery. "You're feeling guilty! You enjoyed yourself, but now, you are feeling guilty because you are not sure you should have liked spanking a warm, round female fanny. That is it, isn't it, Evans?" Her tone was accusatory.
"Part of it, anyway, Monique." and I proceeded to reprise for her my ruminations of the night. To her credit, she listened without comment, without protest. "And so, I am faced with knowing that I want, or think I want to have that kind of power over you, with knowing that I cannot, in all fairness to you and to Roselie, have the classic marriage I used to think I wanted, and with the thought that I am not averse to sharing a life with both of you if I can have you. I am not sure what you wanted me to learn yesterday, but I must tell you, I learned many things I did not know."
Monique smiled, a soft, loving smile that warmed my soul. "I would say you got the lesson, Nathan. Thank you for understanding how important Roselie is to me. I don't know if I could give her up and I am glad that I no longer have to worry about that. As to you wanting to dominate me, as I said before, I am agreeable, enthusiastic, even. You would need training, but we can arrange that easily enough. Maria would be happy to help, as would Jennifer. Sondra would love to have you as a student, although she does insist on topping all her students, and you said you would not do that. My friend Ruth in San Francisco is a wonderful teacher and she would be happy to help us, too. I would love to be able to switch with you. 'Taking care of the total woman.'" she tried the phrase out and smiled. "That is exactly right, Nathan, and that means give as well as take."
She stopped for a moment to take a drink from her own cup. "Now that you have had the experience, now that you have tasted the submission of another, do you better understand my domme side? Do you begin to see the gift that your submission is to me? Can you feel the exultation and excitement that type of power over you brings me? Does that help you? Does it make the submission I ask of you more palatable and potentially pleasurable for you?"
"Parts of it, Monique. I can see places where submitting to you might be better, more fun. 'Forced sex' games, some of the sexier role playing, even some of the spanking games are clearer for me now, and I can handle those. Cross dressing," I grimaced, "Well, those are okay. Your excitement makes those games, not what they give me. But some of the other, the heavy corporal stuff." I shook my head. "Spanking Roselie turned me on, I cannot deny it, but knowing she is leaving with bruises I inflicted on her keeps eating at me whenever I think about it."
"Then don't think about that. Think about how much she loved it because you did it for her." Monique cut in passionately.
I held up my hand for quiet. "I understand, love. I think I can live with it because of just that." Monique blushed and grinned at my pointed stare. "The problem is, Monique, I cannot imagine anyone taking your strap or your whip, or anyone else's for that matter, when you mean it. Not taking it and liking it. I know that you took it easy on me with the strap, and that you and Roselie planned the oral loving to counterpoint the strapping. It worked. But what about folks who don't have that distraction? Who just take it, full up and by itself? I don't understand that. I don't understand some of the games that take someone out and put them at risk of discovery in some humiliating situation? I know it works for them. It must from everything I have read, but it does not compute to me. So, the question is? Where do we go, Monique? Was yesterday enough? Can we play the games as we have the last few weeks, at the level we played them, and satisfy you? What was it you said? Oh, yes. Exalt you?"
Monique was very quiet for several minutes. I let the silence pass, not wanting an immediate answer badly enough to accept a bad, not completely thought out answer.
"Nathan, the exultation comes from knowing that as my sub, you are doing it for me. It comes from the knowledge that you could simply leave and end it, at any time. The power to leave always resides with the submissive. When he or she does not leave, when he or she continues to trust me and continues to give me the power to control their bodies, to control their pain, to control them, well, that is an incredible, inestimable gift for any dominant. In most cases, the submissive is there for the gifts that the dominant returns. The gift of being the sole focus of all that dominant's attention and powers. The gift of acceptance, the gift of caring that goes beyond the normal and the accepted. I am not sure I can explain it better than that, Nathan. There are needs in a submissive that only a dominant can answer and vice versa."
I thought and shook my head. I had not found those needs in me, not when the play became deep. And I knew that the level of play she had limited herself to of late would not be enough. She needed more, and my ability to provide that, to accept what was to come was another question I had no answer for. "Maybe, but I still don't see how anyone can enjoy a real whipping. How can anyone find pleasure receiving that kind of treatment?" I shook my head in confusion more than denial. "As foreplay, or in conjunction with sex play, like the strapping with Roselie, that I am beginning to understand, but to simply take a beating. I don't get it." I shook my head again. "And I don't know that I could ever give you that gift, Monique. I don't know that I would not have to leave."
"I see." Monique's voice was little above a whisper. She took my cup and left the room without a backward glance. I started to get up to follow her. What more could I say? I did not really know, but I had to say or do something.
Before I could get out of the room, though, she returned with both our cups topped off. Her face was grave when she handed me my cup. "Nathan. I do understand what you have said just now, and I also understand that it was completely honest. I have a proposal for you. It may help, or it may not, I don't know. It may help you understand some of what is bothering you. I want you to see some people who do enjoy exactly the things you have just questioned. For real and up close. It may not help you as far as you personally taking a whipping or..." her face soured, "as you called it, a beating. But I want you to understand that I am not some heartless bitch who inflicts pain in order to enjoy and get off on someone else's suffering. I want you to see people accepting pain and taking pleasure from it."
I quirked an eyebrow. "How, Monique? Are you going to bring in some of your old clients and give a demonstration?"
Monique practically snarled. "No, dammit! I would not do that to them and besides, I am not going to be involved in any of the scenes. I want this to be others. There is a party on Friday, at a facility jointly maintained by several of the D/s and leather groups in the area. There will be open play by members and some special demonstration events of the type you were just discussing. I had planned to give it a pass, but now, well, at least you can see others doing what I have done to you."
"I do not want to be made a spectacle of, Monique. If I have to take a 'turn', then it is no deal."
She shook her head. "You have my word, Nathan. No play. I will stand by you the entire time and help you understand and deal with what you see, but at no time will you or I participate or play. Besides, I would not want you to lose it in public with me as your domme. I have an image to maintain." She said that in a snooty, nose up attitude intended to make me smile.
"So I don't go as a submissive. That is easy." But Monique merely shook her head.
She shook her head. "Can't. Rules are that all first timers go as a submissive under the supervision of an active member who acts as their dominant and tour guide." She hurried on to stave off my immediate refusal to participate. "There are several very good reasons for that rule, Nathan. Truly, that rule is meant to be a good thing for everyone involved. First, it makes sure that we don't get any clueless wannabes floating around pretending to be knowledgeable dominants. People, particularly inexperienced submissives, get hurt that way. This way we ensure that every new member is vouched for by a member already in good standing. Secondly, the dominant is responsible for the behavior and emotional well being of the first timer. If a particular scene gets too heavy for the first timer, or if the first timer simply can't handle what is going on in general, the responsible member calms him or her down, or gets them out. Finally, the responsible member is accountable to the group for that person's behavior after the introductory visit. If someone hurts another member due to negligence or some other offense, then the member who put that person up may also be called to account if it is something that should have been known from the start."
She looked at me to see if I was taking this in. I tried to keep my face neutral. She shrugged. "So, if we go, you have to be collared and leashed to me for the duration of the party. The only time I can let go of your leash is if I give it to another established member. That person becomes responsible for your well being in my absence. That also means that person could scene with you. The only other time I release the leash is when you go to the men's room, and then I must wait for you until you come back out."
I looked at her. Her eyes were begging me to agree. I exhaled slowly. "No one else touches that leash, Monique." She nodded, hope filling her eyes. "And we don't play. I don't kneel, I don't pretend to be submissive to any other person, none of that. Anybody tries any mind games on me.." I left the possible consequences of that hanging.
"Gets firmly reminded of my rights as your domme and is told to leave you alone." She added quickly. She gave me a disgusted look when I frowned. "I can't tell them you are not my sub, Nathan. You would be asked to leave as a voyeur. Many first timers don't play, Nathan, that is understood, but the relationship of domme and sub must be maintained between us."
"In this case, Monique, the semblance of the relationship. I am not going to submit. Period. Not even to any of your little teasing or mind games. You have to be straight with me on this."
Worry lines showed around her eyes. She had not liked the way I had put that, but finally, she nodded. "No submission required, Nathan, and no games." she shuddered delicately. "Especially those type of games. I agree. I will be as circumspect with you as a nun. You will go?"
I nodded. "I don't know if it will help, love, but I will go."
The promise to go to this 'party' hung over me like a cloud. No matter what I tried, I could not forget that I had agreed to go. I wanted to trust Monique on this, but there was still that niggling tickle of doubt. Would she be able to resist the hunger to play? Could she resist with all of those other people doing their thing while she was bound by her word not to play? I thought she would. Every time the unworthy thought clicked in my mind, my rational self, combined with the part of me that loved her fought back the doubt. But every time I relaxed, I was fighting the battle again. God, but I would be glad when it was over. Gladder still if it got called off.
I considered safewording the thing. First, because I really did not want to go, and secondly, to see if it would work this time. Unworthy of me, I know, but it probably was the source of my misgivings about the event.
I was so consumed by this, that I forgot about Wednesdays until Wednesday morning. I was at work, wearing jockeys (fortunately women's jockeys, so I was not completely out of order) instead of some frilly, intensely feminine creation designed to tempt the Mistress. With no other avenue open, I pulled my clean pair out of my gym bag and wrapped them in some of the company wrapping paper we kept around the office and awaited the inevitable.
It did not go well. She found them inadequate (they were not new, after all, and they were also stained). I spent the day depantied with a well warmed tush. That night, Monique decided that since I could not even keep my underwear suitably clean, she would give me a lesson in the care of lingerie.
I hand washed first my, then her underwear from the day, "pretreating" the particularly soiled areas with saliva to "help break down the complex molecules" before washing. Once everything was cleaned to Monique's satisfaction, she strung a clothesline from a towel rod over her bathtub, handing me the loose end. She then put leather cuffs on my ankles and thighs and had me kneel on the floor beside the tub. Chains connected my thigh cuffs to the ankle cuffs and I was locked into a kneeling position. She handed me the loose end of the line and told me to hold it tight. She filled the tub with hot water and added a small packet of powder to it.
"Watch this, Nathan." She took one of my white exercise socks from the clothes hamper and put it on her hand. Then, she stirred the contents of the steaming tub with the gloved hand. When she pulled her hand out, the sock was deep blue. "Dye, Nathan. Anything cloth that touches that will be indelibly, unalterably blue. Now, turn around, and face away from the tub, but do not let the line go slack." She then took spring clothespins and began hanging the lingerie I had just cleaned on the line. I felt each waterlogged piece go on the line, adding to the tension in the line.
The last two pieces from the sink were the pair of semi-transparent white stockings she had worn that day. "Nathan, raise your arms more, I need room above the water to hang the stockings." I did, and instantly felt the strain on my arms and shoulders increase with the greater height.
Monique came from behind me to stand directly in front of me. My face was at the same level as her mons. Her hand lifted my chin and I looked up between the vee of her breasts. "You will hold up my clothesline until my stockings and my teddy are dry, Nathan. Unless, of course, you stain any of my clothes. Then you will be here until everything dries, trying to suck the stain out of whatever you have ruined." She bent down and kissed me passionately on the lips and I almost lost hold of the line. "Ah ah, lover. Hold on tighter than that. Oh, I almost forgot. I had more than I needed and I don't want to misplace them." Clothespins closed over my nipples, earlobes, biting the skin of my thighs and abdomen, and finally two bit into the skin of my scrotum and one more on my foreskin. "Be good now, and I will be back from time to time to check out how the drying is coming."
When I was finally released, the clock showed that I had been like that for almost an hour and a half. Monique had checked on me at least four times that I knew of, including twice when she demanded that I lick her and bring her to orgasm while holding up that damned line. I think she had snuck a hand onto the line during those little interludes, because the stress on my arms had seemed to lessen while I was orally worshiping her. Or maybe it had simply been the adrenaline rush that comes from bringing my woman to pleasure that did that, I don't know. Still, whatever it had caused those momentary respites, it had not been enough to keep lactic acid from burning into every muscle fiber in my arms, shoulders and upper back. I had fought off two bouts of circulation loss by alternating arms to hold up the line while I shook life back into the other. When she finally took the line from me, my arms simple fell to my sides, refusing any mental command to move. Not even the rush of pain from the removal of the pins was enough to move the arms.
Monique drained the dye and washed the tub before settling me into the tub for a wash and a jacuzzi. Tenderly, she washed me and massaged the painfully strained muscles while the hot bubbles worked on aching knees, elbows and wrists. "That was incredible, Nathan. I never thought you would hold out that long. I was certain I would get to punish you tonight. Your will power and determination are fantastic." She was breathless she was so excited. "That is one reason I want to domme you so badly! You have the capacity to accept so much, to give me so much. And you do it for me. God, if you could only learn to do it for yourself as well, the places we could take each other."
That setup went into the book of D&S experiences and experiments as a great punishment, but a lousy bondage foreplay scene. In fact, I had to console and reassure Monique who was a wreck emotionally when the full consequences of the night became clear. Not even Monique's wonderful mouth could coax an erection out of me that night. The hurts from the strained, pulled and oxygen starved muscles was too distracting. We spent the night holding each other. Me, comforting her emotional distress. She, massaging sore and aching muscles, and whispering over and over her litany of pride in my ears.
As she fell asleep, I kept thinking of the difference in how the two of us felt. Personally, I was dealing with a few nagging hurts, but certainly nothing worse than I had inflicted on myself many times in my days as a collegiate wrestler, while she was practically glowing over how well "I had done". Was this really any different from that first, embarrassing and furtive taste of cunnilingus? For several years, that had been something I had just 'done' because it was 'expected' and fair trade - quid pro quo for what my lover was willing to do for me. Then, at some point in my maturation, the woman's pleasure became at least, if not more important than my own, and my own enjoyment of taking her with my mouth grew by orders of magnitude. The power to please a woman with my tongue, to see her completely lose control under my lingual kiss was intoxicating, nearly orgasmic in and of itself.
Would that be enough to finally reconcile this desire of hers to dominate me? Once again, she had made her own pleasure in this night's activities very clear, and the more she praised me for my part in it, the better I felt about do it. I thought again about a life without her, and hoped that what I had learned tonight would be enough to keep that future possibility from ever happening.