Crafting Submission

Crafting Submission: A Tale of Dominance and Desire

"Excuse me, Mistress. You summoned me?" I stammer, shyly gazing into the spacious, luminous office adorned with expansive windows. My palms, slick with anxiety, clutch the leather handle of my bag, which I cradle against my petite chest as though it's my most treasured possession. Without awaiting a response, I venture into the office... and halt at the entrance, sealing the door behind me with my heel, incapable of progressing further.

My glorious Mistress is situated behind her desk, the embodiment of elegance and authority as always, perusing documents, endorsing contracts, and altering fates without a hint of remorse. The evening sun casts its warm golden hue on her divine countenance, accentuating her features and casting imposing, elongated shadows. My Mistress exudes an irresistible sexual authority, her blonde hair flawlessly swept back, adorned in her white silk blouse and high-waisted black trousers.

Without casting her gaze upon me, she instructs me curtly, sighing, "Enter, Tanya." Following this, she lifts her stern, yet captivating eyes - eyes that I'd willingly crawl on my knees for - and surveys me expectantly from my shoes, to my legs, and finally the bag in my grasp.

With hesitant steps, I approach her desk, sensing her commanding gaze scrutinizing me from head to toe. Every aspect of my demeanor and appearance accentuates the chasm of superiority between us. I'm clad in a simple blue office mini-dress, my hair meticulously tied back.

Exhaling deeply, my illustrious Mistress finally sets aside a stack of papers on her desk, and her icy blue eyes meet mine. "Tanya," she commences in a low, disappointed tone, "you've been a naughty girl, and you're well aware of it."

An icy thrill of anticipation courses down my spine, and my heart hammers in my chest. "Yes, Mistress," I whisper, my gaze fixed on my shoes, attending to her every word. "Initially, you pleased me, you appeared more competent than your clueless counterparts, demonstrating eagerness in your servitude. But you've proven to be slow, clumsy, a distraction to yourself and others with your antics. Take my recent order, for instance..." I internalize her every utterance. Her words lash at my bruised ego, affirming her superiority.

As she continues, my eyes are drawn to the top buttons of her blouse, incapable of meeting her gaze. The pristine fabric conceals her radiant skin. The blouse's collar fastens snugly around her graceful neck... Oh, if only she knew the depths of my fantasies. I yearn to taste the delicate skin that lies beneath... "Are you even attending to me, Tanya?!!" Her unexpected interruption startles me out of my reverie.

My eyes dart to her mesmerizing brown eyes: "Yes, Mistress, I... um," I stutter, uncertain of my response, and opt to vocalize the thoughts that have been circulating in my mind for the past few moments. "I was merely pondering, um... perhaps if you were to undo the top few buttons... Just three or so... It would underscore your... dominance?" My suggestion sounds ludicrous, even to my own ears.

My Mistress looks at me, squinting one eye. A disbelieving laugh escapes her lips, "That's funny, Tanya. Are you serious? I'm discussing important things here, your future life, and whether it could even be called a life! Lord, what buttons!" She dismisses the thought as effortlessly as swatting away an annoying fly, a swift flick of her immaculately manicured fingers, adorned with rings, silencing the room. "As a submissive, I'd say you are completely out of line! I'm even considering..."

*"As a submissive, I'd say"* -- those words ignite a bold idea within my mind. Naughty fantasies of my Mistress on her knees begin to bubble up. However, as her voice gains momentum again, I dare to interrupt, my voice a timid murmur against her power, "Actually, Mistress, I... I think that if you unbutton the entire blouse... then... maybe... you would appear even more... authoritative?" My own audacity leaves me breathless; my heart beats a wild tattoo in my chest, its rhythm louder to me than the ticking of the London timepiece gracing the wall.

"So," she begins, and a shiver of dread courses through me at the loaded implications behind that solitary word. Her fingers make a deliberate journey to the top button of her blouse. "This behavior is entirely unsuitable for your station." The button surrenders to her touch, revealing just a tantalizing glimpse of her tender, immaculately cared-for neck. "You come here, seeking me to take you under my wing and guide you." The second button follows the first, offering a glimpse of a delicate constellation of small moles on her chest. "And you have the audacity, here in my office, to advise me on how to be a Mistress?!" With each punctuating word, her fingers furiously work on the third button, then her hands forcefully meet the desk. Her question hangs in the air like a threat, a promise. "Do you even know what I'll do to you for this?" The accusation dances in her eyes, daring me to answer.

Shyness wars with audacity within me as my eyes flicker to her blouse. "Yes, Mistress," I hear myself respond, my voice barely more than a whisper. "I believe you'll undo your trousers for this. No need to fully remove them... yet. But your blouse, it yearns to be freed from the confinement of your trousers." The audacity of my suggestion strikes even me, but her actions seem to have emboldened me, pulling out this daring side I didn't know I possessed.

Her voice resonates throughout the office, each word heavy with an anger laced with frustration. "This is absurd, Tanya!" Her hands move in a flurry of activity, unbuttoning the blouse button by button. "What a bold, pitiful little vixen you are." I can't pry my eyes away from the enticing cleavage that's slowly revealed to me. "Do you think I can't see through your antics?" Another button is undone, and I'm entranced by her flat stomach and navel, which I suddenly yearn to taste with my tongue. "Well, Tanya?" She raises her voice, "Do you feel my power now?!" My Mistress crosses her arms over her flushed chest, reveling in the ease with which she's enforced her dominance. All it required was the simple act of unbuttoning her blouse.

While she awaits my response, I gently suggest, "Mistress, perhaps if you lowered your tone, it could create a better connection between us. Shouting isn't becoming of your stature. And, um... maybe you could keep your hands behind your back during our discussion?" The words tumble out before I can stop them, leaving me shocked at my own audacity. But they're out in the open now, and I can't retract them.

Her face reddens even more with rage as she retorts, "Oh, you!" Struggling for the appropriate response, her fingers gravitate towards the button on her trousers. It gives way, and she adjusts her blouse, now hanging loosely over her sculpted physique. The stark white fabric creates a striking contrast against her dark trousers, and the suggestive hint of black lace beneath tantalizes my senses.

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I murmur with growing confidence, albeit still carefully choosing my words, "Mistress, perhaps it would be... beneficial if you... dispensed with your trousers. Your job is demanding, and you converse with so many people. The world (and I) should see your sculpted, slender legs and..." My voice trails off, finding it hard to proceed with the audacious suggestion.

Skepticism flickers across her face, her chest rising and falling with pent-up ire. However, instead of an onslaught of insults, her voice emerges soft, subdued, tinctured with barely concealed fury. "Tanya, have you lost your mind?" Her near hiss startles me as she folds her arms behind her back. Her posture straightens, her chest is lifted, presenting herself in an unexpectedly meek fashion.

Drawing in a deep breath, I continue. "Moreover, Mistress, I propose you now address me as your... ahem... Maestra." I'm wary of using the term "Mistress," as it should belong to her alone. "It... suits, because I seem to always have lessons for you, don't I, Mistress?" I'm unsure if this needs justification, but the exhilarating thrill at the idea of hearing that title from her lips leaves me breathless.

"Maestra?" She bends to slip off her shoes, a chuckle escaping her lips as she rolls her eyes. "Tanya, you're in a fantasy." One by one, her shoes and socks are removed. Then, slightly rising, her fingers seek the edge of her trousers, pulling them down in one swift movement, leaving her in just her black panties and the unbuttoned blouse. The sight of her bare legs, clad in black lace, sends an electric thrill through me.

Depositing my bag onto the carpet, a sudden surge of confidence emboldens me. "Mistress, your lovely legs must be weary from standing. Perhaps kneeling would be more comfortable," I suggest gently.

Her eyes widen in disbelief. "Maestra, rest assured, my legs are fine. I keep them in shape with regular treadmill workouts and squats." The unfamiliar title uttered from her lips sends a shiver through me. The sound is strangely erotic, and I can feel my heart rate accelerating, a warm flush spreading through me.

"Moreover," I begin, slowly pacing the room around her, my gaze lingering on her arms folded behind her back and her panties hugging her exquisite curves, "in moments like this, you should strive to maintain eye contact and refer to yourself in the third person. You will refer to yourself as... hmm... my little obedient sunshine." The audacious suggestion hangs in the air, and a blush creeps up my face as I feel a rush of arousal.

Blushing deeply, she holds her gaze steady ahead, her voice coming out quiet but firm. "Maestra, I may be mistaken, but I remain your superior, and this is entirely inappropriate." Despite her protest, her knees bend, and she lowers herself onto the plush carpet, kneeling before me.

"You're such a good obedient sunshine, my little girl." My voice is a soft purr, standing before her. Her brown eyes are locked onto me, her expression a curious mix of confusion and mounting anticipation. My heart thumps wildly, observing her quiver under my gaze, arousal evident in her demeanor.

"I want you to begin touching yourself through your panties, sweetheart, don't you want to surrender to your Maestra?" My voice is soft, yet firm, as I pose the tantalizing question.

Her eyes widen, her cheeks flush with embarrassment. "Maestra, your obedient little sunshine... she can't, shouldn't...", she stammers, her voice quivering. But I can see her arousal, how her thighs tense, the damp spot growing on her panties.

Ignoring her protest, I bend over my bag. Her gaze is immediately drawn to the hem of my short blue dress, hiked up enough to offer a teasing view of my bare intimacy. She emits a soft moan, transfixed by the sight. From the bag, I retrieve a pair of nipple clamps joined by a thin chain. She recoils, gasping sharply, as I casually toss the clamps onto the carpet before her.

Oblivious to her wide, frightened eyes, I lift my dress with one hand while my other ventures towards my smooth, bare pussy, my fingers exploring my clit. "Attach these... clamps... mmm... to your nipples, my... sweet... submissive... girl," I command in a breathy voice, lost in self-pleasure.

"No, Maestra," she refuses again, shaking her head, her hand pressing against her moist panties, "Your obedient little sunshine cannot..." Her fingers tease her aching pussy. She moans and squirms on her knees, the toes on her cute feet curling with pleasure, her gaze riveted on me, following each movement I make.

We're both pleasuring ourselves, yet in such divergent ways. I stand before her, my dress hiked up, my finger disappearing inside myself. My mouth is slightly agape, my wet tongue resting on my lower lip, my eyes unable to tear away from her smooth chest, her half-open blouse, her hand stimulating her pussy through her panties, rubbing, stroking, trailing along her folds.

"Discard your blouse, sunshine," I softly command. My voice is barely audible, morphing into a moan towards the end as my fingers work around my clit, sending delightful shivers coursing through my body.

"No, Maestra..." she mumbles back in a shaky voice, leaning forward to lift one of the clamps. "Please, don't ask your obedient little sunshine to do this." Her hand disappears beneath her blouse, a suppressed exhale escaping her lips as she attaches the clamp first to her right nipple, then to the left, wincing from the discomfort and humiliation. Her hand lingers beneath her blouse, perhaps attempting to alleviate the sting, before falling back down. The chain dangles from beneath her blouse, gently swaying as she writhes, her fingers persistently massaging her pussy through her drenched panties.

Approaching her, I stand directly in front of her, pressing my swollen, wet pussy against her nose. The scent of my arousal fills the room, mingling with hers. "You may suck my clit, sunshine," I command, my eyes focused on her. "I can see your desire."

"Your little obedient sunshine... she... she's never done this before," she stutters, her gaze alternating between my eyes and my exposed pussy. Her hands continue their motions, fingers pressing into her panties, her body shaking with pleasure.

And then, she does exactly what I've desired all along. With a fluid motion, she removes her blouse, the silk fabric settling beside her knees. I gasp as her nipples, adorned with the clamps, come into view. The accidental brush of her nose against my pussy as she discards her blouse sends waves of pleasure coursing through me. Her beautiful brown eyes remain fixed on me, wide with fear but also curiosity and... passion? I can't suppress a moan at the sight, my fingers pressing harder on my clit, my eyes transfixed on her nude form.

Maintaining the pressure of my pussy against her nose, I command, "Strip for me, my submissive little girl." "Maef..." her voice is muffled and breaks off, leaving it ambiguous what she was attempting to say to me this time when her lips, seemingly of their own volition, meet my clit and begin to suck. I feel her tentative tongue lapping at me. She trembles beneath me, and within seconds, with a loud moan, she climaxes, drenching her black panties with her juices, her fingers still rubbing against the wet fabric. I moan in response, my fingers entwining in her hair, pressing her face harder against my wet pussy.

We remain like this for several minutes in silence, punctuated only by our shared moans, until I regain some composure from the overwhelming, continuous pleasure. "Alright, sunshine..." I gasp between moans, "Reach for my bag," I manage to say, "there's... there's an item in there for you... a buttplug... I want... I want you to use it!.." My voice morphs into a scream as her slutty tongue glides over my delicious clit, causing me to tremble with pleasure.

She mumbles something incoherent without detaching her mouth from my pussy, sending delightful vibrations coursing through my body. Her fingers begin to fumble blindly, grappling with the tips of her fingers and drawing my bag towards her. Yet after this, abandoning the bag by her knees next to her discarded white blouse, her hands make their way to the hem of her panties. She starts to clumsily lower them further and further, her fingers quaking, her body convulsing under the onslaught of pleasure and anticipation. I can feel her tremulous, muffled exhales warming my pussy as she struggles to peel off her panties, all the while still kneeling. Seeing her in such a vulnerable, fragile, tender state, my arousal amplifies. My pussy pulses with desire.

The world shrinks to the sensation of her lips and tongue on my clit, her breath against my skin. Pleasure flares and dances within me, every move of her tongue escalating the inferno. Everything inside me tenses, a pressure building deep within. I can feel my orgasm looming, as unstoppable as a runaway train, and I know it can't be evaded. My moans crescendo, my grip in her hair tightening. And I climax.

My orgasm crashes over me in waves, the pleasure so potent it borders on unbearable. I scream her name, my body convulsing as I drench her face. My juices spill from me, trickling down her chin onto the carpet beneath us. My body shudders, shaken by a few subsequent aftershocks of pleasure. Gasping for breath, I struggle to maintain my stance, clutching her hair.

"Thank you... thank you..." I start absentmindedly, but resolve to be a bit firmer with her, "Tell me... thank me... your Maestra... every time you cum... and when... I spank or slap you," I exhale, my body still quaking from the aftershocks of my orgasm. Before she has a chance to reply, I bring my hand down on her left cheek, and the sound of the slap echoes through the room. She whimpers, but remains silent, which prompts me to frown. Then, her left cheek reddened, she reaches silently into my bag and pulls out a small black pouch. With her immaculate, well-kept fingers, she unties it to reveal a small metal plug, adorned with a pink crystal at the base.

Her eyes stay locked onto mine as she places the plug in her mouth, swirling her tongue around it. Shortly after, she extracts the saliva-coated plug from her mouth. Her voice is soft, submissive, as she asks, "Does Maestra want her obedient little slut to stretch her ass for her?" Her question sends shivers down my spine, and I quickly answer, "Yes, my girl," my voice trembling from the overwhelming pleasure she's bestowing upon me. I watch, enchanted, as she lowers her hand and gingerly slides the plug into her wet pussy, coating it with her juices.

Then, with a resolute look in her eyes, she pulls the plug from her pussy and, leaning forward, slowly, gently begins to push it into her tight little ass. Witnessing her do this, barely maintaining her position on her knees as she lowers herself onto her elbow, triggers a wave of arousal in me, making me tremble with delight.

I kneel before her, delivering another slap to her tender left cheek, watching it bloom into a delightful shade of pink. Yet, she remains silent, struggling to reclaim her position on her knees. Her fingers resume their play with her wet, slutty pussy, even without my directive. It's a struggle for me to watch her writhe on her knees, leaning her whole body forward. "Get on all fours," I command with a firm voice, despite the tremor in it. When my hand lands yet another slap on her still flushed left cheek, her scream reverberates through the room. A satisfied smile adorns my face when she, still on her knees, finally utters the words I've been aching to hear. "Thank you, Maestra, for slapping your sunshine," she breathlessly exclaims. Her voice is sweet music to my ears.

Her expression upon seeing me pull the strap-on from the bag is priceless. Her eyes widen as she kneels there, her right hand caressing her soaking pussy. I fasten the strap-on around my hips, its inner end pressing against my clit to ensure I derive as much pleasure from using it as she does.

"My obedient little slut, will you let me fuck your pussy with this cock?" I ask, my gaze locked onto hers, even though we both understand it's more of a command than a question. Her eyes continue to betray her fear, the chain adorning her chest trembling with her apprehensive breaths as she begins to massage her pussy more fervently... and she assumes the all-fours position. The pink crystal of her plug twinkles from between her ass cheeks in the room's light.

The sight of her exposed pussy and the plug snugly nestled in her ass renders me ravenous. Positioned behind her, the tip of my dildo nudges her entrance. As I prepare to penetrate her, I land several slaps on her ass, the sound ricocheting off the room's walls. Each strike sends shivers down her spine, her soft moans of pleasure serenading the room.