I'm Dating Our Mailgirl Ch. 12

The next dish was Clams Casino and again she begged me to take her home. "There's only one more dish, then we will leave. Finally the linguine with anchovy was served. "Can we go now? I need to talk to you when we get home."

We were the first ones to leave. We thanked our hosts and then left for Joyce's house. As soon as we got into the car, without giving it a second thought, I started scolding Joyce. "You acted like a spoiled brat. You embarrassed me. What got into you?"

She looked at me with an impish smile on her face, not really showing any contrition. "Are you going to punish me?"

"What? Are you crazy? I'm embarrassed, but you are a grown woman. Of course I'm not going to punish you."

"But I want you to. I need you too," there was a pause and then she hesitantly added, "Mistress."

I wasn't sure I heard her correctly. She had lowered her voice hesitantly as she referred to me as "mistress. "What did you call me?"

She clearly was flummoxed, "I called you Mistress."

Now it was my turn to be flummoxed. "I don't understand, what happened to Monica, or sweetheart. Why are you calling me mistress? I though we agreed you would refer to me as you concubine, not your mistress."

She started to laugh, "No, not mistress, like an illicit lover; mistress like a woman who owns or controls someone. You are my mistress."

With those four words, the conversation, in less than two minutes moved from one of hesitant questioning to one of assertion, We continued the rest of the trip in silence. I had a millions questions, and Joyce was obviously anxious to talk; but I think she was composing what she wanted to say and wanted to return to the familiarity of her home.

THE PLEASURE ROOM - OR THE ROOM OF PAIN

Jaime dropped us off at the door and we entered the house. Joyce grabbed my hand and led me upstairs. We walked past her bedroom to the adjacent bedroom. The night 9 had spend with us in preparation for the Thanksgiving meal, I had just assumed 9 would be sleeping in this bedroom adjacent to the master bedroom. When I attempted to open it that night, it was locked and I simply escorted 9 to the next bedroom. I didn't think much of it. I didn't even wonder what was in this bedroom and why it was locked, at least not until now.

Joyce produced a key and unlocked the room. The room was dark and all the shutters on the windows were closed. Even when she threw a switch, it was grossly inadequate to light the entire room. Slowly my eyes adjusted to the darkness and I saw the most puzzling array of equipment, equipment that I could only describe as something one would find in a dungeon or a torture chamber. There were three metal cages. The first one was shaped like an Egyptian sarcophagus. It was metallic with bars forming the roughly human shape. The bars were spaced about four inches apart allowing access by someone's hand from outside the cage. I didn't notice initially, but I later noticed it was mounted on a dolly allowing it to be easily moved in the upright position. The second cage was a more traditional three-dimensional rectangular shape. The dimensions would allow a human to fit into it, comfortably, but still confined in such a way that not much freedom of movement would be allowed. It was mounted on a contraption that would allow it to be moved from one location to another and it could be rotated so that if someone were in it that could be face up at one moment and then flipped face down. The third cage was suspended in mid-air, held up by a hoist which could be adjusted by a ratchet. It looked to be 3' x 4' x 4'. It could easily hold two people and three could be placed in it but they would be crowded and there would not be much freedom of movement.

On the wall, whips and other bondage equipment were hanging. I wouldn't have been familiar with this type of fetish if I hadn't wandered into the porn store the night I was looking for a collar. I was dumbfounded. Joyce broke the silence, "This will be our new playroom." The significance still had not sunk in and I was trying to process this new revelation. Joyce kissed me, passionately, and then fell to her knees. She bowed her head and gently placed my hands on the back of her head. "I am now and henceforth and forever your slave."

I blurted out the first thing that popped into my head, "But what if I don't want you to be my slave?"

"Are you rejecting me, after all this time together?"

"No, don't be ridiculous. I'm not rejecting you. I'm rejecting this concept. It's barbaric; it's primitive."

"Yes! Don't you understand? That's the whole point. It is primitive. We are going to indulge our baser instincts. Monica, uh, Mistress? What do you know about the BDSM lifestyle?"

"Apparently not very much."

"May I humbly attempt to be so presumptive as to enlighten Mistress?"

She attempted to explain. "Certain people, people like myself who have very important and demanding positions feel overwhelmed with the constant pressure of their responsibilities. We seek relief in handing over control of our lives, complete control, to someone who they trust explicitly to make all decisions and to take all responsibility for their lives. You servant needs to be so unburdened and your servant trusts you explicitly and wants you to have that responsibility."

"I'm flattered, but I'm overwhelmed. What all is involved?"

"You can learn as we go along and reorient our relationship. Firstly, your servant must always be naked in your presence. May I remove my clothes?"

This was no great concession, we were both usually naked, at least in the bedroom if not in other rooms in the house. "Of course you may. But are you going to be naked whenever we are at work?"

"We will have to make a concession to conventional society. Our new relationship will only be in effect within the confines of this house. In the workplace, your servant must once again assume the role of the powerful and controlling person in the relationship."

I chuckled, "Well, I'm not certain how that will work out." I started to remove my clothes.

Joyce hesitantly interrupted me, "May your servant be so bold as to speak?"

"Sure."

"By remaining clothed, you demonstrate you dominance over your naked servant."

"But I enjoy being naked with you."

"Concessions to convention must be made." I remained clothed. Joyce, completely naked, gave me a tour of the room and it's implements. She started with the three cages and pointed out the subtle differences among them. She pointed out the obvious fact that the hanging cage could hold at least two and perhaps three people.

I naively asked, "Who else will be in there?"

She smiled and demurely replied, "We'll have to see." Did she have other submissives who would be sharing that limited space with her while I dominated both, perhaps joined by those other people's doms? For a fleeting moment my mind flashed to a mental image of Joyce sharing that space with 9, but I quickly dismissed that thought from my mind.

Like Vanna White she showcased the collection of whips hanging on one of the walls. "You will use these to discipline me." I still couldn't wrap my thoughts around the concept.

We moved to a table, "These are the anal implements." She picked up a large metallic hook with a ball at the end of the hook. I must have looked puzzled. "This is inserted in my asshole for control." Another similar hook had manacles at the top. It didn't take much imagination to realize, even in my naivety, that would be used with the hook inserted and the wrists would be manacled behind the back. There was a third hook, which was actually a double hook. My look of puzzlement was answered despite my not having asked the questions, "Your servant can have this hook inserted in her asshole and another slave can be placed back-to-back with the other hook inserted in her ass."

"Where are we going to find another sub?"

She merely smiled, "There are more around than you think." My mind again flashed to 9 and Joyce impaled back to back. This time, my mind lingered a bit longer on that mental image than it should have. Joyce had moved on to a display of bullet-shaped objects, kind of like Matryoshka nesting dolls shaped like lava lamps from the 70's.

"What are these?" I asked.

"My. . . " she blurted out, but quickly realized she should not have used the possessive adjective. ". . . . your butt plugs that have been graciously provided to your humble servant." My quizzical look gave away my bewilderment. "The graduated objects are placed in your humble servants asshole. They provide pain, at first, but eventually erotic pleasure that heightens sexual arousal. The graduated sizes allow for the enlargement of the anus to allow you easier access to this most shameful orifice which is always available for your pleasure. . . or to punish me."

"May I insert one now?"

"your servant would be humbled." I inserted the smallest one, which went in too easily. Clearly her asshole was used to having objects of all sizes inserted in it. I removed it, with no great effort, and took the next size up. It appeared to be an inch in diameter and just over three inches in length. It had a thin neck and a flared base for easy removal, It required a bit of effort to insert, but I spotted a lubricant on the table and applied it to facilitate insertion.

"You may apply some lubricant to my sphincter," she helpfully suggested. I liked her suggestion and did as she said. Her smile displayed great satisfaction. Thinking nothing of this violation of her most intimate body orifice, she thoughtfully suggested, "Let's move to the collars."

We moved to a table where six different collars were displayed. The most obtrusive one was made of leather with a metallic trim. It was contoured to fit on the neck, of course, It was hinged to allow placement and it closed with a latch. There was a hinged metallic ring in the front. The collar could be locked into place. It was at lease four inches tall at the highest point, but its contours tapered down to about three inches. It did not look like it allowed much flexibility of movement. I noted that fact, and Joyce said it was a posture collar designed for training. I was afraid to ask what type of training.

The other collars displayed a variety of appearances. Joyce picked up the most attractive of the collars. Yes, I had to admit it made a striking fashion statement. It was a highly polished metallic collar just over an inch high with a fine leather trim Again, it was hinged to allow placement and it closed with a lock. There were three rings attached to studs in front and on each side. Etched in front was the word "cunt". Joyce started speaking in soft tones. "This was amelia's collar. When she finally accepted me as her mistress, we signaled the new relationship with this token."

I was puzzled, "I don't understand. This is a slave's collar. Wasn't she your mistress?"

"No. In our relationship I was the Dom and amelia was the sub."

"But now you are a sub?"

"I understand your bewilderment. It's very, very complicated. I am sure you will want me to explain it to you some day, but, with all humility, not tonight."

I accepted her enticement.

"Would Mistress be so gracious to accept this token of our new relationship?" She picked up the simplest collar on the table and handed it to me. "Would you place it around my neck to signify our new relationship?"

I still didn't fully comprehend. She knew that she needed to give me more of an explanation. "This is a training collar. It signifies that i am in training to be your subordinate. And just as important, you are also in training to become my Dominant. Once the period of training is over. then we shall move to the more significant full collar and the resulting ceremony where it will be bestowed." She handed me the collar and lowered her head and waited for me to place it on her neck. I removed the lock so I could place it on her neck. I latched it closed and then reinserted the lock. When I snapped the lock closed she noticeably winced as if that noise signified the beginning of the rest of her relationship with me as my sub, and my relationship as her Dom.

I still wasn't certain of my full acceptance of this new development, but I did feel compelled to kiss her, gently on the forehead and then I moved down her face, pausing to plant a kiss on her nose and then her lips. As I lingered there, the kiss become more passionate.

She broke off the kiss and looked up at me and asked, "Does Mistress wish to discipline me?"

I didn't answer but it was obvious I didn't understand what she was asking. She took my hand and led me to two eight foot tall poles anchored in the floor spaced about four feet apart. Each pole had two cast iron rings, about three inches in diameter, one placed near the floor and the other one about seven feet up. She reached over to a table and grabbed a set of fetters which she placed on her ankles. She locked them in place beckoning me to secure her ankles to the bottom rings on the poles. I hesitantly but obediently did so. She had also grabbed a set of manacles and placed them on her wrists. She needed me to secure them to the top rings. I did so.

Her naked, restrained body was thus displayed. She was arranged so that I was behind her, but I could easily walk around to her front. "Would Mistress do me the honor of disciplining me?"

"Discipline? For what?"

"i was so disrespectful in impetuously insisting that we leave the lovely party when Mistress was obviously enjoying the evening." She was right; I was annoyed by her behavior. But the thought of disciplining her never remotely entered my mind. First, what right or responsibility was it for me to presume to discipline her. And yet here she was handing that opportunity, that responsibility to me.

"How should I discipline you?"

"There are a variety of whips on the wall."

I walked over trying to find one that would inflict a minimum of pain. One fairly short whip contained nine cords which were the obvious implements of pain. Another similar whip contained leather cords but the one I selected contained a reasonably softer material that would not be as painful. I brought it over. I stood there.

"Go on, child, eh, Mistress. Raise it and strike it across my buttocks." I did so. It didn't elicit any cry of pain; I really didn't want it to. But it did cause Joyce to laugh. "You call that a whipping. Strike me, really strike me hard."

I struck her again, more forcefully. I heard a low guttural groan. "Yes, that's better." I struck her again. She winced in pain and her groans became louder. I started to feel a rush. I don't know if it was from feeling pleasure in inflicting this pain on her or just a physiological adrenaline rush. Each subsequent blow was harder. I was subconsciously counting the blows. With the eighth blow a welt emerged from her thigh. I was moving the blows from her buttocks to her lower back and thigh. The ninths blow produced a redder welt on her lower back. The tenth produced a prominent mark on her buttocks. I was afraid to go on and I stopped.

We stayed there in silence. Joyce appeared to be trying to suppress tears. Finally she spoke. "A good first effort. You seemed to be progressively enjoying the exercise more and more. While the pain was burning, you kept if from becoming unbearable. There will be time for that later. Thank you. Thank you."

I started to unleash her from her bindings. "No, mistress. Leave me here. The hormones which have been released need to be relished. I need to prolong the sensation."

I told her, "I'm tired. I need to go to bed."

"That is your prerogative. By all means, go to bed." I immediately realized I should have said "we need to go to bed." She gave no indication I should unchain her. I retired to the bedroom, by myself, leaving her splayed out. I couldn't imagine her getting any sleep like that, but I left. She did not protest in any way.

When I got to the bedroom, I was still disturbed by the events of the past hour. Joyce, such a powerful and strong woman had revealed her complete vulnerability to me. In an obsequious way she had demanded to be humiliated and dominated. Perhaps as bothersome was the fact that I had complied. Not enthusiastically or completely willingly, but none the less I had been complicit in her BDSM dream world. I disrobed; but so complete was the transformation that had taken place, I felt uncomfortable in not being clothed since I was assuming a condition of submission.

None the less, I crawled into bed, but I could not sleep. A multitude of thought were racing through my head. The obvious disturbing thoughts of what had just happened, but also the fact that here I was, in my lovers bedroom, in her bed, by myself. My lover was in another room splayed like a slave. She obviously would be able to achieve only the most fitful sleep if she was able to sleep at all.

As I put those thoughts behind me, then my mind rushed to what was in store for tomorrow. I was to suffer my own "humiliation" in being compelled to shower naked in front of my co-workers. But 9 was to have her triumphant moment as she enters the office Christmas dinner wearing nothing, just as she displays her body all day at work. I wondered what hell was to be paid toward her for doing this and also to me for facilitating the display. Joyce would not be pleased, but what repercussions would follow.

I tried to overcome my restlessness and sleep, but to no avail. I had thought my sexual needs were to have been fulfilled this evening, but that was not to be. I fingered my pussy, but that was not able to satisfy me. I got up and went to the adjacent room. It was around 4:00. When I went in, Joyce was either passed out or sleeping, I was not sure which. As I got closed it appeared that she was conscious so she was merely sleeping, but I'm not sure how she accomplished that. Her upraised arms prevented her body from collapsing onto the floor. Her legs were bent in an attempt to collapse into the floor, but her manicures were too high to allow that.

My initial impulse was to release her and bring her into our bed, but something prevented me from doing that. Instead, I sat in a chair in the room and just watcher her in her painful position. And I watched, and I watched and I watched. Occasionally she would involuntarily attempt to move but she could not extricate herself or otherwise relieve the agony she was obviously experiencing.

At around 6:00, the usual time we would have awoken if we had spent the night in joyful sexual ecstasy, I unlocked first the right manacle. Her arm plopped down but even that didn't awaken her. Then I unlocked the left manacle, being careful to catch her to prevent her from falling onto the floor. She awoke and weakly whispered, "Thank you, Mistress."

I asked her if she could stand. She tried, but she was too weak. I allowed her limp body to drape over my shoulders while I stooped down and unfastened the ankle fetters. I re-positioned her weak body but still carried her into our room. I went into the bathroom and lowered her legs into the sunken whirlpool bath. I carefully positions her onto the edge of the tub and drew a bath. Next, I gently repositioned her still limp body so that I could remove her butt plug. Then I lowered her into the tub, and I joined her. Feelings were still slow to come back to her arms, so I gently massaged them, then her legs. A generous portion of bath soap allowed me to bathe her sweaty body while ministering to her muscles.

Finally, she regained her feelings and turned herself over. There were still 3 visible welts on her backside. I started rubbing them when she said, "Does Mistress want to make her chore easier by applying a salve?" Her point of view was making my job easier, not providing relief for her. I nodded my assent when she solicitously told me there was a tube of healing salve in the medicine cabinet. I retrieved it and started applying it. I asked if she wanted to be shaved for tonight's dinner. She gently assented so I applied shaving cream to her armpits and then her legs.