Lynn's Journey Pt. 03

You stay in me for a few moments after you are done, running your hands gently around my back.

"I like it when you are naughty." You say. With a quick swat on my behind you pull out. I stay unmoving on the bed but ready to collapse as you walk out of the room and towards the bathroom to shower. Just before you leave the room you say, "I look forward to next time."

I collapse on the bed, thinking, "I look forward to next time too."

no subject

From: Lynn

Jun 24, 2018 2:43:26 AM

Hi Sir -

I was so excited to receive your message this morning. I don't think excited is the right word... giddy? Elated? I shot out of my hammock like a rocket with the biggest goofiest grin... thank you, Sir.

It was early enough in the morning that I was able to get a few paragraphs in and really enjoy myself. Smiling the whole time. Lingering on every word. Toying with your (my) pussy. Feeling myself blush and get wet at the same time.

Then the fucking Family Circus woke up. GAH! Unintentional edging!

I struck a deal with the kids - give Mom an hour to go on a walk, don't wake up Dad, and I'll return with donuts. My daughter is 14 so this is like bargaining with the devil himself. After intense negotiations that included a trip to the bookstore and a video game purchase... (hey, I got 3 loads of dishes and the upstairs cleaned as add-ons... not bad!)... I was alone on the walking trail.

At that point I understood that what I was feeling could be properly described as elated.

A phone call on Friday?! :) I'm thrilled!

A possible reconsideration on no fucking? I am floored and humbled and quite gobsmacked at even the potential thought, Sir. When I read that and the flood of thoughts that followed... I came for you, Sir. It wasn't a tsunami of an orgasm, but I had to stop, breathe, and take a good few minutes to compose myself. Thank you, Sir.

And more so it was a great way to make my whole body hyper sensitive for the rest of the email and walk. Hands down it was the most intense hike I've completed. The whole story, every spank... thinking of you... thinking of me and how exquisite that could feel... the dominance of the tone of the Sir in the story and how that could be you... I had to stop at a bench. My pussy rubbing on my thighs... my shorts... the throbbing...

When I sat down, admittedly, I did not do so as gracefully as I should have. However, the rather jarring slap on my underside and the oh-so-slight vibration from the metal bench... I came again for you, Sir. I sat and felt the buzzing of my insides, the slight breeze, my breathlessness, the heat of my body, my hard nipples against my shirt, how every muscle tensed and relaxed in unison over and over and over....

Thank you, Sir. Thank you.

The rest of my day was... well... fucking magical. I'd sneak a little read of a few paragraphs again and beam. I absolutely hate being called a princess, but I felt like one.

Thank you, Sir. I was cumming for you, Sir. I was smiling for you, Sir. Hell, I was feeling happy because of what you shared, Sir.

Always,

Kitten

PS: I made good on the donuts ;)

Sunday

From: SIR

Jun 24, 2018 11:48:04 AM

Dearest Kitten -

I'm constantly amazed at this gift you have, to be able to express yourself so vividly and clearly. That you've embraced your wanton desires. Your awakening. Your need to submit and to please. It pleases me that you share it so easily with me.

The story was (obviously) written by a woman. I find that most all the ones I choose to send you are. I've also noticed that most of the videos I watch and send you are woman on woman. There's something about the gentle nature of the eroticism between two women I find captivating. I see myself as the other woman in those videos, gently yet firmly bringing you along, the passion and desire building until it bursts from you in a wave of ecstasy. Many D/s videos between a man and woman have some aspect of degradation that I find offensive. I will never put you in that position. You will submit to me, and I will test you. You will test me. We will push our limits, but never without respect and trust.

The things of which I write and speak, the things we do, and will do, will are considered to be some sort of depraved debauchery by most people. They don't get it. They don't understand the level of trust and respect that we have to build between ourselves, what it takes for us to be able to do the things we do. If there is some defect in our psyche that brought us together, then we are connected in ways that we both may never understand. But we've found each other.

You turn over to me, and trust me with, all your power and control, and in return I show you that you can break free of the limits and boundaries you've unwittingly allowed yourself to become a slave to - mentally and physically. We have to trust each other implicitly, so that we can be honest in ways no one can understand. This is no superficial 'I'll tell you to your face' sort of honesty. This is the soul-searching, face your inner demon, kind of honesty that leaves you naked and exposed to me.

You are desirable in your imperfections and vulnerability. I own you in ways that are so intimate, it can never be explained. It's a feeling, an excitement, a release. It washes over us and, for those moments in time, we are one. I, always above you, leading the way, and you, willingly giving yourself to me without limit. The sexual nature of this is secondary. So much must be in place before that. Sex is where people are the most guarded, have the thickest armour. That armour has to come off for the metamorphosis to take place. It is a cocoon from which the chrysalis of the new, beautiful, confident, and elegant you will emerge.

But sex also allows us the most immediate feedback and gratification. The orgasmic pleasure, the body's physical response to such intense pleasure. The addictive lust and longing for the rush of endorphins and the total loss of control of your physical being. The loss of all senses...the heightened nature of all your senses, often brought about through some level of physical pain, or verbal submission. When you are cumming, that is all you can do. Cum. In those brief moments nothing else exists. It's impossible for anything else to be in that moment. Except there is. I am there with you, in your head, in your thoughts. I am your desire, your need to please. You cum for me.

And you give yourself to me. All of you. You let go of this world and turn yourself over to me.

"I want to stop, but you won't let me." But you could have. You could have simply stopped.

You give. You give more than you ever thought possible. Without regret or embarrassment. Because if you think about it too long, it's illogical, it's embarrassing. How could you possibly describe to your closest friend or confidante this world you've entered? This version of you that's been found? What would you say? "I've found that I have a need to be submissive, and I derive great pleasure from it. It's a part of who I am. I like this part of me. I'm nurturing it because I am on this journey with someone I trust. He is not here. I've hardly been touched, yet it consumes me at times. When they are at the forefront of my thoughts, the need and the pleasure are beyond description. I crave it. I'm aroused all the time. I want to FEEL it. I need it. I have a need to please, and it makes me happy."

But this is you now. It will always be a part of who you are, because it is you without the armour. And it pleases me. Because you want to please me and be my Good Girl. It pleases me because you are my Good Girl.

Sir.

I'm a paradox.

I want to be happy, but I think of things that make me sad.

I'm lazy, yet I'm ambitious.

I don't like myself, but I also love who I am.

I say I don't care, but I really do.

I crave attention, but reject it when it comes my way.

I'm a conflicted contradiction.

If I can't figure myself out, there's no way anyone else has.

- Unknown

Lesson 2 Part 1

From: SIR

Jun 24, 2018 4:13:14 PM

I've chosen to deliver this as a story, but read it very carefully and remember it. All your instructions on how to prepare, what to wear and how to position yourself are in the story. We don't have to re-live the mistakes, They are simply instructions on what not to do.

Lesson 2 - Part 1: Arrival.

Time passes ever so slowly as she waits in her car for the appointed time. She couldn't bear to be late and disappoint him. She's memorized the list but reads through the story again, she wants this to be perfect for him. She wants to be his Good Girl in every way. She checks the contents of her purse. This is not her 'mommy' purse, this is his purse. The only items allowed are: A lipstick, perfume, a mascara, an eyeliner, a compact mirror, one nail polish, an emery board, cinnamon mints, a few tissues, ID and bank card(s). With seven minutes to go she grabs her handbag and exits the car. Standing there, she reaches into the purse for her mirror and checks her lips and eyes. She removes the perfume and applies it one last time to her neck, cleavage and wrists. It strikes her that someone may be watching. Turning towards the lobby and locking her car behind her, she makes a show of walking to the door. She's never felt so sexy and womanly and it feels good. She hopes they want her, because they can't have her. She's his alone. As she walks, she puts her keys and phone in her purse, as if she's done this many times before. In her mind, she has.

She walks through the lobby with purpose and confidence. People look up at her, but she pretends to be oblivious. Inside, she revels in what it feels like to be looked at 'like that'. Then she thinks, "OMG, I hope they don't think I'm a hooker!" She giggles and the facade is broken. Her thought is "There's still some of the old me in here somewhere" and she takes comfort in that.

The elevator is her safe place. As the doors close, she wonders if anyone she knows was in the lobby. There's a gnawing feeling that she may never know for sure. That feeling...is it the fear of being caught? Or is it the excitement about what is about to happen?

Thankfully alone in the elevator, as the doors close she feels her pulse quicken, her breath shorten, her insides alight with electricity. If her night ended right now, this feeling alone would have been worth the trip. Her finger caresses the button to the 10th floor. As the doors close she appraises the woman staring back at her from the polished doors and is pleased with what she sees.

Her compulsion is to run through the checklist one last time to make sure everything is correct, but her thoughts are jumbled. She can only feel...the butterflies...the nervous energy...the excitement between her legs. At that thought her feet move a little wider, spreading her legs. The cool air rushes under her dress and onto her naked pussy. "I'm so wet for you, Sir" she whispers.

She's not sure if there are cameras in the elevator, so touching herself is out of the question. This heightened state of arousal...forbidden from cumming...the tension between the need to be obedient and the need for sexual release is inexplicably frustrating and erotically pleasurable at the same time.

The hum of the elevator changes pitch, and the change in gravity as the elevator slows feels like a gentle tug on her pussy and she relishes in the pressure on it. The doors open and she steps out. The wetness between her legs a constant reminder of what is to come. She walks down the hall with confidence and stops at the door. She checks her phone and stands waiting for the appointed time. Time passes so slowly she wonders if the phone is working properly. A small panic sets in. What if it's not working? What if there's no signal? She shakes the phone, as if it will help. Finally, the display gives way and the time has arrived. She takes a deep breath, knocks, corrects her posture and keeps her eyes forward.

He opens the door dressed in his black slacks and white shirt. His cologne drifts to her and her desire grows. She can't help but smile at him, and he smiles back. She wants so badly to reach out and hug him, but she cannot. He leans forward and gives her a gentle kiss on her perfectly red lips. She knows how much he loves lipstick and she offers her lips to him, mouth closed. His scent is even stronger and it takes all her will to keep her hands at her side. He steps back and says

"Right on time. You look wonderful, Kitten."

"Thank you Sir. May I come in Sir?"

"You may"

He nods, and turns to enter the room ahead of her. She follows him into the room and locks the door behind her. She stands with her back to the door until he sits in the upholstered chair and signals for her to come to him. He points to the floor in front of him and says "Posture."

She moves forward a bit shakily. The room is darkened with candles lit in several places...a blend of vanilla, jasmine, raspberry, musk. As she walks into the room past the bed she notices the covers have been pulled back, folded, and several items lay neatly on the white sheet. A document, a delicate gold chain, a thin black leather choker, oil, a fan brush, a riding crop, a cane, a few ordinary clothespins. Her heartbeat quickens. On the desk, an opened bottle of wine on ice and three wine glasses. Three?

She walks to the spot directly in front of him and stops just before her knees touch his. She stands with proper posture. Eyes straight ahead. Chin parallel to the floor. Ears over shoulders. Shoulders back, pushing the chest out. Hips slightly forward. Right foot behind her left, angled sideways, supporting all her weight. Left foot pointed forward with heel in front of the toes of the right. Left knee barely bent. Hips turned slightly. Hands behind her back, her right underneath clutching her left hand (which is turned up and holds her purse above it). She smiles her adorable lipsticked impish smile. She's finally arrived.

He bends down, slides his hand under the arch of her left foot, and slowly lifts. If she is standing properly, it lifts easily and she retains her balance. She's practiced for hours in front of her mirror, like a little girl playing dress-up, standing postured in her heels and lifting her left foot to ensure no weight is on it. With all her practice, she doesn't falter. He bends and kisses the top of her foot before returning it to the floor.

"Well then, shall we start?"

Does my dress please you, Sir?"

"Very much, Kitten"

She's wearing this dress https://www.charlotterusse.com/notched-polka-dot-midi-dress-302583623.html and maybe even those same sandals.

"Turn around and face the door."

She turns his back to him and resumes posture. She feels his hands cup her ass and slide upwards. She feels a tug on her purse and instinctively grabs it tighter.

"No Kitten, let it go." he whispers encouragingly.

She loves the sound of his voice. Her fingers loosen their hold.

"Turn around."

She turns and resumes posture and watches as he takes the purse and opens it, removing items one by one and lining them up on the table next to his seat. It appears to be a very mechanical exercise. An inspection.

Phone...keys...wallet...perfume...lipstick...mascara...eyeliner...mirror...nail polish...emery board...mints...tissues...

"Well done, Kitten."

"Thank you, Sir."

His hands return to the phone. He lifts it and hands it to her.

"Turn it off" he commands.

Eyes still forward, she accepts the phone into her cupped hands in front of her and hesitates. She stares at the phone. Her connection to her children.

"May I speak Sir?"

"Eyes forward. Yes, you may speak as soon as you turn off your phone."

"But Sir..."

"That was two. Don't make me say it again."

She's been here less than two minutes and she's already in a situation where she doesn't know what to do. She can feel his eyes, his stare. She looks away at the floor, then at the phone in her hand. She presses the power button.

"Look at me."

She doesn't understand what's happening. With all her preparation and all her studying, who knew it would happen so quickly? That she would get lost on something as simple as turning off her phone. She is so disappointed in herself for obeying, but she doesn't know why. It should make her happy to please him. Her frustration takes over and with a sad face she looks at him imploringly, lip quivering.

"What's wrong Kitten?"

"I don't know Sir." she says in a whisper.

"Eyes forward. Did I hurt you?"

No Sir."

"Did I say something wrong?"

"No Sir, never."

"Did you change your mind? Do you want to go?"

"No Sir, please don't make me leave Sir."

"Why not?"

"I need to be here with you Sir. I worked so hard to be here with you. I need to know that you are pleased with me Sir. I want to learn more. I want to feel things."

"Then why the worry?"

"My kids, Sir...the phone...if they need me..."

"Well, that does complicate things, doesn't it, Kitten?"

"Yes Sir"

"You should have thought about this before you got here."

"Yes Sir. I'm sorry Sir."

"Who are you? Are you my Good Girl, or are you a mother?"

"I'm both, Sir"

"But for now, you must choose one. You cannot be both at the same time when you are here. I need all of you if you are my Good Girl."

"I am your Good Girl, Sir."

"Very good Kitten. You are my Good Girl. Turn the phone back on and put it on the nightstand. If you hear their ringtone, the session stops and you will take your phone into the bathroom. "

"Thank you, Sir"

"...and Kitten?"

"Yes, Sir"

"How will you know if it's your children calling?"

Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck!

"Kitten, how will we know?"

"I'll have to look, Sir"

"Oh Kitten, that's so unfortunate. We have such little time together, and I have to share it with anyone who calls you? That's very selfish of you Kitten, to use my time that way. What do you think we should do about this Kitten?"

"We can turn it off, Sir"

"I thought that was not an option, and that's OK. Think Kitten, what else can we do?"

"...change the ringtone..?"

"Very good. You can change the ringtone. But...since you've been so selfish and unprepared...what else?"

"I should be punished, Sir"

"Yes, you will be punished. We'll get to that later. Fix your phone."

She reaches for her phone and out of the corner of her eye, she notices he looks at his watch. She changes the settings and returns her phone to the nightstand instead of the table.

"Now, stand here in front of me. Properly."

She stands as instructed.

"60 seconds" he whispers to no one in particular.

He stands and presses against her. From his vantage point he inspects her hair. Interestingly, he has never given her any direction on her hair, but he likes the feel and the color, and what she's done with it. He removes her eyeglasses and sets them on the table with her other items. She chuckles.

"What's so funny?"

"I can't see a thing without them Sir."

"Well, it just so happens I look better blurry. And remember, you are not here to see, but to feel and experience."

"Yes, Sir Blurry," she chuckled.

At this he reaches behind her suddenly, grabs a hand full of her hair, and pulls her head back. "Kneel!" As she does she is staring at him, fearful at his outburst.

"What did you call me!?"

"S..s...s...sir Blurry, Sir."

"Is that my name?" pulling, reminding her.

"No Sir." realizing the mistake she's made.

"Are you allowed to create pet names for me?!"

"No Sir, I am not allowed to create pet names for you"

"...and are you allowed to laugh during our sessions?"

"No Sir, I am not allowed to laugh during our sessions."

At this, he lets go of her hair, but that same hand quickly reaches into her top and grabs her right nipple. As he twists it forcefully he says "Tell me again."