Opening Her Up

"There," he said with satisfaction. "This is how one kneels."

The man stepped back, presumably to evaluate his work.

His effort was highly effective. It was a breezy torture. Something you'd think should be insubstantial. On the one hand, an agony of etherial overstimulation. On the other, a blissful titillation softer than silk and more delicate than fine lace against skin. Millions of invisible air molecules striking with precision aim, little sparks of jolting electricity kissing and licking and pursing and smacking all around that one spot.

It was overwhelming and yet nothing at all. Unable to control herself, she clenched and contracted and squeezed. More dribbled out adding to the humiliation. She began to uncontrollably shiver in unrequited anticipation and didn't believe she'd ever been this nakedly aroused in her life. It was at that moment when she resigned herself to total surrender.

"Look into your heart," he said. "Dig deeply. Do you feel submission?"

She did as he said and pondered carefully and of course there it was. Peering past overwhelming sexual need, for the first time in her life she found that place of submission she'd always been yearning for. He had truly led her there, just as she'd hoped. A torrent of overwhelming emotion washed over her and she thought she might cry.

"Yes," she croaked, shivering in place from raw uncontained sexuality. And for a few moments he let her explore this newfound place.

"Next, I must strip away your vanity."

Presently she felt her carefully smoothed down dress shift. What was he doing? Her eyes popped open and he saw him holding the dress by its hem and her belly tumbled further downward.

She immediately tried to press the cloth down, to prevent what he intended. What if he sees? Of course he'll see. Why did that bother her?

"Be still and hold position!"

She sucked in a deep breath and placed her hands back, utterly dejected. Then the dress slowly lifted in front of her.

He stood there like a creepy old man at a peep show, calmly appraising her aroused orifice. She didn't know why it dismayed her so. It was as if step by step he'd broken through layers of projected false self-confidence, threatening to expose a much deeper underlying nakedness to her soul.

"Yes," he said deadpan, holding up her dress and examining underneath with a detailed eye. "You are most excited."

"Raise your arms."

She did so, utterly beyond embarrassment. He lifted the dress off and she was nude before him. Nonchalantly, he folded the dress and set it on an armrest.

"I cannot read minds," he lectured, strolling around her, examining here and prodding there. "I must know how commands and tasks affect you, so I may tailor them to suit your needs." He paused. "It is necessary to succeed in my role, just as submitting is necessary for you to succeed in yours."

Kneeling naked on the table, she was in the front row seat to her own ignominy. She shut her eyes tight hoping it would all go away.

"If you want my guidance down this path, you will undress when I say strip. You will hold still as I appraise, evaluate, and assess your nudity, your arousal and your willing compliance. For any reason whatsoever."

He touched her cheek, her belly clenched hard, and she let out a little moan. Then another bit of spittle dribbled out of her orifice.

"Eyes open, girl."

She obeyed to see him gazing upon her excretion with a raised eyebrow. The depths of her disgrace seemed unending. Her world was crumbling and crashing down all around her. It felt weird and crass and corrupt and ... well, downright perverse. But was also the hottest thing she'd ever done. Which, she supposed, is exactly why she'd come to him. None of this had been expected, the man had impressed with remarkable creativity after all.

He peered deeply into her eyes. "Speak," he commanded. "Affirm my total authority to strip you down inside and out.

Trembling, she swallowed hard. "I will undress at your command. You may peer and gaze upon me however you wish. I give you this power without reservation."

"There's more," he leaned forward and whispered in in ear. "I'll need much much more."

He kneeled on one knee in front of her, head to crotch, and reached a finger out in between her legs but did not touch. His fingertip, only millimeters away, stroked the air up and down and along and around and by some sympathy of air she somehow felt it caress her.

"Oh my God," she said and moaned uncontrollably.

"Your cunt," he said. "That is mine."

"It's yours," she agreed.

He stood. "In fact, it is all mine. Would you deny me?"

"No," she said, wondering just how much he'd really take yet unable to refuse.

"Your cunt, your mouth, your tits, your ass - they're all mine," he said matter of factly. "But more so, your orgasms. I will take all your orgasms. They are mine. Accept that right now. From now on, you must have permission to orgasm."

She nodded, spinning ever downward in a spiral out of control.

"Say it."

"My orgasms," she whispered. "They are yours."

"And if you disrespect me. If you're insubordinate. If you willingly misbehave," he said with a sigh. "Well, first of all you'd violate this obligation you have to your own growth."

"I would never do that," she said with false conviction. Because inwardly she knew she might. In fact, just earlier that evening she'd been unable to stop herself. But she shoved away that fleeting thought so as not to consider what his repercussions might be.

"One hopes not," he replied. "But if you did, you'd have committed a transgression. Isn't that so?" He let that sink in. "And what should happen if you transgress?"

She said nothing, fearing what might come next.

"Elaine?"

"I, um," she stammered. "I don't know." But she did.

"Think it over," he said. "What should happen if you misbehave?"

It was all so overwhelming. She knew what he expected her to say but she didn't have the strength of will to utter it. And if she could speak the words, how would she ever be able to accept the reality of it?

"Elaine!"

Startled, she nearly fell from the frightening jolt. "Christopher, please," she pleaded.

"Say it," he insisted.

"You will spank me?" The words came out like a mousey squeak.

He leaned forward right to her ear. "I must have the authority to punish," he whispered. "Or none of this can work. It's just not possible to lead without both carrot and stick. Not in life. Or business. And most certainly not in kink."

Of course, she swallowed and gave a little nod. He must have the power to punish her. What kinky porno story had she ever seen or read where someone didn't get a good spanking?

"So say it."

Accepting the totality of it all, she opened her eyes and glanced up into his, pursed her lips, said what he needed to hear. "I accept your authority to lead, so you may take me places I've never been. To learn from you, because you have something to teach. I accept it all." She paused. "I am yours," she told him. "My body. My orgasms. My will. As best I can. And if I fail, you may punish me. As you see fit."

"Good girl."

She looked down and saw herself naked and kneeling, sex juices dripping, palms up on her thighs just as he'd taught. And she was more scared, more excited, more needful than she'd ever been in her life. She had no idea what would happen next. He'd opened a pandora's box deep within her. She didn't think she could close it shut even if she'd wanted too.

"From now on you'll be respectful," he said. "Say 'Sir' when given instructions. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Well," he said with a single loud clap of finality. "We begin."