The Dom you Want Pt. 03

It always comes down to pie.

It took the full thirty minutes for her to do hair and makeup. She probably could have done it in twenty, but I kept coming in to kiss and touch her. When she was ready to get dressed, she showed me a shortish but still respectable skirt and a simple green blouse for my approval. I wouldn't have allowed her to go out without a bra, but I made her kneel and beg to be allowed to wear one just for the fun of it. Having her beg to be allowed to wear panties and saying no was even more fun. When she asked if she would ever be allowed panties, I was expecting the question and explained to her that I think the Doms who make their submissives throw all their panties away are idiots but, today I had every intention of touching what was inside that skirt as I pleased and if I ever found her in panties that I didn't like I would either cut or rip them off her body. That got me a shy smile and "I have a pair that you will really hate Sir."

If anyone had watched us walking around the flea market, we would have seemed like any other couple though a little more affectionate than most. What didn't show was the fact that I deliberately kept her in a mild state of submission. When I held her hand, I didn't squeeze it, but I made my own hand ridged so that it felt like a bond. I guided her from booth to booth giving her no choice as to our path but also relieving her of any responsibility to help choose it. That's something a vanilla woman might resent but a submissive one finds very relaxing. As we wandered, I found that we have the same taste in art and furniture and the same thrift regarding the price they wanted for it. When I stopped at a tool booth and started going through items on the table she began to drift towards the next booth. Since that would have taken her out of my sight, I cleared my throat loudly. That brought her back and put a smile on her face that told me that she had done it to see if I was paying attention. Shortly after that we stopped in front of a photographer's booth that had a powerful image of a woman kneeling with her head to the floor in a semi lit room. When I asked what she thought the woman was thinking she said, "She isn't thinking, not the way you mean it. She's waiting for her Master and that's all she is doing. If there's a thought in her head at all its an image of him and a desperate desire to be found pleasing."

I looked her straight in the eye and said, "You do realize I'm going to devour you, don't you?"

She lowered her face for a moment then looked up shyly. I was expecting for her to say either "Please be gentle Sir" or "As you wish Sir." Instead I got this tiny little mischievous grin and "Promises, promises." That was a smile I hadn't seen before and it was the most effective ad for mouth rape ever produced. At the same time her words gave me a genuine belly laugh that was the beginning of a slightly inappropriate public bear hug.

We went to the food court for lunch. She thought that my sushi was gross, I told her that the salad she was having looked like something that something delicious would eat.

After the flea market we went to a local store that I like. It's owned by a Chinese family and carries whatever they were able to get super cheap from some cousin in China that week. I bought a grip exerciser and a new cutting board; she bought a large salad bowl and pack of picture hanging hardware. After we checked out I wasn't quite ready to take her home yet so I took her to a small neighborhood park and after a short walk around we sat in a two-person swing and swayed gently as she rested her head on my shoulder. We were mostly quiet but every once in a while, I would whisper something naughty in her ear. That took her down a bit and caused some humidity in the tropics. That's where really listening to a woman pays off. During the many conversations we had before we met in person, she had told me what excited her, now I was describing doing to her exactly the things she had always wanted done. Somewhere around three o'clock, I don't wear a watch on the weekend, but I am good at telling time by the sun, I took her back to my house.

I led her straight to the bedroom and politely asked her to stand in front of me and remove her clothes while I watched. One of the things you learn as a Dom is that you rarely need to give an order, if you chose the right woman you only need to tell her what you want and she will do her best to please you. Another thing you learn as a Dom is how to tell when there is something on her mind that she can't express because you have compromised her ability to communicate. I sat on the bed to enjoy the show, once she was naked, I pulled her towards me and gave each of her nipples a long slow kiss then looked at her face and saw that something was unsettling her. Using the gentlest and most reassuring voice that I can manage I said, "You look like you have something on your mind, are you able to tell me?"

She got on the bed and knelt with her rump over the edge and her arms extended just as she had that morning then said, "I have a question and a request Sir."

I laid down on the bed like you normally would and pulled her to me, positioning her with her head on my chest. "I only do that when I am teaching you something. What do you need my beauty?"

She buried her head in my chest hiding her face and said, "My body isn't used to being" she paused searching for a word, "filled so full and so much Sir. If you let me serve you that way again will you please use lubricant and be a little bit gentle Sir?"

My ego left my body and ate a nearby planet at the "so full" comment. When it returned, I stroked her hair softly and said simply, "Yes I will."

I waited patiently. Actually, that's not true, I seemed like I was waiting patiently while I was really enjoying the hell out of feeling her warm body against me and the sense of power that comes from being dressed while your woman is naked. When she had collected herself to speak again she asked, "What did you mean when you said it was because I trust you Sir?"

Now it was my turn to take a minute to order my thoughts, the concepts involved are simple but difficult to express. "The world today is very weird in what it teaches women. On the one hand we condition them to be good little virgins and totally repress their sexuality. At the same time, we teach them that they should be sexy and sexually pleasing. It's a really mixed message, kind of like you should enjoy sex but not too much and never ever admit that you want it even when you are having it. Does that make sense?"

"Yes Sir. The first man I was with made me feel like a slut if I got excited, he never said anything but that was how he made me feel and it took a lot for me to get over that."

I nodded and continued, "I not only want you excited, I don't give you any choice. Feeling that from me gives you permission to really enjoy what your body is capable of."

She said, "Thank you Sir." And seemed to mean it but I could tell that there was more to come so I stroked her utterly fabulous skin while I waited. "Last night I had the feeling that you were taking it easy on me Sir. I want you to know that I'm a strong woman. I can take whatever you want to give Sir and I don't mind if you mark me."

My ego left to eat a gas giant while I thought about what a magnificent woman I had surrendering herself to me. I didn't even try to keep the emotion out of my voice as I said, "Thank you for that but I did exactly what I wanted with you last night and I'm going to do it again tonight."

"Thank you, Sir, are we going to nap now?" I was already fighting back a yawn so I just nodded. She shifted and began undoing my belt. Before I could ask what she was up to she asked, "May I please give you sweet dreams Sir?" Since that was pretty much the best offer I have received in an excessively colorful lifetime I gave my permission and removed my shirt while she tended to everything else. Most men these days have had a blow job and we think we are in heaven when a woman shares her throat. Trust me when I say that pales in comparison to having a woman make love to your dick with her mouth. It took a wonderful forever and ended with me feeling like she was swallowing every fiber of my being. As she moved up to warm me with her body I had exactly two thoughts. The first was that I wasn't going to give her the slightest chance to get away. The second was to laugh at myself knowing that there had never been a chance that I was going to give her a chance. She was going to be mine.

I woke up ready to eat a cow, or at least a steak bigger than my head. I had burned a fair amount of energy in the last couple of days, but I think the fact my testosterone level was redlining had more to do with it. Unfortunately, I have learned enough about women to know that feeding them three big meals in one day tends to make them self-conscious and having a more than mature digestive system myself I went with spaghetti instead. It's still a heavy dose of carbs but portion control is easier and, in all modesty, the home-made sauce I keep in the freezer is fairly awesome. I tried to be quiet as I cooked but the moving of pots and pans still woke her and as I was waiting for the pasta water to boil I was treated to the sight of a sleepy beautiful woman wearing nothing but a pair of my socks coming into the kitchen. She came for a hug then asked what we were having. When I told her she said, 'That's perfect, I'm starving!" So much for understanding women. Her next request was for permission to go to the restroom. I demanded a kiss first and told her that she wasn't allowed to close the door. The kiss was sweet but quick which gave me a big smile as she hurried off.

When she returned, I had her tight t-shirt waiting and it was only a few minutes before the pasta was done. When she took her first bite of soft pasta (screw al dente) with my sauce and real Parmesan rather than desiccated vegetable oil from a can, I seriously considered reminding her not to orgasm without permission. She matched me bite for bite, that was impressive but it made me add an hour of snuggling and digesting in front of the TV to the evenings plan. I rarely watch TV other than the news and had no idea what she might like which led to a quandary since she was still in submission enough that asking her to choose would be unpleasant for her. I settled on a show where they rehabbed and re-sold things from a flea market which we both ignored as we enjoyed holding each other and being together. The hour got shortened to half an hour when the episode ended and she sat up to stretch in some magical way that ended with a bare nipple near my mouth and her hand casually resting on my crotch. When I reached for the remote, she stopped me and asked if she could go to the restroom again and close the door this time. I allowed it then watched another fifteen minutes of designers abusing spray paint before she came out. She had pulled her hair back into a short ponytail that looked a lot like a handle to my jaded eye. I couldn't tell if she had removed her makeup or just changed it somehow so that it looked gone, I added that to my "who gives a shit, she's beautiful" list. Just when I didn't think it could get any better, she knelt in front of me and said, "I wanted to make sure that every opening was prepared for you Sir, but I am feeling a little rebellious. You should probably restrain me before I get out of hand." That willing submission and desire to please my friends is why you want a submissive who is only bent, not broken.

Normally I keep my use of profanity to a minimum in front of a lady but this was a time for plain talk. I took her ponytail in my hand and held her by it as I did my best to kiss her toes from the inside then said, "You are fucking fabulous" and went to get the restraints.

As I bound her to the heavy bag, I pressed my body against hers and whispered in her ear, "Are you sure you want to play rough Slave?"

"It's entirely up to you Sir. Just try not to hit like a girl this time." That wasn't the wisest thing I ever heard said but it made the top five for sexiest. The fact that it was accompanied by my second sight of her mischievous grin almost postponed the event in favor of immediate standing sodomy. I split the difference and put my erection between her legs and let her feel it rub against her labia before I stepped back and picked up the heavy flogger. Women's pain tolerances change from night to night for reasons that I have never understood but after a few solid swipes I knew that this was indeed a night for playing rough. The heavy suede flogger painted her skin a lovely shade of light pink and settled her into a very calm and deep level of submission.

It seems counter intuitive but when your submissive wants an intense beating your main toy needs to be fairly mild. I chose a two-foot-long flogger made from forty strands of thin kangaroo leather. It weighs almost nothing and has practically no thud, but it is fairly stingy. When I began, she probably thought that it was part of the warmup and in a way, I suppose it was. Each time it met her skin the pink became just a tiny trace deeper. I went from just below her neck to just below her rump and back one well aimed strike at a time. After five minutes I stopped and examined her skin. Most of it was a uniform shade of medium pink but there was an area just below her shoulder blades that seemed a bit light so I focused there for a minute until she was nice and even, then I stopped and caressed her gently and affectionately. Five minutes isn't very long when you are watching a movie, but it is a very long time when you are being beaten. She was so deep into submission now that the second five minutes probably flew by and I doubted if she would even have a memory of the third.

Her skin and my arm needed a rest, so I began using my distaff hand to play with her trove. I wasn't really trying to stimulate her or me. I just really enjoy touching a very warm and wet pussy and I needed the intimacy. Another of those things that someone who hasn't been there would never realize is that delivering a long beating is very lonely. Her personality and ability to interact were taking a vacation at the moment and in practical terms I had been alone with a lovely but unattended body for some time now. When her skin was halfway back to its normal color and my fingers would straighten fully without tingling I picked up my favorite cane. Like any good cane it's made from rattan, a root that most people think is a form of bamboo. Rattan is generally very flexible and almost impossible to break. This one was much straighter and thicker than most, about as big around as my pinky. If I had shown it to her beforehand it's size would have scared her to death, but the truth is that a thicker cane is much less damaging than a thin one. Of course, any rattan cane used improperly can do horrendous damage and allowing someone who's skill level you don't know to use one on you is very foolish.

The first blow was medium speed and straight across her rump. I made sure that the cane met her flesh evenly, if the tip arrives first it tends to leave a small bruise. The first time I left a white stripe like that across a woman's bottom I felt sure that the police would be photographing it in the emergency room. Even now I find it amazing just how much you can beat a woman's bottom without leaving a lasting mark if you know how. By the third stroke she had returned to her body, but she wasn't coming out of submission, if anything she was going deeper, but it was to a different place in the submissive sphere. The fourth and fifth strokes were to the spot between her shoulder blades, softer but more painful due to the difference in sensitivity. The next five were to her rump, evenly spaced about an inch apart with about ten seconds between each meaty thwack. Both forms of spacing were to allow her to experience each stroke fully. Spacing them closer together in either dimension is wasteful since they blend together. She made her first sound in a long time when I ran a comforting hand over her bottom, an almost inaudible string of m's that formed a primal yummy.

When I unhooked the clip holding her left wrist to the chain that suspended the heavy bag, she held the bag tighter, non-verbally communicating that she didn't want it to be over yet. When I reattached it a few inches lower she hugged the bag like a lover. I moved the right restraint a few inches as well, the minor adjustment relieving some of the stress on her shoulder so the joint wouldn't be sore tomorrow. By the time the adjustment was complete the first set of stripes had mostly faded so I began again. This time I did what I call barcoding, a set of sixteen horizontal stripes half an inch apart covering almost her entire rump. When I talk about doing that in a chat or with another Dom I brag about how the pattern is an actual barcode of my initials which is true, and how you could actually read it with a scanner which is a boast that no one has ever called me on. By any possible measure it's an intense experience for the recipient. This time as I soothed her skin with my hand, I also told her that she was being a very good girl and that I was very proud of her. Both were true and she deserved to be proud of herself.

When her skin tone was as close to being back to normal as it would be before morning I said softly, "Just two more cane strokes Baby but they are going to be intense, then it will be time to whip you." She shifted and moaned but her body language made it clear that she still wanted to be right where she was. I delivered that last two cane strokes to her bottom in quick succession and deliberately tip forward. They weren't overly hard but that spot had been thoroughly tenderized so her entire body stiffened deliciously. The two bruises I left were deliberate, she was having quite an evening and deserved a souvenir. No, I'm not kidding, submissives treasure their marks.

I have two whips; one is about three feet long and made of leather. It has a cracker made of thick string which will mark if you try hard but is usually not too damaging. The other is five feet long and made of braided nylon. It has a thin string cracker and will leave a mark every time if you aren't very careful. It's about as scary as a toy can get and other than the modern materials would be right at home on a pre civil war plantation. I held the nylon whip in my left hand and the leather one in my right. The first few strokes with the leather whip were extremely gentle as I got the distance and the aim just right then I gave her two solid strokes on the back. They left beautiful red lines that would be gone by morning. I swapped the whips between my hands and used the nylon one to make a terrifying crack then swapped again and put three more lines on her body with the leather one. Putting the leather whip down I took the nylon whip in my right and stepped back two feet. She got at least a dozen soft touches as I adjusted and practiced then the whip kissed her right between the shoulder blades. For those of you who don't know the terminology, a kiss of the whip means that only the very tip of the cracker meets the skin and it leaves a mark about the same size as a bee sting. I gave her four more kisses, two on her lower back and two on her bottom then I drew a line between her shoulders that leaked just a tiny bit of blood at its deepest point. That was her second souvenir and the end of this part of the evening.

She didn't resist when I unhooked her restraints this time. The last whip strike had brought her back pretty close to the surface and she was reasonably steady on her feet though clearly a bit shocked. After a long hug she looked up at me with little girl eyes and said, "You whipped me, you actually whipped me, didn't you?"