The Landlady Pt. 03 Ch. 07-09

The first week of full control

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Chapter 7.

The contract explained.

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After the day I'd had, leaving the bathroom door open to shower didn't seem like such a big deal. But it was just as well I was pretty warm blooded, because the bathroom, though tasteful, was as bare as my bedroom. The shower had only a single transparent, fixed glass screen to stop the water splashing everywhere. Even that was set at right angles to the door, so there was an uninterrupted view from the hallway right into the shower. I could even see the front door, so it was pretty obvious what that meant.

In all my naked escapades at home and elsewhere, I'd invariably dress once I'd let off steam. Now I realised I'd no longer have that luxury. I'd seen Sam go in the direction of my room while I was showering, but I didn't want to make her wait by going to check if I was right. So once I dried off, all I had to do was walk back down the hallway to see her as I'd been instructed. Being a naked boy certainly saved time.

Sam indicated silently for me to kneel at her feet as she half reclined in her usual spot.

She had me slide in until her hand was easily able to rest on my head. I could see a document with a lot of fine print open on her iPad.

"It's odd, even after he'd been living here for months, I never once felt the desire to take control of Tony the way I do with you after a single day. I know it's early days yet, but I want to amend something in our contract."

As she began to read, she stroked my hair. The sensation was both comforting and humiliating, but I couldn't say which feeling was dominant.

"This contract is between Samantha Smit-Wesseling and Andre Cuypers, hereafter referred to as owner and tenant, bla bla bla....

"Look you can read through this if you want to, but basically there are pretty standard clauses about rent, damages, and reasons to annul the contract.

The relevant bit relates to why I'm agreeing to waive rent, and assist you with buying your own property in a year or so from now. I've amended it because I want you to be part of an experiment - something that would be very useful to me. I want you to agree to be fully controlled by me for a trial period of 3 months."

"What does full control mean?"

"Do you trust me enough to accept that I will do that in a way that respects your boundaries and will do you no harm? I can write it all down in here-" She tapped the screen with her nail. "..but doesn't mean much if you don't trust me."

My head was spinning again. "What are you actually asking me Samantha?"

She sighed, looking thoughtful for a moment. Finally she sat up, allowing her hand to stop its slow head stroking and come to rest on my shoulder.

"You remember the online group I told you about? The one where I met Tony?"

It seemed more like weeks than hours since she'd told me, but I wasn't likely to forget that.

"Yes, of course. The chat group."

"Well it was a little more than that. More a side project of mine, for like minded women to find men who share a particular fetish and are willing to take it seriously."

"What fetish is that?" I had the feeling I already knew the answer.

"You know me well enough by now Andre," she said, her other hand coming to rest on the back of my neck. "I'm not a woman who lets anyone tell her what to do, least of all men. Turns out there are plenty of men of all ages looking for exactly that. Of course there are professional escorts out there offering domination and every flavour of SM you can think of. But my interests are rather more refined and they don't cater to the male fantasy version of submission. Men have gotten away with centuries of objectifying women. That inequality is still baked into us to this day. The crap we have to put up with, and half the time you don't even know you're doing it."

I went to speak but she silenced me with a look. "Yes, even you Andre. I've heard the way you talked about some of the women at work. So, I set up a group primarily to find other women. Firstly to find out if I was the only one who thought being dominant with men meant exactly that. Controlling them, enjoying their bodies, humiliating them and setting rules putting our own pleasure first. In other words, objectifying them as they have done to us.

"And now I know there are a lot more of us than I ever imagined. I met dozens of women who live in full time sub/dom relationships with their boyfriends. One woman who particularly inspired me told me she refused to be with any man who wasn't into being in a submissive CFNM relationship. She told her potential partners on the first date to take it or leave it.

"These women had ostensibly normal, loving relationships with their men, but they'd found a way to go through the looking glass and invert the usual male/female dynamic in a way that was entirely of their own making. I've spent the last couple of years formulating my own philosophy about what submissive relationships actually are, and I've come to realise it's as much an emotional need as a sexual one. These men seek out women who allow them be weak and vulnerable when they're safely out of society's gaze. And being men, they sexualise their emotions like they do everything else.

"So when you came out about your interest in CFNM last night, it actually made perfect sense to me. Which brings me to the experiment. Seeing your behaviour inside just these few hours has only strengthened my conviction that being submissive is only partly to do with the gender of the dominant. For some men, a male dominant would be out of the question, but I've come across plenty of examples where the sub has been compelled to let his dominant wife or girlfriend blur the lines for her own amusement. Men have their own hangups and insecurities about themselves and their bodies, and what can be more loving than a wife giving her husband a way to work through them?"

She was gripping my neck tighter as she spoke, clearly inspired by her specialist subject.

"There was this one woman whose husband had a very respectable job representing a large professional group in the building industry. After years of marriage he finally confessed to his wife he had a cuckolding fantasy. She came to my group looking for advice, but once she told me about their sub average sex life up to that point-" Here she held up the pinky of her left hand and wiggled it in front of me.

"It seemed pretty obvious. She'd been settling for his well intentioned attempts at satisfying her, and here was the perfect set-up where'd they both get what they wanted. So she found herself a younger lover, and over time developed a fascinating triangle. Friends, albeit unequal, because on the weekends her lover came to stay, her shrimp-dicked husband would end up in the corner of the room, watching them fuck. I was never prouder of one of my students than when she told me she'd decided she could take it so much further.

After some private negotiation with the young man, he agreed to let her husband lick her juices off his 20 centimetre long penis. Shrimp dick resisted, but not for long. Turns out he's an excellent cocksucker too.

"So to find someone of your sexuality so willing to obey a woman makes you a fascinating subject. I can't wait to see just how far I can take things with you.

"And to show you how much this is worth to me, I'm even willing to make it more interesting for you. Not only will I waive the rent, I'll set up an account with my property broker which will be credited with an equivalent amount for each month you keep up your end of the contract.

"You asked me what full control means. What Julia told me only reinforced what I already figured out from your behaviour last night my boy. You were only too willing to let me set the rules, and there was no hesitation from you when you heard your trigger word. The clothes came right off, and there you were, completely naked in front of your friends for over an hour.

And you even managed to get an erection despite all the drama.

No, constant, mandatory nudity is absolutely the key to your obedience and I think we can both get a lot from exploring that.

So, you've already agreed to have your clothing decided for you in my house. Full control includes outside as well. You will only have access to what I give you, when I give it to you. I've already made a preselection of your work clothing and I will adapt that as I see fit. "

"Ok... I guess," I wasn't too sure what it meant but it didn't sound too scary.

"More importantly, it means you agree to give me full control over your body. That control is absolute. Your body hair, head to toe - not that you have much of it. If you have access to your cock at all. And you will accept whichever disciplinary measures I deem necessary to your development as my submissive."

Her hands had begun touching me as she talked. I found myself craving the feeling of her fingers on my chest again, and she didn't disappoint.

"Finally, I'll be stricter with you that I planned. Sometimes much stricter. Of course you'll sign this contract If you agree to all of these terms unconditionally. But I'm more interested in your answer right now. Your body is already telling me what you want boy."

She was right. My guilty cock was rigid again. Astonishing.

"Yes Ma'am," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Good boy. I think you can truly benefit from the kind of discipline and surrender poor Tony was incapable of. Speaking of discipline, we have some other business to take care of."

"Yes Samantha?"

"When I was telling Julia about our conversation last night, you directly contradicted me, didn't you boy?"

"But I didn't ask you if I could be naked in front of you..." I said lamely.

"Yes you did, when you took off your clothes as soon as I told you to. When you masturbated shamelessly in front of me. When you agreed to move in here, knowing it meant more of the same. All of that was a desperate cry to expose yourself for me. Besides which, you need to learn never to contradict me in front of anyone again. Do I make myself clear?" There was no doubting the seriousness in her face or voice.

"Yes Samantha."

"We're not done yet. Get up on your knees." She manoeuvred me until I was kneeling next to her stockinged leg. For a moment I thought she was going to start stroking my head, or pinch my nipples again. Instead, she pushed my head down until I was bent across her lap.

I could smell her clothes and something else musky and feminine. But that was driven from my mind by a sharp pain as she brought her bare hand squarely down on both of my ass cheeks.

This was no playful slap either. It rang loud and stung like hell.

"Count," she commanded.

"One."

"One, Samantha!"

"Sorry. One Samantha."

Her hand came down again, harder than before.

"Two Samantha,"

I think the discomfort in my voice only egged her on. By the time we'd gotten to twenty it was obvious the little traces of verbal sadism she'd displayed so far were part of something physical too. And the strange thing was, it felt right. I saw how much I deserved it for openly speaking out. So I took each stroke almost with gratitude, although by the end my eyes were watering from the intensity of her blows and what they meant. Who knew I had that inside me?

"Forty Samantha," I counted finally. My ass stung red and I felt both chastened and oddly comforted she was willing to expend so much energy on me.

"Sit," she said a little breathlessly. I returned to my place at her feet and she lifted my chin to look at her. She wiped a trickle from my cheek and asked, sounding for all the world like the most loving mother.

"I don't think I even need to ask you if you're ready to sign, do I?"

I shook my head, and with a trembling finger, signed my name on the screen.

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chapter 8

A very personal trainer

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I went to work on Monday, wearing the clothes Samantha had hung on the back of the bathroom door. She was taking her control seriously, even choosing my shoes, socks and underwear. By the time I got home, the remainder of my boxes had been removed from my room. Samantha was out, but I stripped quickly anyway.

I tried to do a little surreptitious exploring, but there really wasn't much to find. Not daring to go down the corridor to Sam's wing of the penthouse, I satisfied myself with trying to open the other doors along the main hallway. They all turned out to be securely locked, including the door to my closet.

It was just as well I wasn't too audacious in my search, because she returned home weighed down with shopping bags. I went to the front door as I heard her come in, for a moment forgetting I was naked in front of the wide open doorway. She smiled at me as I hastened to help her with the numerous bags. She walked in the direction of the passageway to her suite, but before I could follow, she told me to wait for her there.

I stood, uncertain what to do and when she returned some minutes later she seemed pleased to see me standing in what I hoped was a suitably humble pose, with my hands behind my back. It was still a jolt when I allowed myself to be conscious of being in her... my apartment completely naked. She put her hand on my head and gave a gentle pressure, making her intention clear. I kneeled in front of her, bowing my head under the continuing press of her hand. She stroked my hair briefly, and a moment later I heard a metallic clink, and a cool sensation as she put something around my neck. She fastened it at the back and lifted my chin to look me in the eyes.

"This is a significant moment my boy. With the placing of my collar I formally accept you as my novice, and you accept me as your owner, as we agreed in our contract.

This collar will be worn at all times when you're under my roof, or in my company in other locations of my choosing. It will have a place in the closet by the door. Each day when you return home, you will strip immediately of course and put it on as soon as your'e naked.

It will only come off again immediately before you leave the house."

"Yes Samantha." This was new to me, but the symbolism didn't escape me, nor leave me unmoved. "Thank you for accepting me," I said finally.

"Something else, Samantha is a little too familiar. I'm not a huge fan of ma'am or Mistress, so I think we'll go with Miss. No one else addresses me that way, and I like how quirky that will sound to others. So Miss it is."

"Yes Miss." I said, feeling the oddest stirring in my groin.

As we ate that evening she set out some house rules. The rest of my clothing had been put under lock and key, and would only be accessible when necessary and at her discretion.

She'd prepared places for me to sit in both the kitchen and living room, and there was even a small TV room for me. One without a door of course.

"And another thing. You may be under the misguided impression I'll be making a habit of... taking care of you," she said, somewhat disdainfully circling her finger at my midriff.

"Alas. This is not about getting your little boy balls off. Your orgasms are now for my pleasure - not yours - and I'll take them when I please, where and when I want, whether that's 3 times a day, once a month, or not at all. Do you understand boy?

Yes..Miss," I said, the words feeling strange in my mouth.

"On Friday I've arranged for you to have the day off. I told them you needed to finalise the details of your move, and you're entitled to time off. I knew you wouldn't take it, so I did.

"Thank you..Miss."

I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised at this invasive intervention, but it was still sobering to realise this was already reaching into my outside life too.

"We have a full day planned, starting with your first session with your personal trainer.

I'll give you the details the day before. And now I'm going to retire to my suite. I'll see you tomorrow."

I stood up from the stool in the kitchen as she rose. But instead of turning to go, she again took the back of my head in the palm of her hand, and pushed me down. Once on my knees, she kept pressing until I was bent over at the waist. Her hand was exchanged for the sole of her fashionable pump and my head was pushed to the floor, until my face was next to her other foot.

"Now kiss me goodnight boy," she said sweetly.

Since the only thing within kissing distance was her shoe, I duly kissed it and remained prone until I heard her shoes clicking off into the distance.

The week went quickly and to my immense relief, I found out Daniel was working out of the office all week. At least that was one uncomfortable conversation I didn't have to have yet.

Each night I returned home was more or less a repeat. I'd strip and collar myself, finding I even began to look forward to getting home. The collar felt oddly safe, like a symbol of sanctuary in a way, and I began to get used to sleeping and showering in it. Being constantly naked was making me powerfully horny too, and it was very hard to resist the urge to have a sneaky wank while I lay there in the dark. But I told myself I needed to respect the contract I'd signed, so at the end of the trial I'd know if Sam really had been right about me. And besides, the collar around my neck was a constant reminder of my promise.

As I went to bed on Thursday, Samantha reminded me our appointments for the following day.

"I've booked a specialised personal trainer for you. You have a good body, but with work you could be fitter and healthier. This is also someone I know can help you in other areas of your personal development. Your trainer will arrive at 9:00, so you will be ready and waiting to open the door. Do not dawdle and make me do it, or you know what will happen. The gym will be open and I will leave a set of gym clothes in your bathroom as usual. Now kiss me goodnight."

Relieved to hear I wasn't expected to be naked in front of some macho trainer, I did what I now knew was expected, and knelt dutifully to kiss her foot. She seemed to like using her other heel on the back of my head as I did so, so I'd already reconciled myself to the understanding even in this simple action, she was in control. I'd come up with a little mantra to say after the kiss - 'Thank you for allowing me to serve you Miss'. She'd told me what a good boy I was the first time I used it, and it was extraordinary to realise the pride I felt when she did.

When I woke, sure enough my benefactor had left out a plain white sleeveless shirt and a pair of black running shorts, thankfully lined considering the absence of underwear. Once I had them on, they proved to be pretty loose, so I made sure to tie the drawstring securely. The last thing I wanted was my shorts slipping down on the treadmill.

Unsure of whether Sam was home or not, I got myself ready and hovered near the intercom until it buzzed at 2 minutes to 9. Whoever this guy was, he didn't feel the need to announce himself, and by the time the screen on the entry system flicked into life, all I could see was his back and a gym bag disappearing through the street entry downstairs.

I waited a little nervously, and the lift announced itself. My trainer was all in black - lycra pants, black Nike running shoes and a skin tight halter top. Because idiot, sexist idiot that I was, Samantha had of course not booked a man, but an absurdly fit young woman who looked like a professional gymnast. She smiled cooly at me as she extended her hand.

"You must be Andre. I'm Jenka and we're going to be working together for the next 12 weeks."

She looked me up and down for a moment before striding toward a door half way down the hallway. It was obvious she knew where she was going, because she pushed it open and waved her arm generously at me to join her.