tagBDSMDocumenting the Relationship

Documenting the Relationship


"Troy will be here Tuesday night," He told her, "to work his special magic with the camera. I believe that one of the best possible Valentine's Day experiences should be a documentation of O/our relationship."

she simply smiled sweetly, barely daring to look up from where she knelt beside His favorite reclining chair while Joe Scarborough prattled on. "That would be wonderful, Master. How do You want Troy to photograph U/us?"

He reached over the arm of the recliner to gently stroke her head, petting her like a beloved puppy. "I have an idea in mind," He replied quietly, His gentle confidence and firm decisiveness exuding through both His voice and His touch. "And I believe that it will create a very memorable night for you."

"Thank You, Master," she replied gracefully. "You show Your slave too much kindness sometimes."

"Oh? In that case, across My thighs, now!"

Inwardly, she smiled, eagerly awaiting the lengthy, harsh spanking she had craved all day long.


Valentine's Day had finally arrived. While her Master had been busy at the office all day, she had cleaned the house, even the garage. Rarely did she ever venture outside during the winter, yet despite the permission she had received at the onset of the season of cold, she strode to and from the garage without any special preparation: wearing only her goosebump-embellished skin and her lengthy dark-brown locks.

she had prepared her Master's favorite meal: spaghetti, salad, and wine. The meal nearly ready upon His arrival, T/they had eaten almost immediately, enjoying the quiet time together, her naked feet resting in His lap underneath the table.

"Go prepare," He had finally instructed her. "I have left some items for you upon the bed. No make-up tonight, please."

"But my after-dinner chores..." she had started to ask, but His gesture immediately silenced her, and that was when she knew that this night would be truly special.

Now, standing before the mirror in T/their bedroom, she wondered. she wore the four thick leather cuffs, one for each extremity. she wore a simple, thin, off-white dress, a plain-looking garment so thin that it may as well have been transparent for its lack of socially-acceptable "coverage" of her intimate anatomy; even though she was not standing outside in the snow, her nipples were clearly visible against the super-thin fabric, causing her to wonder just where her Master had located this dress, or at least the material to have this dress made for her.

As she watched her reflection in the mirror and admired the young woman she had become since her awkward teenage years, she brushed her waist-length hair and studied her form, thinking of her image in the same way that her Master must certainly see her. The near-transparent nature of the thin garment could certainly not hide her many curves, and definitely not the two swells upon her chest. she thought of the many times He had restrained her in some way, simply to gaze upon or reverently touch her many curves for eternities on end.

she also thought of the many times He had restrained her in some way, punishing her many curves with one of His many floggers for eternities on end. Sometimes, she truly needed to be disciplined; sometimes, He simply wanted to watch her squirm or even hear her scream for Him.

But this was Valentine's Day. her Master certainly would not hurt her, not on this particular night.

...or would He?

she set aside the brush and cupped her breasts through the barely-there dress. For more than two years, she had served as His slave, being trained to serve Him and, occasionally, His Dominant friends and/or Their slaves. Even in high school, she had realized that she was happiest when she was helping or even serving others, putting others' needs and wants and desires before her own; He had recognized that in her and, acting upon His own interests in BDSM, slowly worked T/their relationship from a standard college romance to one which included bondage play and eventually consensual S&M, until, at last, T/they had graduated and lived T/together as Master and slave.

she squeezed her breasts one final time, imagining that His larger, stronger hands were squeezing them instead. How often had He looped rope or thin leather cord around each breast, or applied various clamps to her nipples, or suckled gently as if He were a newborn babe, or beaten her chest severely just to enjoy seeing the reddening effect? Any treatment – harsh or gentle – of her breasts had always made her feel even more feminine, and, in a very strange and inexplicable way, more loved by her Master.

At last, she made her way downstairs. The dinner dishes and the leftovers had been cleared away, and the basement door was open, with the sound of moving equipment reaching her ears. Barefoot, she descended the many steps into the cool air, finally reaching the basement playroom with her chill-hardened nipples being gently teased by the barely-there dress brushing slightly across them.

Troy was setting up his photography equipment, and her Master was assisting. Troy turned around first and gave her an appreciative smile, a smile she returned without embarrassment, as Troy had seen and heard her in much more compromising positions and situations on more than a few occasions over the years. her Master then turned around to ask Troy a question, then closed His mouth as He saw her standing just inside the doorway, instead extending a hand toward her. she quickly crossed the room to Him, sharing a long, strong hug.

"Everything should be ready in about ten minutes or so," He informed her. "Go stand by Position 2 along the wall."

Reluctantly, she left His hold, and a moment later stood at the required point. The black velvet-covered wall felt quite sensual against her backside; she could also discern the winter temperature permeating the wall, the coolness further hardening her nipples almost to the point of distraction.

The special lights came on, and Troy stood behind the camera, checking various things that she did not understand or recognize. "Go ahead and restrain her," Troy said, "while I finish the preparations."

"Sure." her Master approached, and she looked up into His eyes with a growing smile.

"Are You going to beat me for Valentine's Day, Master?" she asked quietly, hopefully softly enough that Troy would not be able to hear her question.

"If I do," He replied, "it will be after Troy leaves." He gave her a wink, and she giggled.

her giggles subsided as her Master knelt before her, securing each thick leather ankle cuff to a short chain attached to the wall. Typically, if T/they did not have any company and He did not intend to discipline her, He would kiss and fondle His way up her body; this time, her Master simply stood again, stretching each arm out to the side to secure its thick leather wrist cuff to another short chain attached to the wall. Once secured, she was clearly not going to escape whatever was planned for the evening unless her Master (or, perhaps, Troy) released her.

He kissed her – long, slow, sweetly, lovingly. she surrendered to Him, enjoying the kiss, enjoying the press of His body against hers, enjoying the feel of His hands on either side of her head. she wanted desperately to wrap her arms around Him, to pull Him not just against her, but deep into her, but her bonds provided a nice, welcome frustration as she pulled against them, the captive chains completing her submission to the One who had long ago captured her heart.

her Master at last stepped back, admiring her quite-visible body one more time before retreating to the shelf along the wall to her right. He returned with a wide black leather strap with a D-ring on either end; He placed it across her waist, and secured it to even shorter chains attached to the wall on either side of her, thus disallowing her any movement away from the wall, a strategy He would often employ for severe floggings. Reaching into His back pocket, He retrieved a black leather blindfold and carefully placed it over her eyes, its fake-fur lining soft and sensual over and around her eyes and upon the bridge of her nose. With a final pat to the top of her head, her Master stepped away, leaving her alone in her world of sensual darkness and restraint.

A long time seemed to pass for her, as she had no visible reference of the passage of time. As Troy and her Master finished preparations, she tested her bonds, squirming, pulling, ultimately finding herself quite secured as usual, as she enjoyed. The barely-there dress took the edge of the usual sense of vulnerability, but she still felt vulnerable enough to enjoy the special thrill of her bondage, her inescapability, her willing captivity.

"Now, then," He said softly from almost directly in front of her, startling her away from her thoughts, "I have something very special for you, for U/us."

First, He kissed her, a hand gently placed against her cheek as T/their lips joined briefly. she strained against her bonds, wanting to touch Him in return. But then He backed away from her, leaving her alone once again in her darkness and her captivity.

But just a few heartbeats later, her Master adorned her with something very special, something with such a high level of meaning that it was even better than the wedding ring she had hoped to receive on this very night.

He collared her.

Previously, she would wear a collar on occasion, but only for the duration of their BDSM scenarios. Those collars would be purely functional, wide and unattractive items with multiple D-rings or O-rings for attachment points for whatever He had intended for each scenario. Further, those collars had previously been worn by other slaves, essentially hand-me-downs from others who had been trained by their Masters and Mistresses previously.

The collar He placed around her thin, vulnerable neck was quite different. First, this collar was thin, an inch tall at most, a rather dainty size in her opinion. Second, this collar was lined with a comfortable fur-like material, just like the inside of the blindfold she wore, which meant that He intended for her to wear this collar a long time, perhaps on a near-permanent basis. Third, she could feel a tiny chain extending down from the front-center of the collar to what felt like a small heart-shaped pendant against her collarbone.

The lining of her blindfold could not contain her tears of joy as the collar was fastened behind her neck. she so desperately wanted to fling herself against her Master, crush Him with her embrace, pepper His face with hot kisses... but the bonds held her all too firmly to the velvet-covered wall. But she at least had the opportunity to show her appreciation and gratitude in the long, loving kiss T/they shared after the collar was firmly in place.


A few weeks later, for the anniversary of the first time she submitted to Him, He revealed a gift for the playroom: a series of framed photographs, portraying her from the chest upward, of her collaring. The first showed her alone bound to the wall. The second showed her Master slightly to her left side applying the collar. The third showed her alone, bound to the wall, with the collar in easy view, the line of thin embedded gems sparkling beautifully. In all three photographs, the pale color of both her skin and her dress contrasted greatly with the surrounding dominant black color, and also helped to focus the eyes upon her collar.

Kneeling at her Master's side, she watched with a smile as He finished mounting the third photograph. her fingers once again drifted across the collar she wore, the very same collar shown in the photographs. It was without question the best possible gift she had ever received, so much more meaningful than anything else she could ever imagine. And just as special to her was the set of three framed photographs upon the wall of the playroom, a very good documentation of a very special moment in T/their long, loving, intimate relationship.

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