Owning Regina: Diary of my unxpected passion for another woman (11 page)

After I indulged myself in her punishment for about a half hour, I decided to show some mercy. I took off her gag, which left indentations on her cheeks from where the leather straps had been. I gave her permission to answer me when spoken to. She stretched her jaw up and down a couple times as I think she had been quite uncomfortable in her bridle. I spoke, “You were such a good girl during dinner and sat so obediently, I think you deserve some dessert.”  Extending my right leg, I continued, “Lick my boot.” “Yes, Mistress,” she eagerly replied.

And she began to lick my boot as if it were the biggest cock in the world. She started at the tip of my toe and gradually covered more and more. Her tongue was driven by all the passion she had in her body. It was as sexual as anything anyone could imagine. She was in bliss. All the years of a crappy marriage and the heavy burden of being a single mom were finally shed away as she relished every bit of her feminine sexuality. She was alive. She was licking my cock.

On the Pandora mix came the sexiest song I have ever heard, an oldie but a goodie… David Bowie’s “Putting out the fire with Gasoline” from the Cat People movie. It was the perfect soundtrack to watching her. She got to the top of my boot… and kept going. I didn’t stop her. She caressed my leg with the same commitment as below, reaching my inner thigh and eventually, my sweet spot under my dress. I helped her a little by pulling my panties aside. There was some awkwardness as we worked to get the perfect angle. Her tongue was melting me. She was fire.

Nothing on the Earth has ever felt better to me. It was my slave. But it was Regina too. She had extremely detailed command of her tongue and carefully gauged my reactions so that she could better stimulate me at each moment. I grabbed her hair with one hand and pulled it tight to her approving moan. She brought me to an incredible crescendo… so much so that I leaned back, accidentally knocking a wine glass off the table.

I was floating. A breeze of love washed across my whole body. I had nothing left, as if having been in a sauna for 2 hours. Regina, hands still locked behind her back, rested her head on my thigh in order to feel close to me and have a connection. I gently played with her hair. With each pass of my fingers, she seemed to be purring, intoxicated by our passion and honesty.

I needed to be close to her too. "That was some kind of crazy day," I lovingly uttered. She quickly sat upright and shocked me by forcefully blurting out, "No, Mistress. It was NOT a crazy day. Please don't leave me!! I beg of you."  And real tears came over her as she started to cry.  I was rattled, not expecting this in the least. I had planned on getting her off, but not until later. By her reaction, I realized that she was still in the headspace of the game and wasn't complete. Even though it was a game, it was as real as real could be.

The mind is a powerful thing. I'm afraid of heights and if I anybody recounts a story of their parachute jump, my hands get sweaty and my heart races. The parachute jump is as real to me as if I was doing it right then myself. That's how the game was to Regina. She wasn't a mom. She wasn't teacher. She wasn't happy and bright. She was Meg's object. She needed to be controlled and handled.  Fine.

"Fine," I blasted. "You want more, you got it!"  I shoved the gag back in her mouth and buckled it as tight as I could, causing a little yelp as she felt the force. Then I stood tall and pulled her upright with me. I took off her clogs, yanked off her yoga pants, removed my boots and put them on her feet instead. I zipped them up. This was all happening very fast and with a brusqueness that such an object deserves.

From the closet, I grabbed the heavy steel chain I had used on her before and locked one end tightly around her neck. I grabbed the other end and led her forcibly down the stairs to the garage. I loved dragging her by the neck with her hands locked behind her back. It felt like I was a Roman soldier dragging a slave to the coliseum. She struggled to navigate the stairs in her high heels without the help of handrails. Anybody seeing this would have immediately assumed that it was not consensual and that the poor girl was in danger.  This was the game in full effect. I felt so tough in acting out with my aggression. I wasn't my own "Meg" self. And maybe I was a little over zealous because I was really in the mood to cuddle after my orgasm, but she screwed that up. Regina was completely in the zone.

Once at the garage, I took the loose end of the chain, wrapped it several times around the top of a workbench leg, so that she was secured with her cheek laying on the workbench surface. I snapped the padlock closed and she was stuck there, her head on the workbench, her hands in long opera gloves handcuffed behind her back… and a whole lot of aching need. "Is this what you are looking for? Is this doing it for you," I called out in a dickish intonation. Struggling to understand her through the gag, I heard a mushy version of "Yes, Mistress." But I wasn't going to leave it alone.

From the top of the washing machine, I snatched a couple of wooden clothespins. The real "Meg" had a hard time with it, but my dark side fought for me to clothespin each of her nipples that were suspended downward from her position (her head chained low and ass out). The clothespins easily overpowered the thin cotton barrier of her tank top and she gave a big wince when each clothespin was applied.

At the sight of her pain, "Meg" came forth with the most warm and sincerely loving tone, "Hey, baby… are you ok?" Regina, or rather, slave-object-girl defiantly uttered a mushy version of "Fuck you!" 

"Really now?" I retorted, snapping right back to the game and away from Meg. I picked up a ping-pong paddle from the shelf and started paddling her bare ass. Her thong gave no protection to her derrière. I smacked her hard with three good swats to blow off my immediate steam. She shrieked with each blow.

Then, I calmed myself down enough to hit her with a softer, more measured cadence for about twenty times. Regina was euphoric and was helping meet the paddle each time by extending her ass for it. She wanted it. She wanted the paddle. And she was moaning softly as if she was in her own world without me. After the paddling, I put both of my hands on her bottom and rubbed gently with loving passion. She was still moaning in that same way. I removed the clothespins. With each one, she screamed as the blood rushed back into the area that had been clamped, causing a rush of sharp pain. But I wasn't done yet.

In an improvised stroke of genius, I saw the electric sander tool on the workbench and plugged it in. It vibrated like crazy. I wrapped it in a beach towel from the laundry basket and held the padded sander between her legs as her head was stills chained down to the workbench.  Within about 10 seconds, she convulsed into an all out eruption of passion. She was shaking and writhing… burning rapture! She had an orgasm that seemed to go on an on. Slowly, it turned into a soft whimper with tears as she felt the discomfort from both the painful pose and the strict paddling she had endured.  I could tell she was trying to hold back the tears, probably embarrassed to have her mistress see her so weak.

Fuck her. I decided to go back upstairs and leave her chained in the garage a for a bit. In fact, I went up to my room, grabbed my vibrator, and thought about how in command I was of her. I stayed about twenty minutes, playing with myself and getting so turned on thinking about her being chained in the garage while I was comfortably reclining with my vibrator. I exploded with lust in a very loud climax.

Finally, I thought the poor girl had had enough. I warmed a towel with hot water and took it to the garage. When I opened the door, she was still whimpering. I think the position was especially uncomfortable and causing her to ache.  When I surprised her by putting the moist warm towel on her red and tender bottom, she recoiled at first touch… then slowly realized she was in tender care and relaxed herself.  I removed her gag.

"That was some crazy day wasn't it?" I offered. Regina softly answered, "Yes, Meg, it was quite a day."  I knew I had my Regina back. I quickly unchained her and gave her the biggest hug in the history of the world. Of course, she couldn't hug back since her arms were still handcuffed and the key was up in the house. But she hugged back with all her soul. And we kissed. They were sweet and warm kisses with nothing but joy and honesty for each other. She looked like she had been through the wringer.  It had been quite a day, to say the least.

Back upstairs, I uncuffed her and we collapsed on the couch, arm in arm. We both felt like we had just been on a wild rollercoaster and needed to be still together. I took off her boots (or maybe they are mine) and rubbed her feet for a few moments while she laid back with her eyes closed. Touching her feet was like kissing her softly. We were connecting on a deep level. When I’m 38, I hope I look half as beautiful as her.  She was very relaxed, content. In hopes of making up for the mean mistress’s ways, I told her, “You must be starving. I’m going to make you a real dinner now! Poor girl never got a chance to eat.”

But first, I poured her a glass wine and poured myself one too (since mine had been shattered in the commotion of violent passion). As she sipped the wine, a fun smile came over her… and then some giggles. “You’re crazy. You’re fucking crazy.” I was laughing at the whole thing too. I gave her a full kiss on the lips and we looked into each other’s eyes. “I just kissed a girl,” I whispered softly with a smile. In each other’s eyes, we saw an emerging friendship that had already been going on for a hundred years and was just now becoming visible.

“I’m going to draw you a bath,” I said. She looked pleased. “After that, dinner will be ready and I promise I will not be mean to you, c’mon.” I led her to the bathroom and started the water. There were some amazing Sonoma bath salts that would make her feel revitalized. I dimmed the lights, lit the candles and put my soft music mix on the Bose speakers. Haha. The first song was a delicate rendition of 
It Takes Two To Tango
by Lester Young. “Oh my gosh, You’re spoiling me,” she remarked. “No, you’re spoiling me,” I responded.

As she settled into her bath, I went downstairs for a minute and returned with an ice-cold glass of cucumber/ginger water with slices of oranges in it. I also gave her the latest issues of my stupid gossip and celebrity magazines. I figured she might like to check in on actors of “The Young and The Restless.”

In the kitchen, I started a stir-fry and listened to my own music, Philip Glass. The rolling minimalism felt just right for being in a place where I was floating with no boundaries.

I had a few thoughts like, “Am I gay now? Am I still capable of being turned on by a guy? Is this some kind of over-the-top rebound or revenge sex from Boyfriend X?” But as the Phillip Glass music started to penetrate and as I stared at the sizzling vegetables, I let all that go away. There was a beautiful woman in my bathtub with a beautiful soul. There was a woman who not only didn’t judge my kinky sexuality, but also reveled in it.  And before I knew it, the doubting self was washed away, leaving only the purity of Regina as a person. 

Dinner was about ready. I wasn’t going to eat (again) so I made Regina’s plate extra fancy; the stir-fry was sitting atop a bright orange carrot puree and I clipped a little rosebud from the front of the house to complete the plate.  During cooking, I had taken the thickest powder blue bathrobe you have ever seen and put it in the dryer on high for 10 minutes.  I went to the bathroom to tell her dinner was ready and to present her with the warm bathrobe. She was nude and immediately slipped under the bubbles out of modesty. “Oh, sorry,” I apologized, “I didn’t mean to catch you like that.” It was kind of sweet how we had this crazy sex and then she was worried about me seeing her body.  But I completely understood.  The body can take on a more utilitarian form when not viewed in the glow of a sexually charged moment. I excused myself back to the kitchen to give her privacy.

A moment later, Regina came downstairs in the bathrobe. “Best bath of my life. Better than a spa day. I loved the magazines. The robe is still warm!”  In seeing her coming down the stairs, I was drawn to her and met her near the last few steps. I stood a step below her and she towered over me. On level ground she is almost a head taller than me. Now the height difference was exaggerated. I put my hands around her waist, craning my face upward to look in her eyes, and a conversation flowed:

ME

The flowers you brought me are perfect. I’m really touched.

REGINA

(Sarcastic)

Yeah, I could tell.

ME

Do you think the game is going to get us in trouble? You know, maybe someone’s feelings will get hurt in the game and it would bleed into real life?

REGINA

I think we can keep it straight.

ME

I guess.  But it could get tricky in some situations.

REGINA