Owning Regina: Diary of my unxpected passion for another woman (33 page)

Once I was in the boots, she remained kneeling at my feet. Clearly turned on, she hesitantly asked permission to lick my boots, which I denied. She seemed surprised at the denial and groveled, “I understand Mistress. Please forgive me for asking so selfishly.”

It was mind-bogglingly hot to see how deep and how quickly she had fallen into the game. Regular Regina was a thousand miles a way. The slave Regina was completely mired in the present.

If I would have told her to walk to the 7-1l store completely naked, I’m positive she would have thrown herself into it without the slightest thought of the legality or dangers involved. The teacher Regina was somebody completely different.  But of course, as a responsible slave owner, I would never subject her to anything in the game that could be detrimental in real life. Plus, we have rules about that.

Unlike Regina, I am able to be deeply engrossed in the game while still keeping a toe on the ground in the real world. Do you know how dolphins sleep? They literally turn off half their brain and let it sleep while the other half remains just lucid enough to maintain function and watch for dangers.  Isn’t that the coolest?  That’s kind of how I am in the game. But that doesn’t mean I’m not profoundly engaged in our scenes.

“Bring me that switch,”I blasted
.
Terrified and eager to make up for the overindulgence on the boots, she immediately grabbed a knife from the kitchen and headed out the back door to the ash tree.

The Helmut Newton book called out to me as I sat on the piano bench. I began thumbing through it while the slave went about her task outdoors.

It must have been 10 minutes before she returned. That seemed like an excessive amount of time just to cut a branch from a tree. Was she indecisive about the weight of the switch? Was she having difficulty cutting the branch? Either way, it was grounds for punishment.

Finally, she returned, holding not one but two switches in her hands. One was the diameter of a pencil. It would really bite when whipped! The other was the thickness of the fat end of a pool cue.  That hunk of wood looked dangerous. She was a brave woman!

“You brought me two. How indecisive of you. So I shall use both.” But here’s the crazy part… she had literally whittled the bark off the top six inches of each stick to reveal a perfectly smooth, white handle that gave it both functionality and a fine aesthetic. Clearly, she was aiming to protect the delicate hand of her mistress. It was her choice to leave the business-end of each stick covered in bark. That’s because in her mind, she is not worthy of something fine and clean.  Yep, she took the task seriously and wanted to please me. 

I took the sticks from her hand and set them on the piano. Then I held her close and kissed her softly on her lips and neck. She purred in delight at being able to connect with me in a loving manner. 

Embracing her with one hand, I caressed her hair and ear with my other hand. She relished it in the way that felt like when an opera singer delivers a show-stopper of a song and has to stand there soaking up an interruption of two standing ovations before returning to the performance. There is nothing to do but bask in the warmth when someone is adoring you. 

And to clinch the feeling, I couldn’t help myself from whispering in her ear, “Regina, I’m in love with you.”  But she heard it in the context of the game, not real life, because she quietly responded, “I’m in love with you too, Mistress.”

Acting as a responsible Mistress, I needed to know how painful these switches would be against the flesh. It wouldn’t be cool to start blasting Regina with multiple blows without knowing what harm could be done and the severity of the blow each switch would yield.

I gave her a rather unconventional order. I reached in my purse and pulled out some handcuffs, which I held up for her. “You need to handcuff me to the piano leg so that I’m bent over, then pull up my skirt and give me three solid blows with each stick on opposite cheeks. I need to gauge the severity of the blows each stick delivers, do you understand?” “Yes, Mistress,” she quickly answered, “May I have the freedom to warm you up a bit once you are handcuffed so that you will be in the right frame of mind for the test?”

Thinking about it, this seems pretty important because the pain threshold in a sexually-charged scene is much higher than in a cold real-world situation. So I let her know, “Yes. You may prepare me as you wish, but for no more than 15 minutes; you are not permitted to touch my pussy.” “Yes, Mistress,” she replied sincerely.

She took the handcuffs and locked my wrists around the bottom of the piano leg, causing my ass to be high. Then she quietly disappeared. It felt strange to be alone and in a submissive position. I felt vulnerable because I was the one who was supposed to be in charge. I never gave her permission to leave me alone and restrained.  What was she up to? How dare she leave me.

Just as I was thinking about how insubordinate she was, she reappeared wearing her leather opera gloves that go all the way to her shoulders. “Sorry, for leaving you, dear Mistress. I thought you would enjoy being caressed by the leather of my gloves.

In fact, she was right. I got a great glimpse of her loveliness in the gloves, which had the immediate effect of getting my juices flowing. She looked super sexy!

She raised my skirt over my back and slid my panties off. Using two fingers, she delicately traced circular patterns all over my butt, letting her hands glide over every contour of my behind with a touch so light that her leather-clad fingers felt dandelion fuzz.

She removed her thick collar and strapped it very firmly around my neck. I felt owned and objectified. She disappeared once more and, about thirty seconds later, returned with a roll of duct tape. Knowing that she only had me for 15 minutes, she quickly tied my ankles together very tightly over the boots with the tape.  She ripped off another length and put it over my mouth.  This slave had some balls to be so aggressive with me, pushing her luck for when the tables would be turned again.

With her left hand, she began fondling my breasts, which were hanging straight down as a result of my bent over position. With her right hand, she grabbed the heavy stick that was an inch in diameter. BLAM!  She hit me really fucking hard. It produced a deep ache that felt like a punch from a fist. BLAM! I screamed against the duct tape. BLAM! Another one. This stick was really painful. But I was encouraged to know that I had just one more blow to go. I think it hurts less when a finite number of blows are expected. Real torture would be to not to know how long one would have to endure such punishment. BLAM! Ouch!!! Damn that is hard!

She continued rubbing my breasts for a bit, using her other hand to rub out the pain from my left cheek.

All of the sudden, her gloved hand stopped the gentle caress of my breasts and turned to a more violent and sudden action of pinching my nose closed so that I couldn’t breathe. The duct tape on my mouth was very secure and there was no air at all!  It had the effect of immediately heightening the stakes, both sexually and adrenaline-wise.

She took the longer switch and tickled my butt by running it gently along my right cheek. The anticipation was palpable as I was waiting for gentle strokes to turn violent. I was getting near the end of my oxygen and I desperately needed to breathe! Then, in a split second, my ass was on fire! She whipped me 3 times very hard in the course of about a second. When the whipping stopped, my ass burned in a way that felt naughty and sexy. She released my nose and I struggled to catch my breath.  Sensing that I was not getting enough air, she yanked off the duct tape from my mouth, “Ouch!”

Both sticks had their appeal, but the stinging one was more to my personal taste. The aching one seemed dangerous and dark. There’s a place for that too.

As she was soothing my ass with the soft caress of her gloved fingers, I started to softly cry, which wasn’t in character for me and I don’t know what was going on.  It felt like “happy tears” but it was mixed up with lots of different feelings of pain, inadequacy, and longing for cuddling. But honestly, I think the source was pain.

Regina put her cheek next to mine to comfort me. “You’re ok, Mistress. You can be yourself in front of me,” she reassured me.  Then she uncuffed my wrists and pulled the tape from my ankles. She gently lifted me up to a standing position… where we fell into loving hug and a spell of soft kisses.  When she sensed I was coming around, she knelt at my feet to resume her regular submissive role. I stroked her hair for a bit, her eyes gazing downward as a sign of acquiescence to my dominance.

I handcuffed her hands behind her back as she knelt there. Then I removed the collar from myself and strapped it briskly back on her Audrey Hepburn neck.

Without a word, I led her to the bedroom and had her lie on the bed, her hands still locked behind in the gloves. I cuddled in close to her and stroked her head for a bit with the intention of taking a nap together.  As her head was resting on my chest, she seemed to be as full of bliss and content as humanly possible. I was too.  It was hard to imagine a better feeling. Everything seemed heavenly, from the light on her skin to the peaceful room with no sound or music. There was no feeling of the outside world, no worries or concerns. The energy was beautiful! We dozed off and slept for a good hour like that.

Upon waking, we were still in touch with that warm and heavenly vibration. We kissed a couple times. But as I looked into her eyes, something started charging in me. It was my id waking up to seeing a beautiful woman in long, black gloves… handcuffed. She was mine, my object.

“Stand up!” I snapped at her. Eager to please, she stood immediately. I grabbed her nipples with each hand and scolded, “How dare you disobey me!”

She looked completely confused and nervous to have disappointed me. “What did I do, Mistress? I never meant to disobey you,” she sheepishly responded. I reminded her of how I had asked for her to cut a single switch from the ash tree, but she took two!  I expressed that it was very greedy of her and that she must face harsh punishment. In fact, she showed immediate remorse and seemed truly ashamed to have disobeyed me.

I kissed her softly, hugging her around her handcuffed arms. Of course, she purred under my affection. Something whisked me out of the game for a second and brought me into reality to say, “Regina Baker, I love you so much!” Regina, sensing that we had momentarily exited the game without the usual code, spoke as herself overflowing with commitment, “Oh, my God. I love you too.”

It was a mini moment of delight, a brief intermission that popped out organically. Somehow, we both felt the boundaries of the game still solidly intact.  It was like a commercial break in an HBO movie. You knew that the movie was going to resume again.  But for that brief period, it was delightful. We rubbed noses and cheeks and stared into each other’s eyes so closely that our eyelashes were whisking together.

It was time to get back to the movie. The game switched back on in a flash. “Don’t ever disobey me again!” I threatened. Her eyes jolted sharply back into the game. I dragged her over to the wall, turning her to face it.  On a side chair table, I noticed the Bettie Page postcard I had sent her. I grabbed it and placed the card between the wall and her nose, with her nose making contact with Bettie’s stiff pointy bra. “Hold this postcard to the wall with your nose until I comeback,” I demanded. “Yes, Mistress,” she complied solemnly. I continued, “I’m going out for a bit. Don’t drop that postcard or you are dead. Capiche?” “Yes, dear Mistress,” she responded.

That “Dear Mistress” response inflamed me; it bordered on patronizing. I pounced on the long wispy branch she had cut and started whipping her ass as she stood with her nose holding the postcard.  Between hits, I forcefully spoke through my gritted teeth, “Don’t you dare try to soften me by referring to me as  ‘Dear’ mistress. It’s only
Yes
, Mistress or
No
Mistress. Are we clear!”

Her pelvis squirmed left and right to avoid the pain of the whipping... but her nose stayed glued to Bettie as she uttered under misery, “Yes, Mistress.”

I whipped 10 more times for good measure, leaving her ass a fiery red. “Don’t fucking move!” She was stoically trying to hold back tears while doing her very best to keep the postcard pushed against the wall.

On the way out the front door, I grabbed her keys out of her purse and pulled the door locked behind me.

Outside, I saw that the entire street parking was taken and I didn’t want to lose my spot. I opted to get a Lyft ride. Lyft is a peer-to-peer taxi service that I depend on in the city for quick trips. It’s cheap and has ultra-fast pickups, all done through my smartphone.  I got picked up by a handsome Latino Coast Guardsman and told him to take me to my office. (He said he drives for Lyft to augment his low salary with the Coast Guard).