The Diary Of A Submissive: A True Story (25 page)

I arrived at 7.30pm after a schlep through the rush-hour traffic, and any curiosity about how this would all start was ended rather abruptly. I followed him into his flat and bent down to pet the cats hello. As I stood up, I swapped my overnight bag to my other hand. As his eyes took it in, he moved towards me and plucked it from my grasp.

‘You won’t be needing that,’ he told me as he led me into the living room, chucking it on the floor. He plonked himself down on the sofa and I stood in front of him, feeling awkward, not entirely sure what to do as he was sprawled across it in a way that left no space for me. At least I was unsure until he spoke, and then it all made sense.

‘Strip for me. Now.’

I looked at him, relaxed and smiling like someone in a sofa commercial, secure in the knowledge that I was going to do what he asked. As ever, the beginning of the scene remained the most difficult part for me and the picture of arrogance he made lying there, waiting for me to move, knowing that I would, made me grit my teeth as I slipped out of my shoes and began undoing my shirt.

‘Hold on a second, stop.’

My hands stopped on my third button at his order.
I looked over at him, wishing he’d make up his mind – did he want me to undress or not?

‘Yes?’ My voice sounded a bit shrill to my own ears. I knew it was from embarrassment, but I worried that he might interpret it as attitude and so I lowered my tone. ‘Yes?’

His eyes sparkled as he spoke to me, inspiring a surge of affection even while it caused butterflies in the pit of my stomach. Those butterflies started going mad at what he said next.

‘For the next twenty-four hours you are mine. Mine only. Everything you do is for me. Your wishes, your needs, even your dignity, count for nothing. You will do everything I ask you to do, to the best of your ability, in the way that you know will bring me the most pleasure. Is that clear?’

I had to swallow hard before I could speak. The immediate ramifications of this had already started running through my mind, and a blush was beginning to stain my cheeks. ‘Yes.’

‘Well then, don’t you think you should slow down and take your clothes off in a way that you know will please me?’

I didn’t trust myself to speak, so nodded.

‘Good girl. Well then, strip for me. Not functionally, sensually. Show me your body. Show me my property.’

While intellectually I knew he was pushing me to see a reaction, it took a lot of effort not to push back, particularly at the idea of being his ‘property’. I knew that was effectively the deal we had done, and that – actually – there
was a great part of me keen to surrender to him in that way for a little while to see where he took us.

My teeth were gritted and my fingers clumsy as I began playing with my partially open top, flashing a glimpse of my bra as I ran my hands down my body, over my hips and skirt before I slowly began to undress once more.

The five minutes that followed felt like an eternity. If it wasn’t for the fact that I spent a great part of the time too embarrassed to look at James and instead staring over his shoulder, looking at the wall behind him which happened to have a clock on it, I’d have sworn it went on for nearer an hour.

I’m comfortable in my own skin, but I’m both aware my body is far from perfect and not the kind of person who likes being the centre of attention at the best of times. Being made to strip in that way made me feel ridiculous, embarrassed, objectified. Every instinct was telling me to get it over with quickly, even while I knew I had to take my time, tease and tantalize as well as I could.

By the time I was down to my knickers an embarrassed flush had bloomed across my chest as well as my face, and I was hiding behind my hair as much as possible. I don’t think I had ever felt as vulnerable and the feeling was prickly, unpleasant. My throat felt clogged and I was inexplicably close to tears.

I finally pulled down my knickers and stood in front of him, naked, physically and emotionally. After long seconds he moved towards me.

‘Your posture really is atrocious, you know.’

His face was unreadable as he leant around me, his
hands reaching around my back to push my shoulder blades, making my breasts stand out, the nipples rubbing against the rough wool of his jumper.

‘I know it’s because you feel embarrassed about the size of your breasts,’ – at that he ran a finger along the line of fire across my chest – ‘but there really is no excuse for it and hunching over doesn’t make them look smaller. You shouldn’t be hiding them anyway.’

I felt shy, which was ridiculous. ‘Sorry.’

He tutted, tweaking a nipple in rebuke.

‘I see we’re also going to have to work on ensuring you use the correct modes of address as well.’ What?

‘For the next twenty-four hours you’re going to address me as Sir.’ I looked askance at him. While calling him that wasn’t a hard limit, it was something we’d discussed previously and which I’d said I thought was ridiculous. His smile and twinkling eyes suggested he remembered the conversation well. ‘Just for the next twenty-four hours.’

I looked at him and could deny him nothing. ‘Fine.’

He tweaked my nipple again, harder.

‘Sorry. Fine. Sir.’

He smiled and the queasy feeling in my stomach disappeared, replaced with a pride that was as shocking as it was warming. Knowing I’d pleased him made the awkwardness seem somehow worthwhile, although the sooner he ended up naked too, the happier I knew I’d be.

He smoothed my hair away from my face as I stood still, waiting for what came next. But he kissed my shoulder and then moved behind me.

I could hear sounds of rummaging, a cupboard door opening, and then a jangling sound that made me want to turn around even though I knew I shouldn’t. I stood, shoulders back, waiting nervously for whatever was to happen next.

He was back in front of me, not carrying anything that would send me running for the hills. In fact, not carrying anything at all, so far as I could see.

‘Do you trust me?’

‘Yes.’ My answer was quick, firm and sure. I honestly did.

The last thing I saw was his smile as he pulled a blindfold he’d had scrunched in one of his hands over my eyes.

‘Good.’

I had never been blindfolded during sex before, or, come to think of it, for anything other than a few games of blind man’s buff at birthday parties as a child. I was surprised at how vulnerable I felt.

Despite having deliberately avoided his gaze during my strip tease just minutes earlier, being in a position where I couldn’t see anything at all didn’t make me feel less embarrassed or shy, it just made me feel more exposed. And, of course, it meant I had even less idea about what would happen next.

I waited.

The jangling was back and he was behind me, grabbing my wrists, cuffing them in something that felt cold and unyielding. Then my ankles were tied together with something tighter, something fabric, that gave me a tiny bit of shuffle room but not much else.

I felt him straighten up behind me. His voice whispering directly into my ear made me jump.

‘I think we’re going to work on your posture now, sweet. I know you feel embarrassed showing yourself to me, but right now that’s all I want from you. I’m going to get a glass of wine and sit down and just admire you for a little bit while I decide what I’m going to do to you next.’

His teeth nipped my ear and he chuckled as I shivered. ‘So many possibilities. So many ideas. I just don’t know where to start. Get down on your knees.’

Dropping to your knees when your ankles are tied together and your hands are behind you, making you more off balance, takes a little while and left me feeling rather ungainly.

I’d lost track of where he was in the room, couldn’t even be sure he hadn’t popped to the kitchen for his wine, and yet I still felt like his eyes were on me. Finally I got to my knees, pulled my shoulders back to push my breasts out, and sat and waited.

And waited.

Every movement and change of air in the room made me start. Was that him? Was that one of the cats? And if so, how the hell was I going to shoo them away?

Suddenly his hand was in my hair and his voice was back in my ear, making me jump.

‘Spread your legs for me. I want to see you.’

I shuffled on the carpet, opening my knees a little.

His tut – now in front of me – made me start, and I felt his foot push at my knee, making me spread myself wider in wanton fashion.

‘That’s better. I want to see how aroused treating you like this makes you, even in spite of yourself, even though I’ve not touched you yet. You’re flushed – but I’m not sure it’s embarrassment any more, although god knows it should be. Instead you’re turned on. Your nipples look like they’re aching for my touch, or my teeth. As for the rest of you, you’re glistening.’

Suddenly I was very glad for the blindfold as I knew, despite – or perhaps because of – my discomfort, he was right. I could feel the heavy wetness between my legs.

He pushed me yet wider with his foot and I wondered fleetingly why I didn’t feel the fury I would normally. The bonds, the blindfold, something had changed the dynamic and it felt unreal. Hyper-real. Something.

‘Your juice is on my shoe. Dirty girl. I should make you lick it off. If you make a mess you should clean it up. It’s only fair, right?’

OK, the fury was back. I didn’t argue, but my tone was more mutinous than I’d have liked as I replied. ‘Whatever you wish, sir.’

He laughed. ‘Good answer. And I do like the idea of your tongue on my shoes, licking off the evidence of your arousal. But right now I’m liking looking up between your legs best of all.’

Even behind the blindfold I closed my eyes. I heard him take a drink – of his wine, I assumed.

He told me how he’d been wondering what it would be like to push me. How all the messages back and forth, the relatively sedate dinner, the initial play date, had all been
leading to this. How I didn’t know what was going to hit me, had no idea what I’d let myself in for, that I was his now. And while I knew he was in the moment, and that I could trust him, fear cramped my stomach just a little. I couldn’t move, I couldn’t see. Suddenly I wished the blindfold was off, that I could look into his eyes for a moment and see the reassurance there. As it was, I felt myself get a little panicky and yet more aroused at the feeling of powerlessness.

I knelt in silence, my lips pressed together to stop them trembling, waiting to see what would happen next. I felt his eyes on me – I think – and every movement in the room made me shrink slightly, waiting for a touch, something.

I heard him take another drink and my throat felt suddenly dry. I swallowed.

‘Are you thirsty?’ he asked, from the direction of the sofa. ‘Would you like something to drink?’

I nodded and then thought better of it. ‘Yes, please.’ He didn’t respond, and after a few seconds I realized why. Damnit. ‘Sir.’

I felt him leaning towards me. ‘Good girl. I’m tempted to fill a bowl with some water and see if I can tempt you to drink from it like an animal.’ Suddenly I thought I could manage without a drink for now, and something in my demeanour must have betrayed how unhappy I was with this suggestion as he laughed at my reaction. ‘But I’ll be kind this time.’

He pushed a glass to my lips. I put my mouth round it tentatively, wondering suspiciously for a moment what it
was, before he tilted it and I had to swallow or have it pour down my front.

It was soda water with ice and some lemon, and it tasted amazing. As he tilted the glass further I had to drink faster to avoid wearing it. I felt a surge of anger at the fact he was demonstrating his power over me with even the simplest of things.

He moved back to the sofa, and I heard the crunch of him eating something. My position, the fact that I had become some kind of blind floorshow while he had a snack, made me furious. Thank goodness I had the blindfold on to hide it.

‘Are you all right there, sweet? Is there something you want to say?’

I wasn’t hiding it well then. I knew he was trying to get a rise out of me, and you’d think that knowing that would have made it easier to keep a feeling of Zen-like calm. It’s wasn’t.

‘No, thank you. I’m fine.’

He stroked my hair.

‘If you’re sure. I’d hate for you to feel you couldn’t speak freely.’

I knew that speaking freely would get me into lots of trouble so I shook my head and pressed my lips together to avoid the urge.

‘Are you hungry? Is that the problem? Would you like me to feed you?’

Mindful of his threat to have me drinking from a bowl, I had no intention of eating food in a similar way; that was definitely a debasement too far. I opened my mouth to say
no, and his fingers were at my lips, pushing something in. A cube of some kind of cheese. I chewed it slowly, enjoying it. As I swallowed, his fingers were back, this time with an olive. Oily, sweet. As I swallowed, his fingers were back at my mouth, empty this time. Without thinking I sucked them into my mouth and licked them clean. So much for not being demeaned or treated like some kind of animal. Suddenly I felt like one of his cats.

He pulled his fingers away and he was pushing at my mouth again, although this time it was his cock he was pressing to my lips. I opened my mouth to welcome him, eager, enjoying sucking him, until he grabbed me by the hair, holding me in place as he began fucking my mouth. I wriggled my arms for a second, the panic of beginning to feel choked making me forget that I couldn’t move my hands round to do anything. I was snuffling round him, desperately trying to breathe, twisting my head to try and pull back, just a little. I felt him thicken in my mouth at my struggles, making it worse, and I tried to signal somehow that this was too much, that he needed to give me a second. Except I couldn’t gesture, couldn’t speak, and while the blindfold was wet with my tears I wasn’t entirely sure he was aware of that. Or actually that he cared.

When he came in my mouth I swallowed him as well as I could, although as he pulled out I gasped to catch my breath and I felt something – either his spunk or my drool – dripping down my chin. Classy.

He tugged on my hair, and I half crawled, half shuffled across the floor as best I could in my bonds towards the sofa so he could stroke my hair as he sat down. I calmed a
little, my heartbeat slowing, although I still felt well and truly on the back foot.