(cont’d)
(Some of your amber beads, my dear submissive girl, may be a bit darker than others. This, were it ever to happen, would be one of those–though only slightly. There will be much darker ones.)
I reach across the table again and take your wrist in my hand and hold you, tightly. I lean toward you, looking into your eyes.
“I’ll tell you what will happen if you test me that way.
“And girl, I know why you’d have to test me. I understand: you have to know that you’re submitting to someone who really is stronger and more aggressive than you are, someone who not only can dominate you but who wants to dominate you. You can trust me, darling: you’ll never have any reason to doubt either my ability or my willingness, my desire, to dominate you. I think you’ll learn that soon enough. But, still, I understand that you might have to prove it to yourself. And I won’t let you down, girl: you’ll never have to be in charge. Not for a moment.”
I tighten my grip on your arm and pull you slightly toward me, so that you have to lean in a little and our faces are closer.
“Dear girl, the moment I believe that you’re defying me, that you’re being deliberately disobedient, I’ll take you in hand. I’ll throw you down on the bed–or the couch, or the table, or the floor if it comes to that. I’ll roll you on to your stomach, and I’ll pull your arms behind your back. I won’t be gentle about it; I won’t hurt you, but it won’t be comfortable. If you’re behaving badly, I won’t treat you gently. Not at all. I’ll pull your arms behind your back, and I’ll hold your wrists together in one hand. You know I can. You know how easy it is for me to overpower you–I’ve done it so many times. You do know that, don’t you?”
You nod, slowly, biting your lip, remembering the last time I restrained you, the strength of my hands and arms, how powerless you felt.
“I’ll hold you down, your arms behind your back. And I’ll bare your ass, dear girl–I’ll pull down your pants, if you’re still wearing them. I’ll yank down your panties. And then I’ll pause, so that you can remember what I’m telling you right now, and think about it. And if you are very submissive at that very moment, if you beg me very sweetly to do whatever it was that you refused to do, then maybe–maybe–you’ll spare yourself what follows.
“Or maybe not. I can’t have you doubting my authority over you. I can’t have you wondering, when you submit, if you’re making some terrible mistake, giving yourself to a half-hearted, indifferent, or weak-willed master. I want you always to have the comfort of knowing how dominated you really are. So begging, however sweetly, probably won’t help.
“And so I’ll spank you.”
I feel your arm tense just a little, as you recall the last time I spanked you. Though it left your bottom red and tender, it wasn’t serious: I was taking you from behind, my hand tight on the back of your neck as I pressed you down into the mattress, and I gave your ass a few sharp slaps. As you remember, your eyes get that dreamy, faraway look I like so much.
“And it’ll be a real spanking this time, girl. I’ll hold you down, your arms pinned behind you, and I’ll slap my palm against your bare ass. I’ll do it hard, and I’ll keep doing it until I make you cry. And then I’ll do it a little longer, until you beg me, through your tears, to let you do whatever it was you refused to do before.”
You look very serious now, almost alarmed. “Would you do that, really?” you ask.
“Oh, yes. Yes, I’d do that. And, my dear obedient little girl, I’d enjoy doing it. I’m hard, right now, thinking about doing it. The thought of overcoming your defiance, of making you cry as you surrender to me, that thought excites me very much. So much so that, after I finished spanking you but before you did whatever it was you’d refused to do, I’d make you suck my cock. I’d make you kneel in front of me and suck my cock until your tears stopped flowing, until you were calmed and ready to obey. And then everything would be okay again, you’d be my obedient, submissive girl again. And you’d have no doubt–no doubt at all–about who is in charge.”
Now you look relaxed, as if you were reassured by what you’ve heard.
“But you’re going to be a good girl tonight, aren’t you?” I let go of your wrist and rest my hand against your cheek, brushing the hair aside. You nod, and say “yes, sir.” And that feeling wells up in me again, that desire and need to have you–to have you right now, to have you completely. And you know it, can see it in me.
I throw a bill on the table and stand, and help you into your coat.
* * * * *
And now, my good little girl, today or tomorrow, send me your schedule. Where will you be, and when, on Monday and Tuesday? Because I wish to see you.