The Reawakening of an Aging Dom - Chapter 3

The Reawakening of an Aging Dom - Chapter 3

The Reawakening of an Aging Dom

by kc Rollins

It is ten o’clock in the morning. The sun is warm today and it shines brightly, quickly burning the morning dew. Suzie is hiding some place. She is playing my game, but I shan’t play along. When she arrives I look at my watch. She appears hurried and short-winded.

“I’m so sorry I’m late, but...”

 “No need for apologies or excuses, pet,” I interrupt.  “I know exactly what you were doing. You needn’t lie on top of it. Sit.”

 Her face reddens, confirming my assumption is correct. “Will we have another bad day today, pet?”

She casts her eyes down like a child who has been caught with their hand in the cookie jar and shakes her head.

“Women don’t play games, Suzie girl, children do. And when children are naughty they should be spanked, don’t you think?”

 Her face burns at my suggestion.

“Suzie?” Without raising her head, she looks up at me with watery eyes. “Suzie? I’m speaking to you and I expect a response,” I say, firmly. “Tell me now, truthfully. Weren’t you being a bad girl and seeking revenge for my tardiness yesterday?” She closes her eyes in shame, bites her bottom lip, and nods.

“Isn’t seeking revenge a sign of immaturity; the actions of a child?” Again she nods. “What do you think should be done with spoiled, willful girls, pet; girls who have behaved poorly?”

She folds her arms over her chest in a protective move and remains reticent.

“Suzie, I can leave if you wish,” I say, knowing full well she is looking forward to our shopping spree. “Shall we postpone this day until you’re more compliant?”

She shakes her head, as her face grows even redder.

 “What do we do with bad girls, Suzie?”

When she mumbles, I raise my voice and admonish her to sit up straight, look me in the eyes and speak audibly and clearly. If she obeys, and I think she might, it will be a step forward. I hold my breath and wait for her to mull over my orders. After giving her more time than I normally would allow, I begin to rise and she immediately, readjusts herself. 

“Well, Suzie?”

“I forgot the question.”

 “Are we being coy, pet? Are we going to continue to play games? I ask, suppressing a smile. “One more time. If you refuse to respond immediately and coherently, I’ll leave, without as much as a good-bye.”

She does not wait for me to repeat myself. “They should be spanked, Sir,” she says quickly, as if to not swallow the words.

 “Who should be spanked, Suzie?”

 She gulps and there is a tremor in her voice when she speaks. “Children - willful, spoiled girls that have behaved badly, Sir. They should be spanked.” Her lip quivers and the redness in her face grows deeper. Her discomfort excites me. Embarrassed, she looks away from me. 

“I wonder, Suzie, how does that appeal to you; the thought of being spanked?”  I ask my voice low and just above a whisper. “Having your bottom bare and over my knee?”

“I won’t do that again. I promise,” she sputters.

“That’s not an answer to my question,” I tell her, obsessed with knowing if it in some way arouses her. “Will you answer my question?” It is almost possible to see her heart pounding in her chest. “Suzie?” 

 Although reluctant, she nods slightly and her humiliation runs so hot, I can feel the burn. My heart, too, races, thumping loudly in my ears.

“There’s nothing to be ashamed of, Suzie,” I say, gently stroking her cheek. “You might think badly of me, but to me the thought is very attractive.” Before she has a chance to digest what I have just said, I say, “Daylight is burning, little one, and I suggest we grab a taxi and go to Colette’s for your day in the candy shop.” I reach for her hand and she submits. 

 When we arrive at Colette’s, a department store I chose not only for its variety, but also because it is named after the French writer, I tell her, “I picked this shop especially for you, my dear future author.” Her smile tells me that my efforts are well received.

 The citadel buzzes with the excitement of sophisticated shoppers. Suzie’s eyes are wild with enthusiasm. “This is just like Bloomingdale’s,” she squeals.

 Quickly, she flees from my side and I think I should have put a leash and collar on her. I shake the image I have just created in my mind, as I speed to keep up with her. She acts like a little girl in a candy shop, excitedly racing from one display to another and I enjoy watching her.

 We enter a department of her choice and I watch as she picks out dresses she thinks will meet with my approval. She holds them up one after another. If I shake my head, they are quickly returned to the rack. Finally, she chooses the perfect dress. She places the hanger around her neck, and I chuckle, then point to the dressing room. She quickly disappears and when she returns my heart skips a beat. Liz.

 “Do you like it, Suzie?” I ask, hoping beyond hope she does. She, of course wants to know if I like it. When I insist it is her decision she looks ambivalent as she twirls in the three-way mirror.

 “It’s not the sorta thing I usually wear.”

“Sort of.” I shake my head and tell her to enunciate. “Now kindly answer the question, precious.”

Her decision is irritatingly long in coming and I have no idea why. It is a pretty peach-colored gingham and fits her perfectly. She looks from the mirror to me for a reaction and when she does not get one she looks back to the mirror.

 “It’s comfortable. It’s cool,” she says, looking again at me. “Yes. I think this is the dress.”

 Elated with her choice, I suggest we purchase the appropriate lingerie to accompany her new dress. As we stroll toward the department, she abruptly comes to a halt.

 “Will you be embarrassed?”

 My brow furrows questioningly.

  “To browse women’s under things. You know.”

 “No. I think not,” I assure her, chuckling. “I like pretty things.”

 “That’s weird. I mean most men...

 “Most men?” I interrupt. “And just how many men have you known my woman of the world?”

She snickers. “I mean from what I’ve read, of course.”

I prod her forward with a gentle nudge in the small of the back. “Suzie, girl, it shan’t bother me in the least.”

 She is charming as she picks up different brassieres and holds them to her breasts, tilting her head first one way and then the other. She smiles teasingly and sports a sexy look.

 “I think this would be great under that dress,” she says, holding one that would lift her breasts exquisitely. “It would make it would do the dress justice, I think.”

“Your what, Suzie?” I ask, with a raised eyebrow.

 “You know.” She giggles and blushes with her response.

 I lean down to whisper in her ear. “Your tits?”  When she nods, I can feel the heat of her embarrassment.  “Say it, pet. Use the word.”

 She looks up at me and then quickly casts her eyes down.


 She beckons me to lower my head and when I do she moves her lips to my ear. “My...tits,” she whispers.

 “Very good, Suzie,” I say, enjoying her uneasiness. “Now use the word in a sentence.”

Her face flames as she looks at me through pleading eyes. I am, of course, relentless — this she has already learned. She looks around to see if there are others within hearing range. Satisfied that no one is near, she says quietly, “I think this brassiere would...”

 “Why don’t you hold it up to yourself when you say the words, Suzie,” I suggest.  “That way I can get a better picture.”

The look that washes over her face tells me she is not feeling so playful anymore. Hesitantly, she moves the bra up to her breasts.

 “Do you think this brassiere will compliment my...tits?” she says, softly.

 Her desire to please me is exhilarating. “Yes, Suzie, I think it will look very flattering under the dress,” I smile. “And now, let’s check out the garters.”

 “Garters!?” she exclaims. “Do women still wear those things?”

 “I suppose they do, Suzie, or they wouldn’t be on display,” I say pointing to the counter.

  “Then I’d have to wear nylons.” She crinkles her nose and adds, “I never wear nylons.”

 “But you’ve never thought as a woman before, Suzie, a girl such as yourself, becoming a woman, now have you?”

 “I guess not,” she shrugs. “Would you like me to wear something like that?”

 “Yes. I...” 

 Suddenly, I am overcome with a haunting memory that causes me to become short. “Suzie, you have to make a decision; stop negotiating and renegotiating in your mind. Make a decision. Yes? No?” 

 She turns from me, mumbling.

 “If you have something to say, Suzie, girl, say it.”

 When she turns back toward me, there is sadness in her eyes.  “I said...I’d like to have one.”

That is not what she said, originally, I know, but I let her have her way, because maybe I do not want to know what she mumbled. She looks dejected now and it is not within me at this moment to lift her spirits, because I too feel suddenly low.

 There are no words between us, as we continue to search for the perfect under garments, and it is not until I pull my card to make the purchase that she breaks the silence. She tugs on my sleeve so that I bend down toward her and she whispers, “We forgot panties.”

Immediately, I am tickled by what she says and drawn from my cheerlessness. “I should imagine you without panties.” I say, loud enough for the clerk to hear.

 Suzie turns positively crimson, but I continue. “Imagine, pet, how it would feel on a hot day with a nice breeze swirling up between your thighs.”

 The clerk returns my card with a smile and I suggest to Suzie we look to accessorize. “Ladies always accessorize,” I tell her.

 The clerk nods in agreement and we leave the department sans panties, but with one red face.

 In the jewelry department she searches for just the right necklace. “So fine that you can barely see it,” I hear her tell the clerk, as I rummage through the vast collection of hair ornaments for the perfect barrette.

 “What about this one?” she asks me, lifting something for my approval.

 I shrug. “I can barely see it from here.”

She turns back to the clerk. “It’s perfect. We’ll take it,” I hear her say.

 “Will there be anything else?” asks the clerk.

 “Yes,” I say before Suzie can reply. “Come here, pet.”

 I hold a barrette to her hair and she protests, telling me that she never wears anything in her hair. When I sigh heavily, she quickly corrects herself. “It might be a nice change, though.”

 “And you’ll need a clasp for when you wear it up.”

“I don’t...I mean I’ve never worn it up before, but it would be nice on a hot summer’s day to have my hair off my neck, I suppose.”

After our final purchase, Suzie starts for the exit, but I quickly stop her. “No. There is the most sublime tea salon here. They serve delicious Quiché. Are you hungry?”

 Her eyebrows and the corners of her mouth rise simultaneously. She licks her lips and nods.

 In the café, she enjoys one bite after another, too busy to notice that my mind has again wandered. She speaks, but I hear no question marks. There is nothing that needs my reply. Good. Watching her eat, I see Liz and smile. What a voracious appetite that woman had. What pleasure I derived in feeding that hunger.


 I watched Liz from the corner of my eye, as she watched me slowly gather food to my fork. Her mouth opened sensually; her saliva accumulated with her palate’s longing.  Teasingly, I lifted the fork to her mouth and then quickly pulled it away. With an evil grin upon my lips, I held the fork close enough for her to smell the food. Then I moved the fork from side to side and she followed it like a trained puppy waiting for its treat. “Have you been a good girl today, Liz? “ She nodded vehemently. “And now you want your reward?”  I watched her head nod quicker still. Again, I moved the fork to her mouth and when she could almost taste the food, I swiftly shoved the food into my mouth. “Mmmm. So good,” I teased. 

Playfully, she slapped my arm and picked up her own fork. She fed herself, uncharacteristically, with avarice of someone who had gone days without food. “You are cruel,” she said with a mouthful. “Very cruel.” 


 The memory is so vivid in my mind that I laugh out loud.

 “What’s so funny?” Suzie asks. I hear the question mark, but not the question.


 “I asked what’s so funny?”

“Oh. Nothing...I...You just reminded me of something.”

 I take the fork from her hand and slice off a piece of her Quiché.   “Open, pet.” She leans toward me, eyes closed, mouth ready to accept the morsel. “Your eyes have to be open, Suzie,” I tell her, disappointed.

 When she opens her eyes, the moment is gone. After feeding her the fork-full, I return the fork to her. Strange, as playful as she is most times, she does not know how to play Liz’s game.

The day was full and tiring. Suzie yawns and I reciprocate.  In the taxi she lays her head softly on my shoulder and the sweet essence of her hair fills me again with thoughts of Liz. Shortly before our break-up she and I had our days in Paris. A nostalgic smile curves my lips as I reminisce.


The room was perfumed with her light and delicate aroma. She was still wet from her shower, when I grabbed the towel from her and twisted it around so it looked very much like a licorice stick. She turned quickly, facing the wall and shrieked when I snapped it upon her wet, bare bottom. She yelled “Stop!” and tried to protect herself, but she was helplessly cornered. I laughed at her predicament as she shouted “No. Please, no.” Again, I twisted the towel and snapped it sharply on her moist, naked flesh. It already left its mark on her sensitive, white buttocks. 

“Another?” I asked. “Did you say, another, please?”  She stood frozen for a moment, thinking, I am sure, what best to say to avoid another smack. “I’m sorry, but I didn’t hear you.” 

Obviously at my mercy, poor Liz humbly surrendered “Yes, Sir, another. Please.”

“I don’t believe you.” I said, doing my utmost to annoy her. “Is that really what you want?”

 Defeated she nodded. 

“Good,” I said, in a tone to cause her discomfort. “Get on your knees and beg.”

 She complied and grabbing my ankles, pleaded exquisitely for me to smack her again. “As many times as brings you pleasure, Sir. If you wish to snap the towel hard upon my naked ass do so until you’re satisfied.”

“Aaaah, but what makes you think I want to smack your bare butt?” I taunted.

She looked up questioningly, her eyes glistening in an anticipatory gaze. “Sir?”

“Stand up.”

I grabbed her meaty, hairy bush and squeezed hard. Forced to her toes, she whimpered and I said, “Maybe I want to strike you here.”

 “Whatever pleases, you, Sir.”  Her voice quivered as she spoke, yet I could feel wetness between her legs that had nothing to do with water. 

In an authoritative voice I told her to stand against the wall and face me. 

Once she positioned herself, I ordered her to clasp her hands behind her head. Although a bit hesitant, she obeyed. “Now, spread your legs and push your pelvis forward.”  The sun peeped through the tattered shade and her bush, colored with a tinge of auburn, glistened. I aimed the towel at her wet slit. “Ready?” 

She shook her head vigorously and as a protective measure, folded in her knees.

 “Hmmmm? What alternative, then?” I said, groping my chin. “Let me think? What can we do for fun instead?”

She stood still as I walked to the medicine cabinet and slid the door open. I felt deliriously wicked when I pulled out the razor and shaving cream. When I turned back to her, I held the objects up for her to see, but for a moment, I said nothing. While there was no reaction on her face, her body spoke volumes.

“A shave perhaps? “ I suggested, lifting an eyebrow.

“Sir, please, I...

“Yes or no?” I interrupted.

She replied with a firm “No” neither begging, nor pleading respectfully. And regardless of her humbled position she was adamant.

 “Hmmm? Interesting.” As I walked toward her, she shivered. “Are you cold, Liz?”

 She nodded and I handed her the shaving implements to hold while I removed her robe from its hook. “So, you don’t want to have that hairy bush shaved?” I asked, placing the robe loosely around her shoulders. “Why? I mean, if it would please me to see your cunt naked as a baby’s butt, why would you refuse?”

She cringed at the sound of the c-word, but I knew she would and that’s exactly why I used it. This time, however, she did not flash a look of disgust.

  “Sir,” she started slowly, her voice just above a whisper and her teeth clenched. “I have a gynecological exam the day after we return to the states.” 

I roared with laughter and her face reddened. I laughed so hard that I doubled over with an ache in my side. Tears welled in my eyes and the more she said, “Not funny” the harder I laughed. I am so consumed with laughter that when she moved from her position, I did not correct her. After she returned the razor and shaving cream to the cabinet, she stormed off to the bedroom yelling, “I hate you!” 

 I cannot move for fear I will pee myself. When the laughter somewhat subsided, I went to the bedroom. She was sittings in the club chair pouting and while I tried desperately to not laugh, the urge was uncontrollable. Eventually, she could no longer contain herself, either. At first a slight snicker escaped her lips. Then she chuckled. Finally, she too was laughing hard and uncontrollably. When she lashed out at me I ducked, just escaping her swing. She pounded her fists on my back and still we laughed.

 Then, abruptly, I turned and grabbed her wrists, holding them firmly as I pushed her down to the bed. She grunted when I landed hard on top of her. With one hand I held her tiny wrists together above her head and forced her hands to the iron headboard, where her cuffs awaited. Click. Click. 

I placed one knee between her legs, forcing them open and then readied myself.  Eagerly, her hips rose up to meet me. When I lowered myself to place my lips on hers, she moaned. Locked in a moment of passion, our bodies thrashed about with fervent desire. My hardness laid upon her as she swiveled her hips, begging me in breathless whimpers to satisfy her craving. And as much as I wanted to enter her, I could not. Tenderly, I kissed her neck and licked her chest with wet flicks of my tongue. My mouth moved to her breasts, where my teeth met an erect nipple with soft nibbles. 

“Mmm, mmm, oooh yes,” she gasped.

Her nipple grew harder and I took it firmly between my teeth and bit, causing her to yelp. Her back arched higher with every nibble, kiss and lick on her sumptuous breasts. She responded longingly as my tongue slithered down to her belly with kisses and nips. But more pleasure awaited her, this she knew. 

My mouth rested just above her hairline. For the moment, she was lost in a place where I had taken her and had not yet noticed that her pleasure had ceased. When she did, she became rigid and glared, wrenching her neck to see me.

“Sir?” she said, gritting her teeth.

I looked up at her, smiling, and simply shook my head slowly. “Tsk , tsk, tsk, what to do with all this hair. It’s really a conundrum, no?” 

When I rose from the bed and reached for her cuffed hands, she shot daggers from her eyes and growled, “Shave it, Sir.”

I distorted my mouth in an attempt to hide a smile that was about to form, but I am sure my eyes gave me away.

“What will you tell the gyny?” I asked, feigning concern.

“I’ll think of something, Sir.”

“Are you sure this is what you want?” I asked teasingly.

 She insisted, “Shave it.”

 What fun she was, I think, as I continued to torment her. “Shave what?”  I asked, wanting her to say the c-word, remembering how many times we argued over its use.

  I had always insisted it was just another word, and I had even gone so far as to print out its origin and tried to convince her that the word itself was a prevalent term prior to the 1800s. But she would have no part of it, because to her it was vulgar and distasteful. I would argue back, “Hell, ‘belly’ was made vulgar when the Puritans got hold of it.”

 Despite my arguments, the word did not sit well with her and it was hardly worth wasting our precious time together. But now, she had to say it for me in order to receive further pleasure. 

Her eyes closed with both frustration and humiliation. “Please, Sir, shave my... my... my cunt.” 

“Hmmm... Sounds to me like this is something you really want?”

Her words came quickly now, near demanding. “Sir, shave it.”

 “Well, if you’re absolutely sure this is what you want, I’ll certainly oblige you,” I lean down and kiss her forehead. “Mind you, though, this is your idea.”

With a wink and a smirk, I went to the bathroom for the equipment. When I returned, I stood over her, pulled up a tuft of hair and whacked it off, then placed it on the side table. She was dripping and I knew it was from the humiliation she experienced. What I didn't know was if her wetness came from what I was doing or the thought that she would have to expose her new nakedness to her doctor?

Her sweet sex was drenched as I spread the cream on it. “Now,” I said, holding the straight razor in my hand, “I want you to hold very still, because I wouldn’t want to nick this beautiful treasure.”

 Her eyes remained closed during the shave and she did not open them while I washed away the residue of cream. When I rubbed my whole hand on her new bareness, her hips rose. “Would you like to see it?” I asked.

 The blood rushed to her face. “No. No, Sir. That’s okay,” she stuttered.

Her tone spoke her frustration. Nevertheless, I disappeared into the bathroom and returned with a hand-held mirror, which I held so that she could see her naked crack.  “Look, isn’t it pretty?” I goaded.  “Look” I said, after kissing it and returning the mirror to a position that allowed her to see it clearly.

Her non-compliance forced me to become firm. “Be a good girl and look at your cunt. “ 

The blush in her face, when she viewed her nakedness, moved to her neck and shoulders.

 “Now, I think a thank you is in order, yes?” I told her, prolonging her discomfort. She turned from me, mumbling. “I‘m sorry, my dear, I didn’t hear you. Would you kindly repeat what you just said? This time so I won’t have to strain to hear.” 

She faced me and swallowing hard she said, “Thank  you, Sir.”

My cock grew stiff and throbbed as she squirmed with humiliation. “For what?” I tormented her as never before. Her reluctance to respond caused me to repeat myself harshly. “For what?” 

Her voice quaked when she spoke. “For shaving my ... for shaving my... my...cunt, Sir.”

“Wrong answer,” I snapped loudly, causing her to flinch. 

 “What do want me to say?” she cried.

“You should know, “I told her, grabbing her pussy and squeezing hard.

 "Sir, I’m sorry,” she squealed.  “Please, Sir. I don’t know. Pleeeeze.”

 Her body twisted and turned in an attempt to free herself from my grip. “Who owns this cunt now, Liz....Who?”

 “You do, Sir,” she wailed.

 Suddenly, I was aware of the painful expression planted on her face and I loosened my hold. 

Relieved, she sighed, “Thank you, Sir.”

 Never before had I been that rough with her and for moments afterwards we stared into each other’s eyes, saying nothing. Then I leaned down and planted a gentle kiss upon her mouth as I massaged the circulation back into her flesh. She purred when my finger moved to her moist clit and circled it softly.

 I stood eyeing my newly acquired property. Then, sat down and placed a gentle kiss on my sweet possession, as if branding it with my hot lips. My tongue slowly and tenderly moved down her mound with intermittent kisses and nips until I reached the little pearl, which had been waiting so long for solace.

  Like a crazed animal, I buried my face deep inside her abyss of pleasure and was greeted with a gratefulness that caused my balls to ache. She moved wildly, slamming her sex against me and I could hear in her groans that she was close to orgasm. But she would not cum without my permission, and knowing she allowed me this control over her, drove me to push her further. With one final kiss on her gem, I left her sex. 

“Nooooo. Oooh no. Please don’t stop.”  She pleaded, breathlessly, squeezing her legs together to feel her need. My balls were swollen with cum and it took all I had to control my craving. I leaned down and placed a peck on her stomach and one on each hard nipple. 

Suddenly, she was my whore, spewing out words from the gutter; she begged and pleaded for my cock as I undid the cuffs that restrained her. With a finger to my lips, I silenced her. “Shhhh.” I lifted her from the bed and ordered her to kneel before me. “My little slut wants to cum, yes?” I whispered. When she nodded, I grinned wickedly. My cock pulsated with want and the pain in my balls worsened. When she opened her mouth and licked her lips provocatively, a surge of yearning pricked every nerve in my body.

“Is this what you want?” I asked, holding my shaft close to her mouth.

 She nodded, reaching to wrap her lips around it.

 “No, no, no,” I teased, pulling away. “You don’t deserve it, now do you?”  Humiliation washed over her face as I continued to taunt her. “You know what?” I said, gently stroking my hardness. “I think you’re a naughty girl for using the c-word and bad girls don’t deserve their Master’s cock.”

I held my penis loosely, as I slowly began to work my shaft. When she hung her head, I admonished her to watch me. I rubbed my hand up and down my member, hoping that I would remain strong enough to continue to stand before her for more than a minute before cumming. At that moment I wished I had liked sports, or remembered a nursery rhyme. I started reciting multiplication tables in my mind.

One times one is times one is...shit. Two times two is...damn it! My knees weakened as the semen moved from my testicles through my cock. Its tip red with fiery blood, the volcano was about to erupt. “See, whore,” I panted heavily, my hand moving faster upon my manhood. “See what being a bad girl has caused you to lose?”

 She nodded, her eyes fixed on my cock. 

 “Look...look...look,” I said, the words growing louder as I gushed forth upon her face and tits, and cried out in a pitch that causes dogs to howl.

 My heart pounded and my knees shook, as I staggered to the bathroom. There, behind the closed door, I thanked her in a whisper she could not hear, for the ultimate gratification she had given me. “I love you Liz. I love you more than life itself.”

 After composing myself, I re-entered the bedroom. As I had yet to give her permission to move, she remained on her knees, wearing my cum. I stood behind her and slowly reached between her legs to touch her jewel.  She moved softly upon my finger as I teased her clit. “Be still,” I ordered. “No movement. No sound. Understand?”  She gestured her knowing.

As I circled her clit with my finger, I felt her body, tight and controlled with compliance. I grabbed her clit and pinched it between my thumb and index finger, pulling it out from her and she continued to remain still. Strong girl, this one.

 “I’m proud of you, Liz,” I said, rubbing my full hand on her wanton piece. “Do you need to cum?”

 She trembled with lust and begged me to allow her release. My finger stayed on her clit as my full hand rubbed her more vigorously. I told her she may cum if she could do so in total silence. Her body stiffened and she could barely speak, but she agreed to try.

 My left hand kneaded her shoulder as my right hand moved faster and harder fondling her clit to completion. Erect again with her determined obedience, I said, “You’ll cum only when I tell you; not a second before not a second after.”

She was already so close that her clit was hard with desire. Forcefully and swiftly my hand worked this prize, feeling her wetness amass until she heard my words. She was a strong woman, but how strong, I wondered?

 “Now, my sweet. Now,” I commanded.  

The hand on her shoulder detected the tension in her body and the one between her thighs grew wet with her warm juices that continued to stream forth. Her body displayed a controlled shudder and only a slight whimper escaped her lips.

“Good girl,” I complimented, moving her hair and planting a kiss on the nape of her neck.

“Are you through with me, Sir?” she asked weakly. “May I move?”

When I gave her permission, she fell to her stomach, limp and spent. There my beauty laid and I gazed upon the lovely body and face of the woman who belonged to me; her mouth, her ass, her newly shaved cunt—in the flesh.

 Exhausted, she fell asleep on the floor. I lifted her to the bed and then filled a vessel of sudsy warm water. As she slept I delicately washed every part of her body. How lucky am I, I thought, to have her in my life? After drying her, I lifted the cover over her and she cooed. 

The tuft of hair, that I had cut earlier, sat on the night stand. I went to the desk and found an envelope. On it I wrote the date and a title, “A souvenir. A symbol of submission.” I propped it up against the lamp next to the clock, where she would see it first thing upon awakening. With one final kiss, I curled up next to her and drew her into my arms.


The taxi pulls to the curb in front of a hotel, the address Suzie gave the driver. She stirs, as I nudge her tenderly and kiss her forehead. “We’re here, pet.” She blinks her eyes open.  When I see the hotel, I know she is transient and my heart sinks. Soon she will be gone and I will remain here alone and lonely as before we met.

We agree to meet tomorrow, a meeting of which we both look forward. She thanks me for everything and after she exits the taxi she peeps in through the window. “I’m so happy we met, Sir,” she says, before turning to leave.

“Listen, before you go...”

 She does an about- face and leans through the window again.

“Do you own a skirt or a dress?” She lifts the parcels. “No. That’s to be saved. You won’t wear that until I give you permission. Not before. Understand?” 

She pouts, but acknowledges affirmatively.

 “Skirt? Dress?” I repeat.

  “Yes. I have both...but rarely wear either. Why?”

 I lean in closer and speak softly. “I’d like you to wear one or the other tomorrow. For me. Will you do that?”

The corners of her mouth turn up. “Sure. No problem.”

“And...” I put my mouth to her ear. “No under garments.” 

She freezes, as I back off. 

“Is that possible? Will you honor me in such a way?”

 She hesitates, but finally murmurs softly, “I will honor you in such a way. Yes, Sir.”

“Off you go, then,” I tell her, a strange happiness playing within me.

 I watch as she skips delightfully to the door. The doorman opens the door and she turns to wave good-bye. I blow her a kiss and catching it, she places it next to her heart.

 Intellectually, I know she is a forbidden, but it’s something my groin refuses to accept.