An adult stories – Switch, Ch. 02 by SimonO,SimonO Simon Says: Read Chapter One for the actual context here. Not a stand-alone piece. One more chapter after this. Happy reading.
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“Seats 3A and 12B.”
“Ok.”
Caroline handed me my ticket to board the aircraft.
As the project had drawn to a near close, the client had been very insistent that the project leadership — ie, Caroline and me – travel to Chicago to meet with them. Caroline had sent me a simple email the previous Friday to be ready to go for four days to Chicago, leaving on Tuesday morning. We were supposed to be in Chicago in their offices by 10 am.
We met at the airport very early, with Caroline showing up with one minute to spare before the flight boarded, and so we boarded together. But somehow she had managed to have our seats reserved so we would not be sitting together. This amused me to no end and gave me such a jolt of pleasure. This meant without a doubt that she had been and still was uncomfortable and that she did not want to discuss anything.
It had been weeks since I saw her at the meeting, and each day it got more interesting to me as she appeared increasingly more uncomfortable at each encounter. She had not been able to shake the experience either. Of course, I could have just confronted her in the office, but that would have invited passers-by to hear about another side of not only her but also myself. This trip was actually what I needed.
This made the chase a bit more exciting.
“Which one do you want?” I was walking behind her with my overnight carry-on.
“I got 12B.”
I shrugged. “3A it is. See you in Chicago, Caroline.”
“Yea.” She quickly scooted back the remaining rows to her seat. I managed to see that not only did I not have a seatmate, but she didn’t either.
I smiled at her as I sat down. She quickly averted her eyes. Yep, the chase was getting exciting.
The flight proved uneventful. She barely acknowledged me as we went through the airport in Chicago. I decided to let things simmer so I didn’t mention anything in our little moments where it was just the two of us. Not enough time to really delve into it anyway, and I wanted to make sure when it was discussed it was not interrupted.
She seemed more tightly wound than usual. She of course had been in the office, but it felt like she was concerned that with so much time together she was in danger of having to finally face it. While she tried desperately to avoid me at the office, she couldn’t do it here. She finally had to face how she felt about the world I spent my time in. This just fed me.
We met with the client all day, meeting after meeting with various project stakeholders. Several more final working meeting days would follow with us traveling home on Friday afternoon, as the client anticipated a late Friday wrap-up. The final day, Friday, we were to meet with their project staff separately and their CIO for bigger picture discussions and next phases of the project, which always made my bosses happy to get a view of future work, which of course meant more money.
As I acted as the technical lead, clients often discussed these things pretty openly with me as they knew I wasn’t trying to sell them anything. In fact, the CIO likely wanted to get a “free” hour of technical advising and brainstorming. Frankly, I lived for that kind of stuff so I was looking forward to it. Chances were, Caroline was going to sit in and take notes, which of course the longer the list the happier our sales execs were going to be. They weren’t invited to Chicago for these client meetings so they really couldn’t work their voodoo. It all depended on Caroline and me.
She managed to arrange a one-on-one with her counterpart at the client for lunch, so we went our separate ways on the first day. I usually liked to work during lunch so that was fine.
As the last meeting of the day came to a close, I had thought about things with Caroline all day, and so had built up a little excitement over how I could handle things with her. Tonight. It was going to be tonight. Let’s see how she reacts.
We arrived at the hotel. It was pretty nice, all on the client’s dime. Before Caroline could do it, I grabbed her bag. She gave me a brief dark look but then just followed me in.
We checked in and headed up to the fourth floor where both of our rooms were.
“Let’s grab dinner, Caroline.” She was at her door and I was at mine, three down from hers.
“I think I am going to just . . .”
“You need to eat, Caroline. Plus the client is paying for it, so let’s meet downstairs in thirty minutes and grab food at the hotel bar. I checked it out and they have decent food there. And we can discuss today and what will happen tomorrow.”
She got ready to open her mouth again, so I just interrupted.
“Great. See you in a bit.” And with that I opened my door and headed in.
I headed down twenty minutes later. I was setting the pace so I wanted to get there ahead of her.
I had ordered a bottle of wine, light and fruity. The table had been set, as it were.
She walked in about ten minutes late. She looked around with a little uncertainty and then eventually met my stare. The déjà vu was not lost on me, and maybe not lost on her either. I smiled. She eventually began walking towards me.
She had not changed out of her dark gray heather sheath dress. Her sandy blond-ish brown-ish hair had been tied into a ponytail.
I stood up and pulled out her chair. “Glad you didn’t bolt back out the door.”
She actually blushed and averted her eyes. She apparently had been thinking the same thing.
She opened her mouth to speak but I continued, “I took the liberty of ordering wine for us.”
She nodded as I poured.
I had discovered over time that I loved taking control in situations like this. It was a bit of a game to me. And she was acting as I thought she would: she was NOT in control, she was in my hands, and so I was running things. And if my guess was correct she may be secretly deep down loving it. Maybe.
Tomorrow, she would be running the meetings and such so the dynamic would shift again. But what excited me was the thought that even though she would be “managing ” things, secretly she would be remembering moments like this. Moments where she relished in giving up control to a person who knew exactly what he wanted.
And at that moment I certainly knew exactly what I wanted.
“What are you hungry for?” I casually pushed the menu across the table to her.
Apparently she welcomed that escape from having to deal with me. I sat and watched her look at the menu. She put it down and just stared at me.
“Well? What are you going to have?”
It looked like she really struggled as to whether she wanted to give me this information. I knew what was going on in her mind. The little internal battle sometimes proved the most satisfying initially, and most impactful in the long run.
I continued to stare, waiting. She sighed and gave in.
“A half turkey club sandwich and whatever the soup of the day is.”
I nodded.
The waitress came over at that point and smiled at Caroline. “Hi. Welcome to the Tavern. I am Tami.” She then turned back to me. “Ready for some food?”
“Yes, what is your soup of the day?”
“It’s a creamy carrot soup, sir.” I glanced at her, “would that be ok?” She stared at me. She was thrown off-kilter again. And then seemingly not sure how to handle it, she nodded.
“Yes, she would be fine with that. Also she would like a glass of water and a half turkey club sandwich.” Before the waitress could respond, I added, “and I will take a Reuben.”
“Very good sir.” And with that the waitress left.
“So how did you think today went?” I casually took a sip of wine, silently enjoying her trying to process what was happening.
“Oh. . . yeah . . . I think the groups were happy with everything, especially the operations side. The customer care department seemed to have some longer term goals. Robert will be happy because it will likely lead to more work. Happy customer and all that.” She paused, slightly awkwardly, “you?”
“Sure. The people on the ground loved everything. IT is having a heyday. Their lives just got a lot easier, that’s for sure. The punch list of changes is small. We can have that done before we even leave Chicago on Friday afternoon. I sent John the list before we left the client’s this afternoon and he apparently already started working on it immediately. He seemed confident it would be addressed quickly.”
I shrugged, “so one day down and everyone is happy. Just need to survive three more. But honestly, Caroline, I have a very good feeling about this project and this client.”
She nodded in agreement and sipped her wine. We sat quietly for about a minute or two. Her eyes seemed to avoid meeting mine. I found myself relishing in the amusement of it all.
“So, let’s talk about the club meeting, shall we?” I threw it out, mostly to see how she would react. I had hoped it would make her a little more uncomfortable, not because I enjoyed seeing her suffer but really because her being uncomfortable about it confirms what I had been assuming about her interest in such things.
And she didn’t disappoint. Again. She froze, looking like she was trying to figure out how to get out of talking about it.
I didn’t wait. She was answering my questions just fine by squirming.
“Have you actually ever been in a Dominant and submissive relationship before? Or were you just curious that night?”
Deer in headlights. I waited.
“I . . . ” She started. Maybe she was hoping I would jump in and save her, but I didn’t. I wanted to hear the answer, waiting for what felt like five full minutes of silence.
I think the fact that she needed to answer finally dawned on her and she sighed.
She then just mumbled, “curious.”
“So you never have tried anything like that before?”
She shook her head. Her eyes kept moving down, averting her gaze.
At some point I anticipated that she might be more comfortable with this. It just wasn’t yet.
“Look at me Caroline.” Her eyes came straight up, almost automatically. “Good.” She continued to look at me, but even the word ‘good’ spoken seemed to almost make her wince. Internal battles.
I paused for just a moment, “but you are curious. The thought entices you, yes?”
She hesitated for a bit again, likely battling this one internally too. She nodded again.
I sipped my wine.
“Why?”
She looked at me with a confused expression.
“Why does that entice you? What draws you to the idea?”
Again a brief pause followed by a hesitant answer. “I like . . . um . . . I like the idea of . . . ” she looked down again as she spoke, seemingly lost in thought.
The way she spoke in these last few minutes was nearly 100% opposite of how she handled herself earlier that day — such confidence and a serious controlled tone had been completely replaced by this innocent-sounding and vulnerable woman, unsure of how to proceed, in a completely unfamiliar and uncomfortable context.
“Eyes on me, please, Caroline.”
She nodded again, her expression both irritated and confused. “I don’t know, Brent, ok?” She even sounded more irritated. No surprise I suppose.
I raised my eyebrow in amusement. “Really? I am quite certain you do know.”
She squirmed some more. She seemed to be having a difficult time with this different dynamic. It felt like a heart versus mind moment for her, maybe.
“I like . . . not being in . . . control . . . I guess.” She finally answered with her eyes looking anywhere but at my face. “I am in control a lot for the job, so . . . ”
I nodded again.
“Makes sense. I can see that. And you excel at controlling things at work, I think.” I sipped my wine. “What were you hoping to find that night?”
She exhaled and then took another sip of wine. Her response came quicker this time. Maybe she finally welcomed the opportunity to process this with someone.
“I . . .” The waitress came at that moment, unloaded the food from her tray, asked if we needed anything else, and upon getting her answer she left.
Caroline immediately dove into eating her soup.
I took a bite of my sandwich. “So you were saying.”
She looked up at me, and then adopted this look of defeat.
“To try it. I guess.”
“So you wanted to find someone who could show you what it was like?”
She paused for just a moment, maintained eye contact and then quietly said, “yes. That is correct.”
I nodded, “I completely understand. And that is a very sensible first step, Caroline.” She nodded a little, maybe appreciatively, maybe just out of habit.
I then turned the conversation away from that topic. The seed had been planted, which of course made me happy.
As we continued eating, I held out my hand patiently, “Caroline, hand me your phone please.” She stared at it for a few moments, then looked at my eyes, maybe searching for why.
“I am going to add my number to it. And I will forward a few things for you to look at. Only things I think would help you in your curiosities, I promise.”
She nodded and slid it across the table. Interesting that she didn’t actually put it in my hand. Little moments of rebellion.
I took it, added my number, then sent myself a text from her phone and handed it back.
She uneasily took it, nodded, and we continued our meal.
I had accomplished what I wanted to do at the dinner, so I let her eat in relative silence, only interrupting her thoughts occasionally with non-threatening casual mundane banter.
We said goodnight in the hallway in front of her room. I returned to my room, answered some emails, prepared a few things for the morning activities, and then retrieved my phone.
I composed my first text to Caroline:
“Evening Caroline. Thanks for a productive day and a pleasant dinner. I am going to forward three things to you: a video where a submissive discusses her experiences in the D/s world, a webpage that discusses the dos and don’ts of Dominance and submission and what is healthy, and an erotic story of a Dom and a sub.”
I then forwarded all three to her.
“Read and watch what you like, but I find these to be good ways to be exposed to this world initially. Feel free to send texts or we can discuss in downtime in the next few days. Good night, Caroline. Rest well.”
I then sent a quick text to Steph to let her know I was thinking about her. And honestly, I was. Steph seemed to pop into my mind at different times throughout any given day, with little pattern as to why.
It wasn’t just the guilt, it was just, well, just because.
We had spoken a few times since me telling her about why I pounced on her the night of the club meeting. We weren’t exactly back to what we were yet, but very close. She had lots of questions about Caroline, and I was all too happy to be transparent with her.
But even so, there still felt to be a little inkling of an unresolved issue there. And I didn’t know what to do.
And with the text sent, I set the phone down and went to bed.
The next day, Caroline avoided talking about the more controversial subject, instead focusing only on work. Safer. But her tone had changed a little — cautious, but with the need to discuss something. Maybe I was just reading into it too much.
At dinner, in the same restaurant, I ordered for her again, she accepted it with a little less silent drama, and we casually talked about the day.
After we covered what went well that day, which honestly was just about everything, I decided to finally head into the topic I was most curious about, “so did you check out any of the resources I sent you?” We were nearly done, so I wanted to get this in before time was up.
She paused, not necessarily anxiously but almost as if she expected the question, and then nodded. “Yes, I did.”
“Any thoughts?”
She paused again. She seemed to need time to reveal things. I was pretty patient so that was completely fine.
“The video was pretty helpful, although I don’t think I can completely identify with her.” I nodded. Caroline being a management type would be a little unique compared to other women in the lifestyle, many of whom were submissive in many, or even potentially all aspects of their lives.
“The webpage was very good, but I think it left me with more questions than answers.”
She stopped for a moment. “And the erotic story was . . . good . . . but again, I did not fully identify with the character. She was younger, not the same kind of work, that sort of thing.” She looked at my eyes, “but it was still helpful.”
Having given her answers, she nodded seriously, “so thank you for sending those.”
“My pleasure.” I smiled at her, paid the check and escorted her to the elevator.
———
We stepped off the elevator and stopped in front of her door.
“Caroline, show me your watch.” She looked at me questioningly but then pulled up the sleeve of her dress and held it in front of me, responding a bit more quickly to my requests. I checked what time it showed at that moment.
“At 8:45, come to my room if you want to know more about the lifestyle. You said you have questions beyond what was sent. I can maybe answer those for you.” She stared at me with the dumbfounded look again. “Caroline, this is up to you. I am not into forcing anything, but if you want to know more, then I offer myself for that. But understand that we play by my rules.”
I paused to look at her seriously then I continued, “We will discuss some general things when you come in, answer questions you might have, things like that, but after that it is about my direction. The offer remains available for you until exactly 9 pm. After that, it is no more. Your choice.”
I raised my eyebrows at her and she hesitantly nodded.
Satisfied, I turned and headed to my door, leaving the hallway.
I could see the shadows of her feet beneath the door long before she finally knocked, one minute before nine.
I opened the door to find her looking a bit panicky, having not changed at all.
I motioned for her to come in, she walked past me quickly and stopped in the center of the room, looking extremely awkward. Her hands literally shook a little at her sides.
I walked towards the chair and sat down, motioning to the bed, “take a seat please.” She sat demurely on the edge of the bed, crossing her admittedly pretty legs, likely thankful for something less awkward, but she still looked very unsure of things.
“So, initially, I was thinking I could answer the questions you have accumulated. Do you have some that maybe you brought with you to the meeting that night? Or that have shown up since reading up last night?”
She nodded her head, the deer-in-the-headlights look never leaving her.
“Um, I guess . . . like how it works . . . I guess. Mostly what I know about this stuff is from movies and well porn. Likely neither of those are accurate.” She averted her eyes at the porn research admission.
She then continued. “The dos and don’ts page was generally useful, but I want to know what it might actually look like, instead of more of a list. Maybe a big picture introduction or something.” Admittedly this uncomfortable and uncertain version of Caroline was pretty hot. The dichotomy of in-control her and out-of-control her felt pretty intoxicating to me.
“Ok. I can do that. Maybe a general overview to start, that can maybe fill in the blanks?” I looked at her questioningly. She nodded so I leaned back in my chair.
“First, many wrongly think that a Dominant/ submissive relationship is all about the control being completely in the hands of the Dominant, or that it is about whatever wish, good or bad, pops into his or her head. This is simply not true. Really the initial power within the relationship ultimately begins with the submissive. Once he or she grants dominance over herself or himself to a Dominant, then the Dominant can proceed. Simply stated, you are in charge of the overall submission. Make sense?”
She nodded, her face showing no emotion yet. She just seemed generally curious.
“Next, a good Dominant cares about what is good for the submissive. It’s a relationship, not transactional.”
“Like the story you sent,” she offered. “The guy had become as attached to her as she was to him.” I nodded.
“Correct. It’s not about a Dominant getting random pleasurable experiences from random people. A good Dominant seeks to feed into his or her submissive, to help him or her be a better person, and really seeks to know what is best for him or her. If you end up potentially in a relationship with a guy who fashions himself to be a Dominant but merely wants to tie you up and fuck you, then that is not what this is about.”
I saw her blush a little. I continued.
“In many ways, it is a daily choice, sometimes minute-by-minute, to continue on with the chosen roles. There is a difference between being a Dominant and being a douche.”
I paused again to check her expression. She seemed to be intent on absorbing it. She came out of her listening trance, slightly nodded at me that she understood, and continued to wait. I was feeling like a college lecturer on the subject. But then would a college lecturer say this?
“So while I could demand that you strip naked and bend over to be fucked, and you may actually want to comply, it is not based on a relationship that is truly D/s. It is a fantasy. And that may be what you and the other person want, and that is fine, but that isn’t what we are talking about here. Not without a relationship underneath it all.”
I could see the blush get to a deeper color.
“This is a lifestyle, usually. It means little choices of submission are as important as the big ones. For some it is a night to spice up a relationship — tying hands to a bedpost, blindfolding with a tie, maybe losing a bet and having to serve the lover in a sexy outfit. And those things are ok, but they alone do not really touch on the actual D/s dynamic, one where the submissive is choosing based on trust to put himself or herself completely in the hands of another person.”
I paused. “It moves from a sexy erotic fantasy to a moment of intoxication and a state of bliss.”
Her eyes stayed locked on me. She didn’t respond. Maybe she was shocked. Maybe she was digesting it all. I wasn’t sure.
“So the question is, what do you want? Do you want to experience the real full submission? Or do you want to pretend to submit for a sexy erotic encounter? A night of roleplay? Do you want to find a man or woman to completely give control to or just a night of being tied up and blindfolded? Either answer is ok. It’s just important to know the difference.”
I let her sit silently and think. I stood up while she worked through that, pulled a bottle of white out of the fridge that I had been saving, poured two glasses and handed her one before returning to my seat.
As I sipped the wine, I heard her quietly speak, “I don’t just want a fantasy.”
Her eyes were actually not on me. Shame maybe? Admitting this deep dark desire?
I nodded as I put the glass down.
“Ok. Do you have a boyfriend? Girlfriend? A romantic partner of some sort?”
She ignored the girlfriend part. “I am somewhat dating a guy, but we aren’t to the point of being an exclusive thing. He is, well I am just having . . . being intimate with him.” She smiled for a moment, “you could call him my submissive.”
I raised my eyebrows. She actually had just loosened up briefly. Maybe it was the fact that she admitting what she wanted had put her in the same ballpark with me. A small connection.
She almost giggled at my expression. “Oh I don’t mean that really, I just mean that he seems to prefer me being in charge of things. He is kinda a beta male, I guess. It’s not serious nor will it ever be.”
“Does he know that?”
“Um, I am not sure, honestly. I was seriously looking for nothing more than sex, and he is hot, so we ended up in bed. But we don’t have much going on outside of the bedroom, so I have written it off as potentially anything more than a diversion.”
“So you enjoy being in charge in the bedroom?”
She paused for awhile, seemingly honestly reflecting. I took another sip.
“No, I mean the sex was good, but the fact that I was in charge really made it less fun. Like I had to take charge to keep things moving, but I really wanted him to do it. I wanted to feel his, well, his strength. Desire. Urgency. Something. But I wasn’t. Does that make sense?”
I nodded.
“To be honest, Brent, I think that realization is what got me looking up local BDSM stuff, and how I found myself at that club meeting. I wanted to find someone that was not the guy I was with. I had been at that party for a total of ten minutes when I saw you. And ran away like a complete idiot.”
She paused. “Are you in a relationship now? Was that blonde at the party your girlfriend?”
I smiled at her. “No. Well, she is really my best friend. We dated at one point.”
“Is she into the whole BDSM thing too?”
“Very much so.”
“She was so gorgeous. If you two are not together, then why was she on your arm? Surely some other guy would love to have her as like his, like, you know . . . ” Amusingly she could not use the words completely yet.
“Well Steph and I go to those events together. We have a complicated relationship, but above all she is my best friend.”
She nodded listening.
I continued. “She hasn’t found anyone she respects and cares about enough to submit to.”
“Except you.”
I laughed. “Yes, but only a bit. She has not found a long term Dom yet. Which is a good lesson for you. She is picky.”
“Maybe I should be talking to her instead of you.” She smiled. I liked seeing her smile.
“Probably would not be a bad idea, honestly.”
“No. She is way too beautiful and I doubt she could relate to me. Or I cannot relate to her, more like it. Like that video girl you sent.”
“Yes, she is beautiful. But you do realize you are very pretty, right?””
She blushed a little again, “thanks for the kind words, but we know that you don’t really think that.”
“Obviously we do not know that. I don’t say things to just say things, Caroline. I thought you would know that by now?” I responded a little sternly.
She sat silently, a little stunned, but then nodded her head. “Then thank you, Brent, for the compliment.”
“So, what kind of relationship are you really seeking, Caroline?”
She looked at me, a little confused. “I am sorry. I don’t know what you mean?”
“Well . . . ” I shifted back into lecture mode, “some want the full BDSM — bondage, masochism, with submission. This would probably result in pain and restrictions. Usually, the submissive would find pain comforting or pleasurable, as odd as that may sound.” She watched me as I explained, listening carefully. She even leaned forward a bit as I kept going.
“Others like to be humiliated, one piece under the masochism category really. Put on display for others. Public humiliation — nudity or bondage in front of others.” Her eyes widened a bit as I ticked off the menu items.
“Others like to just give up control and submit to someone else’s will, like the story I sent. It may involve being tied up at times or blindfolded, or it may involve being punished, like spanked lightly, but not for inflicting serious pain, and it may also involve just the submissive being pushed into doing things he or she does not want to do.” She visibly nodded as she absorbed it all. Caroline was a very smart girl and her engaging temperament seemed to prove this.
“Some go further by enjoying being completely used as objects, or given sexually to other people by the Dom, graphically these persons can often be referred to as cumsluts. Then you also have a bit of roleplay, like Daddy Doms.”
She remained quiet as I paused, maybe hoping the lecture would continue. Finally, she cleared her throat.
“I don’t think pain and humiliation are my things. I am a little too old to have a Daddy . . . Dom?” She laughed as she air-quoted. “Although that might be one of those single nights of erotic roleplay.” She giggled to herself as if she shouldn’t even consider it, even if she likely was.
I just smiled and nodded, encouraging her to continue in her reflection.
“And being given to other people as a sex object is just gross and very much not appealing at all. I think I would rather feel more valued than that.” Her face revealed that she really did find it repulsive. Steph would be agreeing whole-heartedly with that. Everyone has their kinks, so for those that that is enjoyable, so be it. But it goes against how I approach D/s.
She paused thoughtfully. “I like giving up control. Well the idea of it.” Then she paused. “I think being punished can be . . . good. Just not welts and extreme bruises. Having boundaries and direction and some restriction might feel good? I don’t know. I really don’t know yet.”
She took a sip of wine. “What does Stephanie like?”
She seemed to be very focused on Steph. I really should have the two of them sit down some time.
“What you described, really. She loves giving up control.” I smiled for a moment, “she also likes to misbehave so that she gets disciplined a bit.” I saw her curious look, “nothing serious, just a little bit of boundary pushing and resetting.”
“And you?”
I smiled at her and tilted my head affirmatively.
“Hearing what you want, my advice remains the same. Be very picky. Use that dos and don’ts list as a filter.” She nodded seriously.
We sat for a moment, sipping wine. She seemed deep in thought.
I really did need to introduce her to Steph. Steph had taken new submissives under her wing before, as kind of a mentor/ mentee thing. She was sweet and patient and very intuitive.
“Ok Caroline. So, do you want to take a small step forward on this? Experience a little in a non-threatening and reasonably harmless way?”
She paused again, her eyes going wide in shock. “You mean now?”
I nodded as I remained in my seat.
“How, um, how far would this go?”
“Part of this is to give up control, Caroline, so I am not going to tell you.” She looked a little panicky again.
“You need to experience the unknown by trusting me. Feel what it is like to hand over the keys to someone else, as it were.” I leaned forward, “I promise you that I will not hurt you and likely will not push you too far outside of what you would normally be comfortable doing. Just a bit maybe, if necessary.” I smiled at her.
“It is just for this next little while you’d be giving up control.” She nodded as she listened. “We do not have a close relationship and for you to really give up control would require more than a brief conversation, but I have your best interests at heart here and please know that you can leave whenever you like. No safe word is required at all.”
“Safe word?”
“Well, if this was of the bondage variety, uttering an agreed upon safe word is used to let the Dominant know that the submissive wants to be let out of the situation. Nothing even remotely like that will be happening. This is just to give you context, a feeling of generally what it is like.”
She hesitated, seemingly working through it all. Giving up control can be an unbelievably scary but also an exciting thing. She had been given some assurances — an escape route, my promise to not do anything damaging or harmful. She also knew me a little bit. “Ok. Um then yes. I do.”
“Ok, good. First thing, when addressing me, use ‘sir’ in your responses.”
I watched her facial expressions. She revealed little to me, but then nodded her head, maybe even expecting it. Afterall, any display of this lifestyle in movies often depicted submissives using respectful addresses. ‘Master’ was a bit much for this toe-dipping-in-the-water evening.
“Now, please stand up for me.”
She nodded. I raised my eyebrows. “Yes . . . sir,” she added.
“Good girl.” She reacted slightly to my use of the phrase, one that definitely placed me above her.
I stood and moved over to sit on the edge of the bed. “To start, you may kneel down here in front of me.”
“What?”
I smiled at her and pointed down to the floor in front of me. “Are you choosing to give me control, Caroline?”
She looked conflicted. She actually started clenching her fists as her body went rigid. She nodded and knelt down, followed quietly by a “yes sir.”
I looked at her for a moment, reached out with the palm of my hand and held her cheek, “thank you.”
She seemed to blush a bit, even as she remained rigid at my feet.
I leaned forward, bringing my face closer to hers as I kept her cheek in the palm of my hands. “Now, if we had a bit more of a committed Dominant and submissive relationship, I would normally have you wear a lot less clothing. I find women’s bodies to be especially lovely and enjoy seeing them as much as possible. And since I find you to be attractive, I think I would enjoy seeing that.” I paused, watching her expression, the blush spreading across her face, maybe even in pleasure more than a bit of humiliation at the thought. “But tonight? Likely a bit too far.”
I leaned back.
“Would you like to know what other things I would normally have you do?”
She nodded her head silently.
“Would you, Caroline?”
“Yes sir. I would.” She said quietly.
“Well, in addition to being naked, you would serve me in whatever it is that I needed, massage me, sexually please me, but also in attending to my non-erotic needs as well. You would look for ways to make me happy. Much of your time would be devoted to my needs, anticipating them and responding to them. Your beautiful body on display, because it would make me happy.”
Her mouth actually hung open just a little bit. I knew by making her kneel, I had made her tap her toe on the other side of the threshold. And with me listing things I would have done, she more likely would be internalizing this. At least I had hoped.
I was not trying to manipulate her. For me, I was feeling out her emotions with her. If she was truly interested in this, I wanted to see how a strong usually in-control woman would react. And watching her face work through my list just made me hornier, honestly.
I continued.
“And subsequently, I would be focused on your needs. I would know what is good for you, so I would push you in the right direction. Your nudity would not be only for me, but also for your own acceptance of how beautiful you are. And even further, you would not be hiding anything from me — emotionally, physically. You would eat well and drink well, for me and for you.”
She remained silent at my feet, the blush never leaving her face, but her eyes only half focused on my face as she digested my words.
“Schedules, required dress, or undress as it were, meal planning, all of these are to free you up to be happy and enjoy the other things. My need to control. Yours to be controlled. It’s a yin and a yang. Understand?”
She nods
“Good. Now, we need to work out your punishment.”
“My punishment?” My statement brought her out of her contemplative state, her voice rising a little at her question.
“You were ten minutes late to dinner last night. I would prefer to not be kept waiting.” I paused for a moment, “and it should be ‘my punishment, sir’, right?”
“Sorry, sir.” She looked like she wanted to say something else but was suppressing it.
“Good girl. I am thinking a spanking would work, likely five slaps would help you remember.”
“You want to spank me?” To her credit, she remained on the floor.
“Do I want to? Yes, I most certainly do. But this actually has a bit more to do with you than me. You wanted to give up control. Me spanking you for not doing what you should have done, and you accepting it because you have handed control to me. This is what this is about.”
I watched her face for a moment, “Something tells me you want to be spanked. The problem is, it feels wrong. You feel like as an empowered woman you should not accept this. But then that is just what you have been led to believe — growing up, hearing others. That is misplaced pride dictating the rules for you. What is it that YOU want, Caroline? Do you want to be corrected? Do you want to be cared for? Cherished? Desired? What choice will you make, Caroline?”
She looked so conflicted kneeling on the floor in front of me, her eyes staring at nothing as she searched her feelings.
I didn’t know which way she would go. It might prove to be one of those defining moments for her. The step across the threshold, as it were, instead of merely tapping with her toe, then running away.
She slowly stood and faced me. She then moved towards me and silently climbed across my lap.
She couldn’t see my smile. Of course this brought me pleasure, but there was something wonderful about seeing a person come into their own.
“Five. Count out loud each one, please.”
“Yes . . . sir.”
Her sheath dress hugged her backside nicely. I had noticed her slender form before, so it was nice to see it now.
“Note, I would normally pull your skirt up, and maybe even your panties down, but tonight, we will forgo that.”
And with that, I carefully placed the palm of my hand on the left cheek of her bottom. I gently rubbed, lightly, then raised my hand and slapped. She made a noise and quietly said, “one.”
I did not spank hard by any stretch. I wasn’t into pain, or humiliation, even if both of those played a small role here. This really was about submission to redirection. It was more emotionally impactful than anything physical.
I slapped a second time. “Two,” she quietly said.
I massaged lightly again, and then slapped. “Three.”
Another. “Four.”
And finally, one more longer massage followed by a final slap. “Five.”
She did not immediately get up but continued to lay across me. I took the implied invitation to massage her bottom.
Finally, she slowly rose from my lap, and then interestingly moved in front of me to return to a kneeling position.
I leaned forward, bringing my face closer to hers again. The expression on her face looked thoughtful. She didn’t seem to be in pain, but rather a bit taken aback by what happened.
“Are you the type who processes things out loud with others or by yourself?”
She regarded me for a moment, then seemed to settle on an answer. “I think it depends on the situation.”
“And what does this situation require of you?”
“I think a mixture of the two.” I was starting to really appreciate her analytical mind. This had become fascinating to me.
I waited for her to continue, giving her some space to start when she felt ready.
“I . . . don’t know you that well . . . but . . . I felt very connected just now.” Her eyes moved down as she struggled to get it out.
I put my finger under her chin and raised it so that she was looking at me. “Eyes up here, Caroline. And you can say anything at this point.”
She nodded. “Yes sir.”
She continued, her eyes on mine. “I started off mad. Then, like, emotional. Then comfortable. Then mad that I felt comfortable. Then confused.” She smirked at me. “So now I am at confused.”
She sighed. “Part of me wants to run away. Another part wants this to never end.” She looked pleadingly at me, “is this at all normal?”
“Yes.” I nodded. “Conflicting emotions can be part of the start of it all. I am not into converting people to this lifestyle, but if someone genuinely feels drawn to it, then what you described feels about right.”
She nodded and continued to look at me.
“And how does your bottom feel?”
She smiled, “warm but not in real pain. Might be a little bruised tomorrow. Don’t know for sure. Will check it out a bit later.” She smiled shyly at me.
I nodded.
“Caroline, please note that tomorrow you are the boss at the client’s. This may be confusing, but I work for you.”
She smiled, “So you are choosing to submit to me?”
I laughed. “In a way, yes.”
Her smile faded, “I am not sure I like that. I think I would rather feel like you were still in charge.” She added quickly, “sir.”
We sat quietly for a moment — me on the edge of the bed and her kneeling on the floor in front of me. She seemed to be in a comfortable spot. Somewhat.
Then I had a thought.
“How many changes of clothing did you bring?”
Her brow furrowed in confusion, “sorry?” I raised my eyebrows. A quick small smile came to her lips, “sorry sir?”
“More specifically, counting the panties you are currently wearing, how many pairs of panties do you have with you?”
She stared for a moment. Then shrugged, likely deciding the information was not too damaging for her. “Yesterday’s, today’s, tomorrow’s, and Friday’s trip home, so four, sir.”
“Are you on your menstrual period right now? Or are you in danger of being on it before we head back home?”
She looked taken aback by the question, but then considering all else that had been discussed tonight, after three beats she shook her head, “no sir.”
“Good. Go to your room, retrieve your panties and come back here. I want all four, yes that includes the ones you wore yesterday.” I let it sink in for a moment, but then added, “you will get all four back when we land back in Springfield.”
She stood up quickly and left my room.
I wasn’t sure if she was going to go for this. She couldn’t see the why on this — was it sexual? Or humiliation? Or did I just have an odd fetish for women’s panties? Any of those things might cause her to outright reject it. But hopefully she had seen that I wasn’t in this for sexual dominance and fantasy fulfillment only.
Two minutes later, I heard a knock. I opened the door to find her blushing furiously. She walked in quickly, and to my great pleasure, returned to kneel on the floor in front of where I had been sitting.
I sat down, she reached up to my hand and placed four folded pairs of white panties in my hand.
“Good girl.” I muttered as I took them. “So tomorrow. When you are sitting in meetings, and you are wearing your skirt and nothing else underneath, and you have to shift in your chair, you will feel what I did there and what you surrendered to me. The warmth of what my palm has left on your cheek. The absence of a layer of clothing. You will be reminded of what happened here tonight. And what you chose to do.”
A small smile formed on her lips.
“When you look at me, I will know what you are thinking about, what you are feeling. It will be a bit of a secret between us. Would you like this reminder tomorrow?”
She nodded. “Yes sir. I really would.”
“Good.” I checked my watch. “It’s getting late Caroline. We need to be up and ready to go in eight hours so why don’t we pause this until tomorrow night? If you choose to continue, that is.”
She nodded again, seemingly in thought. After a time she then spoke up, “sir?”
“Hmm?”
She nervously looked at me. “Would you like to see what you did?”
I raised my eyebrows. It took me a moment to get what she was asking. “You mean my spanking?”
“Yes sir.” She quickly added, “I mean I know it is not as amazing as what Stephanie . . . ”
“Stop that, Caroline. You are lovely. No more comparing to Stephanie. If I didn’t find you attractive then I would not have pursued this.”
She looked down and nodded.
“Stand up please and turn around.”
She slowly got to her feet and turned with her back to me.
“I would like to see your beautiful bottom, Caroline. Raise your dress for me please.”
She mumbled something, her fingers finding the hem of her skirt. She lifted it in no hurry, slowly revealing her skin. I finally saw her cheeks come into view. I had only slapped her bottom five times total, a few times on each cheek. And it was through two layers of clothing. Even so, I could see the pinkness on each one.
There is something both cute and sexy about a woman’s ass that has been freshly spanked. Her cheeks were firm, her ass matched the slimness of the rest of her body, and I liked it.
I then realized I had likely been quiet too long. Her hands were shaking a little as she stood completely still.
I stood up and stepped close to her. I then reached out and ran my fingers along the skin of her reddened cheek. She reacted by jolting, but then seemingly accepted my touch.
“I love how it looks, Caroline. Apparently, I did well there. And your bottom is lovely.” I could feel the heat under my fingertips.
“You can pull your dress back down. For now.” She quickly did that but stayed in position.
I stepped close behind her. “And one more thing, Caroline.” She didn’t move.
“Do you find yourself aroused right now?”
She paused. I could not see her face. I then heard a softly whispered, “yes sir.”
“I am glad. But tonight, you are not to do anything to address that arousal. You will refrain from pleasuring yourself. Do you understand?”
She actually didn’t speak this time but nodded her head in the affirmative. I am sure things were racing for her so I did not push her.
“Good girl. And before you go to sleep tonight, I want you to text me and let me know that you have been good. All part of your choices, Caroline.”
She paused, then quietly asked, “will you be doing . . . anything tonight?”
I smiled to myself. “Yes Caroline, I most certainly will.”
She didn’t respond.
“Good night, Caroline.”
“Good night, sir.”
She didn’t look back and left the room.
I wasn’t lying to her. I was already hard. And with me holding back from immediately jumping into sexual situations with her, especially as I really wanted her to understand what it was all about, I only had one choice.
I dropped my pants and underwear immediately and “addressed my arousal.” It didn’t take but a few minutes of me stroking a very hard dick as I thought about Caroline across my lap, showing me her pink ass, or even saying yes sir to me. These sorts of outward expressions turned me on in spades.
Watching my hand grip my shaft as I slowly pumped it, well I imagined someone else’s hand there. Or her pussy. Sliding down. Giving herself to me. But honestly, the first time would likely have her bent over a desk as I was quite the fan. Images, anticipation and her all brought me to the edge.
I came into my hand, went to the sink and cleaned up.
I needed to get some sleep but I wanted to review the schedule and the punch list again and contact the office about tasks. I fired up my laptop and worked through some emails.
Twenty minutes later I received a text from Caroline that simply said, “I have been good sir.” I just responded with “good girl.”
I actually started to get hard again.
But then my mind shifted to Steph.
Steph.
I sent her a text — “Thinking about you. Hope you are ok.”
I heard a ding — “me2. :->”
Then another — “ru ‘coaching’ Elsa?”
“Elsa?”
“The IQ”
IQ I knew meant Ice Queen, which of course referred to Caroline. Not sure where Elsa came into all of that.
“Yeah, I gave her some links, and then we talked through it tonight, and did a little experiment.”
“K,” she wrote back.
A few moments later, “go ok?”
I wanted to be honest with her. Above else I cared very much about Steph. But I also didn’t want to hurt her, and Caroline seemed to be a bit of an issue for her.
“Well enough. She is just figuring things out.” I then added, “I think you two should meet. She is curious and you really could help her understand.”
Silence for a bit. Then just one word “sure.”
After some more silence I finally wrote, “heading to bed, Steph. Miss you.”
Quickly the response came, “me 2, B. Nite.”