The Object of His Affection - Parts 1-5


Prologue

James met Debbie shortly after his high school graduation. She was a few years younger than he and the sister of a high school acquaintance. Despite their age difference, they hit it off as friends.

After leaving business school to pursue a career in programming, James created a contact data base program that became quite popular across many industries. After licensing the program and making a substantial fortune he went into semi-retirement, working only when he so chose.

Debbie, once finished with high school, picked up a job as a sales person at a local appliance dealership: a job she held for several years. It was a good living, if not satisfying. Her co-workers were friendly, if not particularly interesting or intelligent and she had good benefits 

Over the ensuing years, they would share their lives with each other, occasionally going to lunch or dinner and confiding in each other.  Most often, they would spend long hours discussing their lives over the phone. 

To say it was an odd friendship would be to minimize the truth of the matter. James had come to love her in ways that can only be described as "big brother-like", while still harboring a deep physical and emotional attraction for her. In short, he wanted her in his bed more than he had any other woman.  Despite this he had kept her at arms length, respectful of their deep and profound bond of friendship.

Debbie saw James as a "girlfriend" with whom she could share her deepest, darkest desires and fears. She loved him very much and could not see herself living without him being there for her. And, much like he felt, she was also very attracted to him and wondered what it would be like to have him touch her in a less chaste manner.

Unbeknownst to James, besides harboring an abiding love for him, Debbie was quite fearful of him because of his knowledge of her true nature. The fact that he had spotted her submissive side, when no one else had, coupled with his knowledge of her extremely suggestible and active libido, was almost too frightening to bear.  Beyond all that, she was rather fearful of the many terrible things he had described doing to women during their long conversations. These factors, more than any other, were what had prevented them from ever coming together as a couple.




The Object of His Affection – Awakening 1

		

James entered his lonely domicile, dropping his keys on the coffee table and heading to the kitchen for a much needed beer. As he passed through his living room, the phone rang.  Picking up the phone, he checked the caller ID. It was Debbie. Immediately, he clicked the "ON" button to receive her call.

"Hey, babe, how's it going?"

"Not bad, you?" she said.

"Same old." 

The long breath on the other end told him that this would be a serious conversation. No doubt, it would be about her boyfriend, a man who he disliked, despite never meeting him. His past conversations with her had given light to the fact that her boyfriend was quite the unappealing sort.

"Uh oh, what did he do?" he asked in a flat tone.

"Damn it, he didn't do anything." she said. "It's what he wants to do."

He grinned. "Let me guess...he wants to tie you up, spank the hell out of you and fuck you up the ass, right?"

"Shut up." she told him. "But yeah, sort of..."

"I'm all ears,” he said, chuckling.

"Well," she began "Tony told me that he wants to tie me up. Actually, he did once. Anyhow, it was not big deal, he just used a scarf on my wrists to tie my hands over my head."

"Um, in bed, I am assuming?" he asked.

"Yeah...anyhow, I broke the scarf." she started.” Well, Tony wants to really tie me up. With ropes or chains or something."

James listened to her as she drew her next breath and stammer to say more, finally interjecting  "So, you're afraid of it but you want it at the same time?"

"Yes." she whispered.

James was sure of where the conversation was headed. She was waiting for him to say something but he wanted her to go forward on her own, enjoying her struggle.

"Well, what do you think?" she finally asked, frustration in her voice.

"Go for it." he said. "Let him tie you up."

She growled at him. "Fucker! You know it's not that easy for me."

"Okay, let me guess...you're afraid that if you are really tied up that you won't be able to stop him from doing things to you that you don't want to happen?

Debbie took a deep breath, affirming his question with a grunt.

"Well, Deb, the way it goes is like this..." he began. "If you let someone tie you up, you are letting them have control over you and your body. So, anything that you don't want no longer matters."

"That's what I was thinking." she said. "What if he does things that I don't want to do?"

He sighed. He had been down this road with her a hundred times, explaining the dynamics of a BDSM relationship.  She knew his thoughts on bondage and permissions given. Still, he felt compelled to go over them again.

"Debbie, if you let him tie you up, you are giving him license to do whatever he wishes,” he said. "It doesn’t matter what is said before hand...if you allow it you allow him anything."

They meandered off of the subject for a while, speaking of other factors in their lives. Eventually, it came back around to bondage and the possibilities that go with it.

"Deb...you're afraid he is going to fuck your ass. That's what this is about, isn't it?"

"Yes...I never let my ex-husband do it to me and I am not letting him do it," she said. "He has tried to cum on my face, too. That ain't ever gonna happen!"

"Then it's simple. Don't let him tie you up."

Again, the conversation slid into other areas. For a short time they discussed work and family and various things. Still, the conversation came back around to her predicament.

"Are you going to help me or what?" she shouted at him.

"With what?

"James, you're a fucker," she said, laughing. "You know I am going to let him tie me up. But, I don't want ropes. You told me before that it could be unsafe if the person tying you...if he doesn't know what he is doing."

"You need cuffs and a couple of chain dog leashes," he said. "That's all. You can get the leashes anywhere and go to a sex shop for the cuffs. Hell, you can use dog collars for the cuffs"

"I can't go there...to a sex shop. You know me! And what would someone think of me trying on collars in a pet store?" she was incredulous.

"I'll stop by tomorrow and bring you the cuffs. I have some leashes too," he told her. "Just remember what I told you. If you let anyone bind you...well, you are giving them permission to do whatever they want to do."

"Okay." she sighed.

A few minutes later they agreed that he would come by early Saturday and deliver his  “equipment. Then they said their goodbyes and hung up.

For the next several days Debbie thought she might call James and tell him not to bother. It was embarrassing. Besides, she was afraid of what her boyfriend might have planned if he did bind her. Eventually, she settled on James bringing by the equipment. She didn't have to use it if she didn't want to, after all.

She was sitting in her kitchen when the bell rang. Opening the door she greeted James with a slightly embarrassed smile. A moment later they were sitting across from each other in friendly conversation.

"Well, I guess you probably want to see what's in the bag, eh?" he mused.

Debbie blushed briefly, nodding in affirmation. "Let's go upstairs", she said. Grinning, James followed her to her bedroom, admiring the sway of her plump bottom through her tight blue jeans.

She took a seat on her unmade bed, asking his forgiveness for the unkempt room. Then, blushing, she asked what he had brought.

"This", he said, pulling an item from the bag, "is a leather collar. It fits around your neck. You will notice that it has several steel rings on it. Those are to allow for constructive binding." He handed her the collar and then continued.

"These are cuffs. You will notice that they are leather, too. Unlike the collar, there is only one ring on each. You won't need more", he said. "Here are four leashes, ten carabineers, a few leather straps with a quick connect fastener at either end and these are gags. This one is a ring gag and this one is a ball gag. Both are quite useful."

For several moments she sat quiet. Then, fingering the collar, she asked, "Should I try these on or...what should I do?"

James grinned, his thoughts leading to prurient images. "I can put them on if you like. Do you trust me?"

She blushed again. "Should I?"

"Well, I did tell you that if you allow yourself to be bound that you are giving the go-ahead to the other person." He was grinning quite widely, enjoying the discomfort radiating from her cheeks.

"Look...can I trust you or not?"

Again, he grinned. "You can trust me not to hurt you. I would never hurt you. The rest...well, I might not be able to stop myself once I have you helpless."

"Smart ass", she shot at him. "Just show me how they can or should be used."

Still grinning, he began fastening the collar around her neck, buckling it snuggly. Then he fastened the cuffs to her ankles and wrists.

"Alright, he is not experienced. You will need a safe word in case something hurts or he goes too far for you. Let's use ‘apple pie’ ", he told her. "Good for you?"

 "Yeah, apple pie," she said, burning with aroused embarrassment. 

He spun her to face away from him. "Okay, first thing is simple. Your hands can be bound behind your back, like so", he told her, snapping a carabineer between her wrists. "Can you get loose?"

Debbie struggled for a moment, trying to access the carabineer and then to pull her hands from the cuffs. "No, no I can't."

"Excellent. Now, from this position I can lay you on the bed and hog-tie you or I can pull your hands up your back, somewhat and, using this strap, bind your wrists to your collar."

Suddenly, he spun her back to face him. Surveying her he found that she was quite excited. Her cheeks were reddened and her nipples were quite hard, poking through her cotton t-shirt. 

Stepping forward, he reached behind the hair at the back of her head. Pulling her head back, he leaned in to her and listened to her breathing. It was heavy and a bit ragged. 

"Feels good, doesn't it?" he whispered.

She was shaking now, wishing he would take her and afraid that he might. 

"No. It's scary. I don't like it," she lied.

"Don't lie to me, Debbie", he told her. "It won't work with me. I know you, remember?" He released her suddenly, continuing with his lesson.

"The gags, I must say, are quite fun,” he stated. "This one is a ring gag. Open your mouth and I'll show you how it works."

"I don't know about this," was all she got out before he began pushing the ring into her mouth. In a matter of moments it was fastened securely, holding her mouth wide open.

"This gag, Deb, is so your mouth can be accessed at any time, whether you want it or not. I don't think your candy-assed boyfriend would use it properly, do you?" he whispered, a sinister lilt in his voice. "Now, turn around, facing the bed and get on your knees."

Obediently, she settled to her knees, crossed emotions and thoughts passing through her. Her nerves were close to her skin and she began to breathe in short quick breaths. What would she do, she wondered, if he did decide to take her? What could she do? 

The click of the carabineer between her ankles startled her. Looking slightly to her left she could see her image in the mirrored door of the closet. Her arms were bound mid-way up her back and her mouth gaped open, an available target for easy use. It felt sexy, frightening and humiliating all at once.
 
"Debbie", he said, sitting on the bed in front of her, "I know that you are excited right now. You like this feeling. You like everything about this. Most importantly, you are emotionally torn. Part of you wants me to take you while another part is fighting that want."

She shook her head "No".

"Deb, I am no fool" he started. "I have been through this before. I know how the body reacts. I've never lied to you and don't expect you to lie to me. Now, tell me the truth. Am I right in what I said?"

She bowed her head and then nodded "Yes".

"In that case, I will give you something easy." He was whispering now.” You can find out how it is to taste my control. It will not be much: a quick moment. Then I will leave. After that, it is up to you to make the next move. I will not call on you."

He stood, unzipping his pants and pulling his cock out. Debbie stared up at him, unable to decide what she should do. Then he cradled her head in his hand and pushed her to his cock.

Initially, he was quite gentle, sliding his hardening cock into her opened mouth in slow and easy strokes. Slowly, he built up to faster strokes, pushing his cock to the back of her throat. She gagged and tried to slow his pace to no avail. 

“I will do this my way or not at all, Deb,” he whispered. “Stop resisting. It’s futile.”

For many minutes he stroked his cock in her mouth, bobbing her head with the rhythm of his strokes. After becoming used to his process she found a sort of peace and, closing her eyes, she found a strange sort of peace.

His momentum increased with a sudden hiccup. Her eyes fluttered slightly, knowing he would climax soon. Abruptly, he pulled from her mouth and held her head back. 

"Sorry princess, you aren't getting that satisfaction today," he told her.

Her eyes were suddenly wide and she felt a strange sadness come over her. He was not going to cum in her mouth. "Why?" she wondered. "What have I done wrong?" It was as if he read her mind. For, just as quickly as her questions arose, he answered them.

"You get my cum when you come to me, not when I come to you. But, I am going to get the satisfaction I want."

A moment later, she was being lifted and placed in the middle of the bed on her back. Then, as she was contemplating what might happen next, he released the clasp on her jeans and pulled them down to her bound ankles. A quick jerk of her panties and he slid between her legs to lick at her wetness. 

Later, she would muse, it was the best worst experience she had ever felt. One moment his tongue was sliding inside her, wriggling about as if struggling for deeper entry. The next moment he withdrew from her to lick at her thighs, telling her how good she tasted. His hands, too, played a part in his scheme. Moments of soft caresses were followed by firm massaging inside and out, bring her near to orgasm only to leave her wanting. His teasing became torture and she feared he would never allow her satisfaction.  

Unable to take more, she began begging in garbled phrases, her gag preventing enunciation. Frustrated, she moaned, filling the room with her tortured cries. Then, just as she thought she might die, he allowed it. Moans turned to screams, her body thrashing as much as her bonds would allow. Finally, after several terrible orgasms, he allowed her peace and she sank into unconscious bliss.

It was several hours later when she awoke. She was lying in her bed, unfettered and alone. She called out for James, hoping he had not left, knowing he had. Finally, her calls unanswered, she wept. 


The Object of His Affection – Beginnings 2




James was sitting and reading a book when the phone rang. He was not surprised when he answered the phone to discover it was Debbie. 

Immediately after his initial “Hello”, she burst into a tirade of tears and anger, telling him how angry she was at what had occurred between them. Slowly then, after she had aired her grievances, it came out; She had ended her relationship with her dullard of a boyfriend. Thirty minutes after saying their goodbyes she turned up at his door. 

The discussion was long and tear filled. Finally, after agreeing to “try out a relationship”, they took to his bed where she curled up in his arms and drifted into the world of dreams.

They awoke to the dim light of early morning. Smiling, she slid upwards to kiss him. It was their first real kiss. They followed it with a passionate session of lovemaking.

Her past lovers had guided her with gentle motions and spoken requests. Always, she had been somewhat aggressive, returning her lovers requests and guidance with her own. It was not to be so with James, however.

At first, their kisses were soft and gentle, tinged with the passion of long lost lovers.  Quickly, the timbre of the evening changed and she felt herself pushed between his legs.

“Suck my cock, princess,” his gentle voice commanded.

His soft command thrilled her. Obediently, she unzipped his pants and pulled his cock from within. She looked up at him and smiled momentarily. Then, she opened her mouth to take his hardening member into her mouth.

While she sucked, bobbing her head on his cock, she began to wonder if he was, in fact, enjoying her actions. Many conversations were remembered during which he had commented on how few women can “suck a proper cock”. These remembrances determined her to prove her skills to him and she began sucking him as if she were pleasing herself.

James was impressed by her vigor, if not her skill. Too often she would pull back to swirl the tip of his cock with her tongue or wipe the saliva from his cock or her chin. Admittedly, she was far more skilled and enthusiastic than most in the art of fellatio. Training her, he thought would be most enjoyable.

Nearing climax, he pulled her from his cock and told her to lie on her back. A moment of jockeying found him straddling her face and demanding she suck him again. Obediently, she opened her mouth and sucked his dripping cock into her mouth, avoiding his intently glaring eyes as he began removing his shirt.

After many long minutes of avoiding his steady gaze, he pulled from her mouth. Then he slid down the length of her body and off of the bed.  

She realized, as he began pulling her jeans from her body, that he had already released their snaps and let down her zipper. 

"He's good", she thought, never having noticed until her jeans, and then her panties, were coming off. 

Her jeans removed, he grasped her ankles and flashed a frightening smile. With a suddenness that surprised her, he lifted her legs so that they were perpendicular to the bed. Then, on his knees, he began a slow march up the bed, pressing her legs towards and then against her torso, licking and kissing them as he progressed.

For the moment, Debbie was experiencing a sensuality she had never felt before. She had been fucked in this position before, but never had she been placed in this position so carefully or with such slow deliberation. Suddenly, she wished she were naked and bound, exactly as she was.

"Grab your legs and hold them steady,” he whispered. "I don't want you to move." Then he slipped off of her to stand at the foot of the bed. 

She watched him as he unsnapped his pants and began removing them, his cock hard and standing out from his body. Again, her thoughts drifted back to wishing she were bound in her current position, helpless and hopeless of escape.

Naked, he came around the bed to kneel and kiss her forehead. She shivered, strangely embarrassed that her shirt remained on while he was naked. 

"I should be naked, too", she whispered to no one.

"You will be", he told her, making her blush.

"Before we go further, there is something that must be done", he said, smiling. "I have preferences and kinks and various interests in things that you have described as perversions. You must indulge me in only one for now. But, you must promise to indulge me before I tell you what it is."

For a brief moment she was unsure, wondering if she should agree. Admittedly, she had always thrilled at his descriptions of how he treated the women he had taken to bed. More importantly, and despite his acknowledged and well-known sadistic side, she had never detected and cruelty in him. So, after swallowing the lump in her throat, she nodded her head, telling him she would do as he asked. 

"When I have finished speaking, I want you to get up and go to the bathroom", he began. "You are not to say a word. Then I want you to shower. Do not hurry; I want you to enjoy the sensual quality of it. When you come out of the shower, I expect there to be absolutely no hair below your neck. Your arms, legs...everything is to be devoid of hair. Now...go."

For a brief moment she pondered his request. She had never shaved her entire body. In fact, the hair on her body was so fine that she rarely shaved above her knees. Now he wanted her to shave her entire body. Finally, her moment of thought passed and she reasoned that she must obey as she had promised.

For long and long she stood under the shower, warm water coursing over her body. She was excited and frightened at what was to come and she suspected that he would not react well to a failure at executing his wish. So, after many minutes of contemplation, she began her task.

She shaved her armpits and legs first. Then, after a short moment of contemplation, she began lathering up her arms. It felt strange to her as the razor sheared away the fine hairs on her arm. Even stranger was the sensation of drawing the razor across her belly and then her chest and bottom.

Once she was sure no part of her body remained unshorn, she began to lather up the mound between her legs. This was substantially more difficult. Not only had she never shaved between her legs but also she was certain she would cut into her most delicate flesh.   

The first scrape of the razor gave her goose bumps. After a deep breath and a quick rinse of the razor she began again, wincing with each pass of the blade against her flesh. In seemingly no time she began working on the area that made her most nervous and, pressing down her excited flesh, she shaved the remaining hair from her mound. After several short and careful passes, she was, as he commanded, devoid of hair below her neck. She was also quite aroused and rather embarrassed.

Her work done, she gave a final rinsing, shut off the water and began drying herself. Then, stepping from the shower, she wrapped herself in her towel and exited the bathroom.

Her arrival into the bedroom was marked with a chiding remark and a command to return the towel to the bathroom.

“I want you naked”, he commanded.

For a moment she wavered, turning part way to her right and then left, blushing from head to toe. Then, after a quick cock of his head, she obeyed.

Once she returned to the room he informed her that she was to stand motionless and that he was going to examine her. 

"Anything you missed will be met with a spanking", he told her. "You will get five smacks on the ass for each area you missed." Then, he knelt in front of her, grasping her thighs and pressed his mouth between her legs. 

Suddenly, she was jelly legged and falling through the air. An instant later she was in his arms and being placed on the bed. Her head spun as he lifted her legs, his tongue trailing down her calves and thighs as he pushed them against her. 

"Hold them to you", he commanded, his head disappearing between her legs.

 It was barely a moment before she began her first orgasm of the day. Several orgasms and half an hour later, he finally lifted himself up and plunged into her. He was not gentle, as he had been before. Neither was he rough. Instead, he was steady and hard, pounding into her as if she were inanimate, holding her ankles in his firm grasp. Then, as quickly as he had plunged into her, he withdrew and slid up her body, grasping the top of her head by its hair. She watched as he grasped his hard cock and stroked, knowing his intentions. She was instantly horrified yet strangely anticipatory. He growled, jerking her head closer to his cock as he erupted, Heart beats later, she found her face covered and dripping with his hot and sticky discharge.

For a long moment afterwards, he did not move. She wanted to speak - to ask him if she could get up and wash the mess from her face. But she was afraid. This was his domain and she had entered it willingly, knowing him for who he was. 

"Open", he told her. His voice was deep and commanding.

Obediently, she opened her mouth to have him fill it with his cock. He held her to him for several minutes, his cock nearly to the back of her throat. 

A dollop of the sticky mass coating her skin flowed into the corner of her eye. She closed her eyes tightly, hoping for him to release his grip that she might clean the disgusting mess from her face. Fearful of disappointing him, she determined to hold a steady silence until she was certain he was through with her. 

Finally, he relaxed his grip on her hair and allowed her head to fall to the bed. He slipped from his position atop her body, allowing her to legs to fall into a less stressful position,and lay down beside her.  

"I know what you're thinking,” he began. "But that cum is my claim. It only comes off when I allow it. Understand?"

"Crap! You mean that you want me to wear your cum until you say I can wash it off?" she asked, incredulous.

"Exactly."

"But it's covering my eyes. I can't open my eyes without it getting in", she complained. "Can I at least get it out of my eyes?"

"No", was all he had to say.

Debbie thought long and hard. The urge to wipe her eyes was nearly unbearable and the revulsion she felt at being covered with his drying cum was equally unbearable. By the same token, she could not deny the odd excitement her situation brought to her. 

"Fine! I'll leave it!" she said, her tone conciliatory and irritated. 

Chuckling, he left the bed, urging she follow. Her complaints of blindness were met with more chuckles. 

"I guess I'll have to lead you, then", he told her, taking her by the hand to lead her downstairs.

After seating her in a chair at his table he inquired "Bacon and eggs good?" 

"It's better than cum in your face", she replied, wryly.

She sat with her eyes closed, uncomfortably trying to ignore the drying mess on her face as he prepared their food. Fortunately, by the time breakfast was ready for their consumption her facial covering was sufficiently dry enough for her to open her eyes again.

"You're a bastard, you know?" she said, biting into a piece of bacon.

"I know", he said, flashing a grin. "But, that's the sort of thing you can look forward to if you stay with me. Well, that and worse."

"I don't want to know. Not while I'm eating," she said. She pursed her lips and went on with her meal.

The rest of the day went pleasantly. They made love several more times, each time ending, much to her annoyance, with the same results as the first time. By the time he let her take a shower that night, her face had a thorough and unpleasant coating of dried semen.

As they lay in bed that night, after much prodding, she would begrudgingly admit that the degradation she suffered that day had aroused her. His suspicions confirmed, he began making plans for future humiliation of the girl beside him.



The Object of His Affection – Humiliation 3





During the next few months, caught in the early throes and excitement of a new relationship, things were relatively easy going. During this time he showed her the lighter sides of his sadomasochistic tastes, promising her it would not always be so easy. 

Many nights he would spend teaching her how to give better blowjobs. Other nights they would simply make love or fuck hard. It was also when she discovered the excitement and humiliation of having to receive permission before climaxing. 

Debbie, for the most part, enjoyed her new situation. She had always wished for more assertive boyfriends and had always wondered why men tended to be so sheepish in the bedroom. Upon voicing this query to James she received an answer that was honest, from his standpoint, and for which she could find little fault.  

"It's because of how men have been trained in this day and age. Men have been told that taking charge is bad and that women can do anything a man can, despite the obvious physical, emotional and psychological differences”, he told her.

It was a Friday, nearly six months into their relationship, when she inquired as to why he had not bound her. She had hoped, nearly every night, that he would tie her to the bed and take her. He explained that it was not the time. "Soon, you will begin to experience those "other things" you wish to experience."

That night, he asked if she wanted a new experience. Excited at the prospect, she nearly jumped when she told him she would. For the next few hours she waited, expectant and excited, for him to unveil his plans.

At nine O’clock that night, he told her to take a shower. "After you dry your hair, I want you to come downstairs. You are to be naked. Understand?" 

After an excited "Yes, Sir!" she bolted upstairs to complete her orders. Twenty minutes later she was downstairs and standing, naked, just as he commanded.

Seated on his soft leather couch, James commanded she stand in the middle of the room with her hands at her side and solidly against her thighs. 

"Now tell me, how many times have you masturbated since we have been together?" he asked.

"I haven't...I don't,” she stammered.

Rolling his eyes, he began again. "How many times?"

Blushing, she stammered, "A few times...I don't know how many times...a lot, I guess."  

"That ends now. From now on, you are never to masturbate or cum, ever again, without my permission. Understand?"

She blushed again, trying to hide her face under the cover of her long auburn hair. "Yes, Sir", she whispered.

"Good. Now, it's time for me to see how you masturbate" he told her. "Do you do it standing or sitting or laying down? How?"

"Oh my God. I can't...I...I don't want to do this", she said in a shaky voice.

"How? What position?" he demanded.

"Sitting. I sit on the couch or lay on my bed, she said, wishing she could crawl under a rock.  "My legs are usually spread and my legs are bent. My...my knees are usually up in the air."

James left the couch and sat in the easy chair across from it.  Then, his voice low, he told her “Go…show me.”

Obeying him, she sat on the couch. She didn’t more for a long moment,  praying she would wake from this dream. After a quick “Now!” she took a deep breath and lifted her legs, spreading them slightly. 

"This is how you sit?"

"Yes", she whispered. She was sweating now, nearly overwhelmed by the moments embarrassment. "Please, can we not do this?” she pleaded.

"Now, slide your hand between your legs and show me how you masturbate", he commanded.

Closing her eyes, she slid her right hand between her legs. More embarrassment flooded through her being as she discovered that she was extremely wet. Then, almost against her own command, her fingers began rubbing the sensitive flesh between her legs.

"I own that pussy”, he said. "Never forget that. I own it.?"

"Yes", she hissed.

"Say it."

"You own my pussy.”

"Again."

"You own my pussy”, she repeated. 

Before long, his repetitious command was no longer necessary and she began repeating the words as if a mantra. It was not long after that she became lost in her sexual excitement and found herself in need of release.

 "May I cum?" she asked, ever dutiful to ask, as he required of her.

"Who do you cum for?" he demanded.

"I cum for you", she replied.

"Tell me again. Who do you cum for?” he repeated.

“I cum for you.”

“When do you cum?” His voice was hard and demanding now.

“When you command it.” There was desperation building in her voice. "I cum for you. I cum when you command it. Please, may I cum? I need to cum so bad. Please, let me cum?"

“How badly do you want to cum?” he asked.

“So badly…so, so badly. Please let me cum!” Her voice was quivering with need.

“So, why don’t you cum?” he inquired.

“Because I’m not allowed...not without your permission,” she answered.

He smiled, pleased by her surprising willingness to suffer for him. He had, it seemed, under estimated her submissive nature and need to please. This miscalculation did not displease him in the least.

"Please...please, let me cum for you!" she was nearly frantic now.

"Stop rubbing", he said.

Frustrated, she let out a groan and hesitantly stopped rubbing, withdrawing her hand from her needy organ.

"You want to rub your pussy again?"

She hardly noticed the smug tone in his voice, knowing only the need for release. 

"Yes", she pleaded. "Please let me rub my pussy."

"What will you do for it?” he inquired, knowing her answer.

"Please...anything you want...I'll do anything. Just please let me rub my pussy. Let me cum." She sounded near to panic, so great was her frustrated need.

"You may rub."

Her hand was back between her legs, massaging the dripping orifice. Immediately, she began undulating and moaning. Then, as before, she began begging for release.

Not satisfied with her suffering, he made her desist her self-pleasure yet again. She groaned, pulling her hand from her sex, her hand hovering hesitantly over her need. 

"Please, I need to cum", she begged. "Please let me rub my pussy. Anything, I'll do anything."

Over and over he made her rub her sensitive flesh, making her pull her hand from her sensitive mound when she approached orgasm. Many times she would scream out her frustration as tears flowed down her face. But then, just as she neared her breaking point, she heard those magical words: "Cum for me, slut".

It burst upon her as if a thousand stars had exploded. Her sight left her visions of strange design, a kaleidoscope of ever changing chaos of color and light. Her knees were pulled against her body as her toes and feet twisted frantically about. Finally, exhausted and more than satisfied, her rubbing slowed and then came to a halt. 

“I didn’t tell you to stop rubbing, slut!” she heard.

Mindlessly, she began rubbing again. A quick command to “Cum, whore”, brought another orgasm. His command was repeated time and time again, until she begged him to let her rest. 

 “Please, let me rest…I can’t…I can’t…no more”, she begged.  

“You wanted to cum, slut”, he hissed. “Now, you have your wish. Cum for me.”

“Please…no more!” she cried out, another orgasm hitting her. “I can’t take it. Please!”

After a time, she could hear little, other than his repeated commands to cum and cum again.  Never did it enter her thoughts to disobey, even as she begged for mercy.

 “Stop, slut”, he finally commanded.

She obeyed. 

There was no thought at this point - no identity or emotion. There was only a sense of being and the need to obey his words. She did not know why, nor did she question it. At this moment, she was just an entity occupying space, obeying the only thing she knew; his voice.

“I own you”, he said. I was not a question or a demand. It was a statement of fact. “Say it.”

“You own me,” she forced out between breaths.

“Cum for me, cunt,” she heard.

Immediately she erupted in another orgasm, both arms slamming back against the couch cushions. Again and again he commanded she cum for him. Each time she obeyed with a blistering orgasm that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere.

"Stop!" he commanded. And it was over. 

"I own you,” he said again.

Then, as if nothing had occurred, he commanded she go to the bedroom and to await his arrival. He would shower and shave, he told her. "When I get settled into bed, I don't expect to have to tell you to suck my cock." 

Had she had her wits she might have been shocked. As it was she was barely able to acknowledge his words before shakily departing for his bedroom.  She was still nearly devoid of thought when, twenty minutes later, he slipped into bed. Once he was settled, she slid between his legs to suck his cock.

"Which do you prefer, dear...would you prefer I cum on your face or in your mouth?"

Momentarily freeing her mouth from his cock, she said "My face. Please cum on my face so I can wear it all night.”

It was not her preference. They both knew it. But it was his preference. He was quite pleased with her at that moment and he told her so. She smiled, glad that she had pleased him.

"Suck." It was a soft command; softer than usual. Somehow, it seemed to carry a tremendous weight that excited her. Obedient and eager to please him, she engulfed his cock with her mouth, sucking him to the best of her ability.

Many times he would halt her action to ask where she preferred to receive his cum. Each time he was met with "On my face".

Finally, he asked her "Do you think you are worthy to wear my cum?"

Lifting her head from his cock and furrowing her brow, she considered his question. Unable to find the proper answer: one that would please him. She gave a tentative "I don't know" before dipping her head to return to her chore. 

"You are not. Not yet. When you are worthy, I will cum on your face,” he told her. "For tonight, and until you are worthy, you will swallow. You will eventually wear my cum again. But only when I feel you are worthy to do so.” 

Later that night, long after he had filled her mouth with his hot and viscous fluids, she cried. What had she done wrong, she wondered. Why was she not worthy to have him cum on her face? She cried herself to sleep, wondering where she had failed him.

Slowly, as the months progressed, he re-enforced his edict that she was not worthy to wear his cum. Even when she began begging for him to allow her to wear his cum, he would tell her she was not worthy. 

“You may never be worthy to wear my cum, Deb”, he would tell her from time to time. “Your blowjobs have much to be desired and your obedience is lacking. When these things improve you might be worthy of wearing my cum. Until that time, I cannot see giving you that pleasure.”

Eventually, she began to see that he was right. She was not worthy of wearing his cum. She did talk back and she had nicked his cock with her teeth on more than one occasion. This did not discourage her, however. Instead, it steeled her to become more of what he wanted, hoping to be granted the honor of wearing his seed once again.

Her determination was obvious, pleasing him considerably. Often, he would consider her progression, knowing she would eventually allow her submissive nature to take over more completely. That was the day he reckoned would be the most joyous day of her life.



The Object of His affection – Pavlov’s Dog 4



It was the eve of their anniversary. She had gotten "all gussied up" at his command and now awaited his arrival at her door. When, at last, he arrived, he was in suit and tie, bearing flowers and a large gift-wrapped box.

"Happy anniversary, pet", he said, smiling. "I have something special for you. I only hope you accept it."

She could not imagine what he might have that she would not accept. A quizzical look on her face, she leaned in to kiss him and retrieve her bouquet. Then, after placing the large bouquet in a vase on her coffee table, she sat on the couch beside him, reaching for the gift-wrapped box. 

"Before you open your present, I want you to understand the significance of it”, he started. "If you accept the contents within, you will be expected to quit your apartment and move in with me. I want to have you day and night, for now and always."

Debbie burst into tears, falling into his arms in a strong embrace, covering his face with wet tears and emotion filled kisses.

"Of course, I'll move in", she nearly shouted. 

After wiping her face she turned to the box and began unwrapping it. What she found were four black leather cuffs and a wide leather collar of the same color. There was also a pair of black stiletto heels with a locking ankle strap.

"If you accept these gifts there is significance behind them", he said, looking into her eyes. "It means that our relationship will intensify and that you can look forward to experiencing many of the things I have told you about over the years."

For a moment she didn't know quite what to say. She had longed for him to use his cuffs and collar. She had longed to be bound and used for his pleasure. However, even after being with him for the last year, she feared much of how she knew he would use her.

"Can I think about it...give you my answer later tonight?"

"Let's go", he said. " When we get back you I’ll expect that answer."

Debbie was quite relieved. This was not something she could rush into and, though she loved him and had enjoyed her submission to him, she was still fearful of it.

Dinner was a pleasant affair. They talked and laughed, remembering old times and not so old times. Often, he would mention a particularly memorable evening of recent past, bringing a blush to her skin. 

“You recoil from certain of my comments,” he stated, stirring his drink. “But I know you like not being allowed to cum until I command it. I know you like when I embarrass you.”

“I do,” she acknowledge, still blushing. “I like everything, even what I don’t like. You…you make me want it. I don’t know how and it scares me. But I like it.”

By the time they returned to her apartment she was happy and excited, having already reached a decision regarding her gifts. As soon as they crossed the threshold and entered her living room she kissed him, embracing him tightly.

"Will you do something at my request, just this once?" she asked, smiling demurely.

"What is it?" 

"Will you go to the bedroom, get undressed and wait for me?" she asked.

He starred at her for a brief moment longer, considering her request. "Sure. I'll be waiting in bed. Don't make me wait long."

Once he had slipped away, she removed her clothing and applied his gifts to her body. First, she slipped on his collar, enjoying the sudden claustrophobic tightness as she buckled it on. Then, after fastening the cuffs about her wrists she slipped her feet into the menacing looking shoes and buckled them on as well. 

She discovered, as she looked through the box, that there was a small envelope. Curious, she opened it to discover that there were several small locks and a pair of keys. She tested them, discovering that, all the locks were identical and that one key was all that was necessary. In a moment, each of her adornments was locked on to her body, ensuring that only the bearer of the keys could release her from her trappings. Then, she headed to her bedroom and to the man who awaited her. 

His weight pressed heavily on her doubled body. She had been bound with her arms stretched and spread over her head. Her ankles, much as she had imagined, had been bound to their corresponding wrist. He was pounding into her, whispering words of lust into her ears and heightening thrill of the moment.

He was generous that night, not torturing her by making her wait. When she asked permission to cum it was granted each time. Then, as was his practice, when he neared climax, he asked “Where would you like me to cum?”

Suddenly melancholy and knowing she was not yet worthy, she replied “On my face”.

Then, as if in a dream, he pulled out of her and straddled her bound body. She watched in disbelief as he stroked his cock, spewing his semen across her face. Her melancholy was replaced, in that instance, with pride and happiness.

Three more times he made love to her bound body. Three more times she was found worthy to wear his cum.  Finally, spent, he lay down beside her and slipped into the darkness of sleep.

As he drifted into dreams, she lay beside him, proud to be wearing his cum. Her apparent worthiness filled her with happiness and pride. It was then that she realized that her worthiness was determined, not by the quality of her blowjobs or her obedience but by her willingness to give herself over. It was that release and it’s accompanying trust that had made her worthy to wear his seed. Happy, and with a smile on her damp and sticky face, she joined James in sleep.

Morning came to soon. With it, she discovered the pain that comes with being bound doubled over for so long. Looking over to James she could see that he was still sleeping. She thought, for a fleeting moment, that she might wake him and ask to be let loose of her bonds. Then she thought of how he had made her feel the previous night and decided to endure the discomfort she was feeling. Besides, she did not want to disappoint him in any way.

Eventually, the call of nature woke James. After a quick trip to the bathroom he returned and released her fatigued and sore body from her bonds.

“Suck my cock,” he commanded, lying back on the bed. 

Her initial reaction was one of irritation. She was quick to catch herself before her irritation was made public. After a quick stretch, she slid down between his legs and took his cock in her mouth. Fortunately for her cramping muscles, he was not long in reaching climax. After delivering a fresh coating of semen to her face, he commanded she ready breakfast while he showered.

Breakfast was nearly complete when he sauntered into the kitchen. She turned and smiled, dried cum flaking along the corners of her mouth and the dimples in her cheeks. 

"Cum for me", he commanded.

A brief moment passed as his words sank into her head. Suddenly the wave hit her and she was forced to grip the counter top to keep from falling to the ground. Moments later, she regained her strength and stared at him wide eyed.

"Bacon’s burning." He was casual, as if her cumming with only his command were an every day occurrence. 

Perplexed and slightly unbelieving in what had just happened, she returned to her cooking. She was in a daze during the rest of her cooking duty. She was still thinking of the strange occurrence when she finally placed their food on the table and took her seat opposite him. 

"How did you do that?" she inquired. "How the fuck did you do that?"

"Pavlov's dogs,” he said, grinning. "I trained you. Now, you cum on command."

"No fucking way! That's not possible”, she exclaimed. I'm not like some dog that you can train to do tricks."

"Yes you are. I own you. Now, cum for me." 

This time, there was no hesitation. Instead, the wave hit hard and quick. She stared at him from under troubled brows, excited, dismayed and frightened at this new development. When her orgasm finally subsided she opened her mouth, as if to speak. Nothing was emitted, however, and she stared, a dumb animal, unable to form words.

He smiled at her, noting the odd mix of emotions that were apparent on her semen coated face.

"Eat up", he said. 

Finally, after several long moments of silence, her thoughts returned to her. Several times she made to speak. Her thoughts, returned though they were, were a jumble and she was unable to form a coherent structure to them. She felt that she should say something: perhaps an edict of irritation or pleasure. Little came to her, however. 

"Oh my God. You...I...this can't be real!" she finally gasped. “You…I….can’t…what the hell?”

He merely chuckled, noting to her how pleased he was that she could be trained so well. He was quick to note, much to her chagrin, how “wonderful” she looked when cumming for him at his command. She was not so thrilled as he. 

It was nearly a week before she fully accepted and began to enjoy his control over her orgasms. She had worried, initially, that anyone could make her cum. He assured her that it was not likely. Few people, he offered, would likely make such a command. 

“Besides”, he offered, “It’s not just the command: it’s who commands.”

A month later she quit her apartment and moved in with him. On this day she was informed that she would be expected to change her house wear. Her collar, cuffs and stiletto heels were to be her standard mode of dress, unless otherwise ordered. When they were out, he allowed, she could wear whatever she wanted adding, “unless I have other ideas for your evening wear.” To her surprise, she found this edict quite arousing.

Weeks turned to months and then, before she knew it, another year was gone and they were fast approaching their second anniversary together. This anniversary, rather than present her with a gift, he requested one from her.

"It's a request and not a command,” he told her. "It requires your free consent and will not be considered disobedient should you choose against it.”

His request stunned her and she was glad he gave her time to mull it over. Even more relieving was that it was not a demand. With a bra size of thirty-four "DD" she was already a large breasted woman. Especially considering her breasts were housed on a five foot three inch frame. Having them enlarged, to whatever size he had planned, would make her look ridiculous.

Finally, on the day of their anniversary, she came to him and told him she could not grant his request and asked if she could give him anything else. With a smile, she was instructed not to worry on the matter. 

His calm and happy willingness to forget his request only served to disappoint her. For, despite his reaction, she felt as if she had failed him.



The Object of His Affection – Self-discovery 5



She lay on her belly, each ankle bound to it's corresponding wrist. If she could have she would have been screaming. Instead, she could only attempt to scream, a large ball gag halting her voice from completely expressing her pain. James lay on top of her, thrusting his cock into her ass. As she had always feared, it was a terrible pain and it could not end soon enough. 

When he had begun his binding he promised she would experience pain. He was quick to admit that he could make this a more pleasurable experience. In the future, it would likely bring her great pleasure and minimal, if any, pain. However, there was only one first time and his sadistic side was in need.

His entry was excruciatingly painful and felt as if he were ripping her in twain. As he had prepared her, he dripped a small amount of saliva between the crack of her posterior. Then, after rubbing his cock over the saliva and his intended target, he forced his way in. One slow and steady thrust and he was buried deep in her ass.

She screamed as best she could, hoping he would stop or withdraw or just give her a moment to recover. Her wish was not met. As soon as he had buried himself inside her ass, he began his long and painful strokes; each stroke nearly pulling from her tortured ass, only to be buried, once again, deep inside of her. 

At first entry, James reveled in her obvious pain and futile struggles. When his further thrusting was met with even more pain and struggles he was near to ecstatic. Consequently, the more she screamed and struggled, the harder and faster he thrust. It was a vicious cycle.

It was over too soon for James. After mere minutes he could contain himself no more. With a sudden jerking and arching of his back, he climaxed, sending a hot wave of fluid into her colon.

For a long while afterwards he lay on top of her, allowing his cock to grow soft inside her battered hole. With his softening he could feel the involuntary twitch of her sphincter. Pleasurable as that was, it hardly compared with her voluntary squeezing and pushing her felt. Few things were, to James, more intense or exciting than feeling a tightening asshole around his cock.

Lifting his head, he decided it might be time to pull the gag from her mouth. She might, he thought, be unable to breathe after so much crying. On the other hand, he was likely to get an ear full of angry complaints. Judgment and care prevailed.

Upon removal of the gag there was little from her other than soft crying. To his surprise, after she had regained herself, she did not offer up any words of anger or harsh comments. Instead, her words were a quiet description of the pain she had suffered. Then she returned to her quiet sobbing.

For many minutes James pondered her reaction to his brutal act of buggery. She had not expressed anger or told him she would never allow it again, as he expected. Instead, she seemed to have accepted it. More importantly, it seemed that she had accepted the possibility that she might suffer similarly in future. Her nature, he noted, was gaining more ground, while the headstrong woman was losing ground.

The next morning found them in the shower together. As many couples in love are wont to do, they were enjoying the sensuous pleasures of washing their lover. As is often the case, the two followed the occasion by drying each other off under the cover of the hot misty room.

Over breakfast they spoke of the previous nights activities. He admitted to her the intense pleasure it had provided him. Her struggles and tears, he told her, had caused him to find climax with considerable quickness. He also admitted to looking forward to enjoying such pleasures again.

Debbie was less enthusiastic. She admitted to wanting to experience anal sex but she had never wanted such pain. She concluded her comments on the matter with an expression of hope, that the next time wouldn’t be so painful.

“You’re enjoying the conversation, aren’t you?” asked James.

“No,” she said, avoiding eye contact. “It was painful and humiliating. Why would I enjoy talking about something that was so unpleasant?”

He pushed and prodded with invasive and embarrassing questions. Finally, in a burst of frustration, she admitted the conversation was arousing. 

“Look,” she concluded, “I don’t know why it’s arousing and I don’t like that it is! And that arouses me too! Okay?” 

"It's the humiliation", he told her. "You enjoy the humiliation."

She looked at him with furrowed brows. "You're nuts. Who, in their right mind, would get off on being humiliated?"

"You get off on it.” He was almost too matter of fact for her tastes; almost smug.

"No", she replied, looking into her coffee cup. "I don't like to be humiliated. I like that it pleased you, that's all."

After breakfast, he brought her to the living room and made her kneel in front of him. 

"In a few minutes, I am going to fuck your ass again. This time", he said, "You are not going to be tied up. This time you are going to be on your knees. This time I am going to cum in your mouth. Go take care of the dishes and return to the front room."

She swallowed hard, hoping to find a way to escape his proclaimed plans. She was not ready to be taken that way again. Beyond the pain, she was also disgusted at the thought of his cock going from her ass to her mouth. Before she could make to speak, he was gone, retiring to their living room.

The dishes were done in a haze. Throughout her chore she sought the words, which would get her out of this terrible predicament. Unfortunately, she was unable to find those words and, upon her arrival to the living room, she found herself quite unable to resist his wants.

"Are you my whore?" he asked.

"Yes, I'm your whore.” Her voice was thin and shaky.

She hated the term "whore". She hated all such derogatory terms for women. More than speaking those words, she hated calling herself a whore. Worse yet, she hated the excitement she felt at telling him she was a whore – his whore.

"Get on your hands and knees and get ready to take my cock up your ass", he ordered. 

Slow to obey, she received a stern look that made her feel insignificant and small. It was all it took to set her into motion.

"Get that ass up and your head down", he commanded. "I want to see that big ass of yours and nothing else, cunt!" 

She bit her lip and slumped into position. Her internal battle became greater and she began to question why she let him treat her so.

 "Tell me what you feel like right now."

She took a deep breath, assessing his question. "I feel horrible. I feel like a piece of meat...I hate it. And those words you used for me...I hate those words. They're demeaning."

"Why did you obey then?" he asked.

"I don’t know! Because I have to…it’s how you want me”, she began, “I want to be what you want. I need to…to be what you want me to be.”

James knelt behind her and reached out to her sex. She was wet. Fingers probed at her wet entrance, finding their way inside of her to stroke her. 

"You're plenty wet, aren't you?"

"Yes...yes, I'm wet.”  She was sobbing now.

"Would you still say that you dislike humiliation?"

"I can't like it", she cried. "If I did...if...there would be something wrong with me. What kind of person would I be?"

He continued stroking her; pointing out how wet she while using vile words to describe her and her reaction to his comments. Before long, she was panting, begging for release. He would not allow it.

"Not yet, my cum slut. Not until you admit how much you like this humiliation”, he whispered to her.

She cried out, frustrated and angry. She knew that she should storm out and tell him what she thought of his words but she could not bring herself to do so. Instead, she begged for release.

"Not until you admit it, cunt!" he said, his voice sounding contemptuous.

She hated him, suddenly. He already knew how she reacted to his humiliating words and treatment. He already knew how it aroused her. Wasn’t it enough that he knew? Why should she have to tell him? All these thoughts filled her mind. Suddenly, she heard her thoughts. It was at that exact moment when he withdrew his hand from her twitching sex, drawing a terrible groan of protest.

"Please, please, don't stop. I need it. Please, I'll do anything", she begged. " I like being called names and being treated like a whore. Please...let me come! Please! I like being humiliated. " 

He did not appease her. Instead, he clipped her chin with his finger, lifting her to face him. “Good girl,” he told her, before leaving her with her thoughts.

Humiliated, confused and ashamed, Debbie curled into a ball on the floor and cried as she had never cried before. Such torture was repeated with more and more frequency in the coming months. Each night she would fight it, eventually giving in. Each night, she would be left to cry, alone with her painful knowledge. 

Eventually, she gave up fighting what she knew was true without a fight. Immediately after, she broke down in tears. Unlike before, however, James was quick to take her in his arms and whisk her into their bed, to comfort her and wipe away her tears.

“One does not choose ones sexual orientation or skin color anymore than one chooses what excites them sexually,” he explained. 

She accepted his comments - mostly. Somewhere deep down, however, she wondered if he was wrong and if she hadn't committed some crime that she was subconsciously punishing herself for.
