Office Call

I was at my desk in the early evening, shuffling through some papers. I had the phone propped against my ear. I was trying to look busy but I was distracted.

He was growling into my ear, telling me all of the things he wants to do to me. I was quiet except for occasional murmurs. I couldn't melt into my chair like I wanted to do, nor could I address him as "Sir" like I know he expected.

But he knew that he was getting to me. I was quiet, but he knew. He kept talking until I was lulled into a trance. His words were so cruel and sadistic, but I felt calm, like he had laid a heavy blanket over me.

"You love this, don't you?," he cooed.

"Yes," I whispered, afraid to say any more.

"I can tell. I can hear it in your breathing. I can hear your submission. I can hear the change in your voice."

I sighed and let his words wash over me. Outside my office door, the busy day continued but I remained still at my desk. I breathed in and out, shallow expectant breaths.

"Listen to what I can do to you," he whispered. "I love what I can do to you."

Icy

I was chatting on the phone to him in the kitchen. I was making a drink, dropping ice cubes into a glass one by one. He heard the sound of the ice through the phone and asked what I was doing. When he heard that I had a tray of ice out, he made a thoughtful "hmmm..." sound. I could hear the wheels turning in his head.

"What are you wearing?," he asked suddenly. I told him that I was wearing shortie pajamas, and he made me strip down to nothing while I stood there in the kitchen. "Take a piece of ice and put it in your mouth. Let me hear you suck on it, " he instructed. I lapped at the ice. "Smooth down one end of the cube in your mouth."

I looked around me, wondering what the neighbors could see through the window, if anything. Would a naked girl sucking on ice strike them as strange?

He continued: "Spread your pussy open with one hand and touch the ice to your clit with the other...don't take it off until I say so."

I took a deep breath and paused.

"I'm waiting," he growled.

I touched the ice to my clit and immediately cried out. The cold, hard pain was much more intense than I thought it would be. It burned my sensitive, exposed skin and I wanted to pull the ice away immediately.

"Keep the ice there until I say, Kitten," he urged over my cries. I held the ice, held it, longer than I thought I could, before he let me take my hand away.

"Did that hurt, Kitten," he cooed, as if he didn't make it hurt in the first place. He was sympathizing with me over pain that he had caused. But I was so relieved that he had let me take the ice off of my clit and that the feeling was returning to my pussy that I didn't notice.

As soon as my whimpers of pain subsided, he spoke again with that hard tone in his voice. "Put it back on your clit, now Kitten." I whined, but complied, crying as the pain burned icy-hot on my pussy.

He made me do it over and over again, until my legs were shaking as I tried to remain standing in the kitchen. He even made me touch the ice to my asshole, making me shudder and sob from the sensation. But I did it. I didn't even think about disobeying, although I could have. I could have said no, I won't hurt myself for your sick amusement, I won't get you hard with my cries of pain.

An hour later, after he let me come hard, kneeling in the puddle of water on the kitchen floor, I thought about why I did exactly what he wanted me to do. I thought about the feeling of his hand over mine as I moved the ice toward me, and his hand on my neck as he stood behind me while I writhed in pain. I was struck by how he seemed to be there with me throughout the entire experience, whispering in my ear and requiring my compliance with his very presence.

But he wasn't there, and he couldn't have hurt me if I didn't comply. And he wouldn't even have known if I didn't comply but pretended that I did. But none of those options crossed my mind. In the moment, I did something that hurt me very badly and made me extremely uncomfortable just because I thought I had to.

He reprogrammed me. He rewired me. He's inside my mind now. What else could he make me do, now that I'm like this?

Anything

We were on the phone the other night. He had me put the beads in my own ass while he listened on speaker phone. Then he had me kneel by the side of the bed, come for him and pull them out. It is sort of humiliating that he can make me do this to myself, that he has such control over me - even over the phone - to make me do this. But I do it because I wouldn't dare disobey.

After I was done, he was reveling in his power over me. He said, "I can do anything to you, can't I?" He sounded so satisfied with himself, so powerful.

See, he didn't say "You'll do anything for me, won't you?" He said that he could do anything to me. It was a small difference in word choice but it spoke volumes to me.

I was sort of unsettled by what he said, even though I didn't say anything to him about it. I immediately flashed back to high school and that group of boys who had all been with the "slutty girl" at a party. They were boastful, confident after their conquest. They gathered around one of the boys' lockers and gossiped loudly so everyone could hear - about her, about how they could do anything to her. She gave herself to them and they shamed her in that hallway in front of everyone.

I know that he doesn't use me in the way those boys used her. I know that he loves me and doesn't want to shame me like that. But I see that he has such power over me, just as the boys had all those years ago. The shame that had been so deeply ingrained in me just doesn't go away. The sing of being that slutty girl, the girl they could do anything to, just doesn't go away. The feeling of being vulnerable, pliant, putting everything you have out there for the pleasure of others, hoping that for just one moment you will receive a taste of the love that you deserve. A moment of pure love.

Maybe I was offended by what he said because, in the end, it is true. He can do anything he wants to me. I am that powerless. I am exactly that vulnerable. He is right.

Ownership, Part II

I spent most of last weekend apart from Him. I had family obligations and a long-planned girls' night out, and I just couldn't find time to see him for several days. I was feeing a bit lost without him and I know he was hurting. He kept calling and demanding that I come for him over the phone in more complicated ways (in a public restroom, with two fingers in my ass, etc.). I was in constant contact with him, but I struggled to manage my obligations and remain under his control.

On Saturday night, I was out to dinner with my friends and I was feeling listless. We had just ordered and they were having a conversation about a popular television show. I don't watch the show, so I felt disconnected from the conversation, but there was more to it than that. I had spent the whole day with these people who don't know about the D/s aspect of my relationship with Him. I felt like a part of me was missing. I don't need to talk about my submission all the time, but to live like it doesn't exist made me quite uneasy.

Until I received several texts from Him:

I want you on your knees when you get home.
Fingers on your clit.
Then call me.

I breathed a sigh of relief. He was thinking of me and would reach out to control me soon. His words would wrap around me and keep me safe until I could see him. I texted him back "yes, Sir."

In a moment, another barrage of messages came through:

You are in so much trouble when I see you next.
Just wait until I get my hands on you.
You are going to get the spanking of a lifetime.

I shivered with delight. I wasn't in trouble for anything, but he was warning me that his desire was growing, that he would need to hurt me when he finally saw me.

Then the final message came through:

"Don't forget that I own you."

That was all I needed. I looked around the restaurant, feeling a surge of pride. I am owned, I thought to myself over and over again. I am owned. How do all of these people go through life without this feeling? Weren't they lost, all on their own? I felt so lucky at that moment to be owned by Him, to be under his control. I felt fortunate that I had found him, that my long time in the wilderness, searching for that missing piece, was over. I felt safe and secure and in my place. My submission was with me all the time, as long as I could remember.

"Romantic messages?," my friend asked.

"Oh yes, he is so romantic," I sighed wistfully and smiled quietly to myself.

Text

Him: Mm i've got such fun ideas for a new toy for you
kitten: Oh yeah?
Him: Yes. I already know one thing i am getting you
kitten: Please tell me!
Him: No. You have to wait like a good girl
kitten: Please?
Him: Trust me it will be worth the wait.
kitten: *pouts*
Him: Patience
Him: In the meantime i want you to cum for me when you get home tonight
Him: Got it? Right to your bed. Panties off and then call me
kitten: Yes sir.
Him: Good. I want you to taste your pussy on your fingers while I listen

Stop

"Where is your hand right now?"

"On my pussy," I whispered into the phone.

"Keep touching it. Are you close?"

"Yes," I panted.

"How close?"

"Very close. May I come, please?," I begged.

"No, stop touching it right now."

I whined and reluctantly pulled my hand away. I was silent for a moment.

"Where is your hand right now?"

"A few inches above my pussy."

"Good. You can start touching it again, slowly. Tell me when you get close."

I lowered my hand and started rubbing my clit in slow circles. My breathing quickened and I felt the pressure building. "I'm close, oh god, I'm so close..."

"Stop. Right now."

"Oooh, no...," I whined in desperation.

"Did I heard you say no?"

"No, I didn't say that. I just want to come so badly." I writhed around the bed a little even though he wasn't there to see me.

"Let's try this one more time. Touch your pussy now."

I rubbed furiously, so close that I thought I would explode at any minute. "Can I come now please? Please?"

"Yes, you can come. You beg so well like a good girl, so you can come. Come for me right now."

And I did. He had forced me to let it build and build. That restriction, momentary as it was, made me come even harder for him.