Obedience

[Ar****]

His hands glide over your shoulders, worn and warm. His fingers graze your neck as you hold out your arms, unable to speak. Your coat falls to the floor, a misshapen lump of red. His lips press against your throat.
“I need clear consent,” he murmurs. “If you refuse, it is your right, and I will see you safely home.”
“If not?” The whisper tumbles from your lips. “What happens then?”
His voice is near your ear. “Then you are my plaything tonight, and will do what I want with you. You remember the limits we discussed? I’ll honor them. But you’ll belong to me until we’re through.”
“That one,” you say at once. “Definitely that one.”
His laugh is like a growl in his throat. “Then answer me appropriately.”
“Please, know I consent, Master,” you say. “I trust you.”
His answer is delicate fingers at your zipper. The dress joins your coat; he groans at the sight of your 1940’s lingerie, black, lacy, complete.
“Good girl,” he says, running a hand over your garter absently. You shiver at his touch on your thigh. “GOOD girl…”
He guides you to the cross, securing your wrists and ankles. A satin blindfold, a gag. “Nod your head three times and I will release you without question,” he murmurs, tweaking at a nipple. “Nod once to show you understand now.”
You Bob your head rapidly.
The flogger takes you by surprise. You moan into you gag, your body straining automatically. Your breathing is ragged as he continues, and he stops to attach a belt to your thigh, forcing a magic wand against your clit.
You scream, and the flogger starts again. One minute, the agony is his pleasure; the next, your body transmutes, and it’s yours. Your mind fogs. Your moans encourage more—harder, please—
You scream again when the wax coats your breasts, the pretty bra and panties long since cut away.
The buzz of his fuck machine makes your whole body shudder. He coats his fingers in scented lube and enters you, humming in approval at your soaked pussy. When he’s three fingers deep, he stops, inserts anal beads, and then the dildo fucks your pussy.
You’re panting like an *** now, for pleasure builds. You orgasm, and he removes your gag. His lips against yours. His hand is at your nipples, the other holding that infernal, wonderful, maddening machine.
“Master,” you finally gasp. “What about you?”
“When you come five times,” he says, “I’m going to fuck this ass for myself.”
Your heart beats louder than the toy.

He’d been nothing but gentle once dawn kissed your horizon. He’d rubbed your hands and feet, carefully lowering you from your bonds. A drink of cold water and some chocolate pretzels are next, followed by sleep in a clean bed, his warm arms around you.
Returning to life after true release is difficult. The memories flood you, warm and tantalizing, but it isn’t until lunch his number lights your phone with a text.
Tonight at seven. Dress well. What is your safeword?
Glass, you text back immediately.
And what happens when you use it?
The scene stops without consequences, Master. BDSM is about trust and safety.
Good girl.
Seven pm sees you in a navy evening gown and single strand of freshwater pearls. Another set of lingerie rustles beneath, delicious against your sensitive skin.
“Welcome, miss. I take it you’re with Mr. Blake?” And, as you nod; “excellent. You’re in the VIP room, then. If you’ll follow me?”
You follow him to the back, past a room with a single black door. You relax slightly as you see him, smiling like summer and latent as tears.
He pulls out your chair and beckons the waiter. A glass of red will appear shortly, and sure enough, the charming young man sets one before you. Master takes and smells it, nods in approval, and describes not only the bouquet, but the g***s, the vineyard.
To your surprise, the door opens again. A woman in plum velvet enters the room. She has a mane of wild brown curls and grey eyes, but you can’t take your eyes off her lips. They’re soft, inviting.
You take another drink.
“Angelica,” your master says in greeting. The woman bows her head.
“Theodore,” she acknowledges. Her eyes catch you like a net. “This is her?”
And, at his nod; she takes your chin in her hand, forcing you to meet her gaze. “My dear,” she says warmly, “you’re every bit as pretty as he promised.” Her fingers trail over your wine-soaked mouth. “It’s such a pity you’re so delicate for a selfish little slut. Isn’t it?”
She sits. More wine. Your heart beats rapidly, but he does nothing but observe you carefully, his full attention as heavy as moonlight. “Answer her,” he says quietly.
“Y-yes,” you manage, your cheeks as red as sundown.
“Yes….?” She draws you out, a calm, clear challenge in her face.
“Yes, I’m sorry I’m a selfish little slut, miss Angelica.”
She chuckles. “Angelica is fine for now. Mistress is only for good girls who deserve treats.”
And just like that, you know. The conversation is cultured and witty, enjoyable; the food superb. You drink too much wine before you realize it and excuse yourself to the posh bathroom to send a text to master.
I consent, you write. Before I drink any more, I consent and remember to clearly accept whatever attention you think I deserve. Please forgive my overindulgence.
As you emerge, the desert is on the table. You sit, and Angelica studies you. You pour a glass of water, and she nods in approval.
“You have something on your face,” she says absently. She leans forward to brush away some little speck of dust, but her hand takes your leg, pulling back your dress. Her fingers graze your pussy through your panties. “Did I get it?”
Wetness spurred forward to meet her touch. “Yes, thank you,” you manage breathlessly.
“You can call me mistress now,” says Angelica calmly. “Get on the table.”
You shrink back. “I beg your pardon?”
“This is my restaurant,” she continues. “The staff are gone. It’s just us, and you will climb on the table and lie down.”
“You can use your safeword, pet,” says Master. “At any time.”
His voice rejuvenates you.
You climb on the table with determination and ***. They join the perfect meal heating your belly. He puts a clean napkin in your mouth, holds down your wrists. Mistress Angelica pulls your dress up to show your lingerie, which she carelessly pulls away from you, not even bothering to undress you properly. She takes your nipple in her mouth and you gasp, the other rolling in her hand. Your panties finally soak through.
“Oh, you poor little slave,” she promises. “Your ***’s just begun…”
"Angelica is your mistress now," Master said calmly.
"Beg, my little slut."
"Please please please!" You sob. It's all been too much and you're wet beyond reason. "Please don't stop!"
Mistress laughs. "You will crawl," she says. "Come with me."
You do. With trained dignity, you follow her, entering a secret passage. Inside is a sex dungeon. Ornate and scented with incense.
"We're going to play a little drinking game, Theo," Mistress purrs. "Drink, or fuck her?"
He enters you like a man on fire, naked from the waist down. As he does, mistress straps on a dildo and fucks your tender throat. You're moaning within moments, drenched, but nobody comes. She hooks you into a stocks next, secured you, and bends down to lick your pussy.
Her fingers play with your clit. One hand enters your tight ass. You moan, and master comforts you.
"Mistress!" You scream. "Please, don't stop!"
Master inserts himself in your throat, drunk himself and out of control. He gums inside and mistress ***s you to finish with that wicked mouth and fingers. You sag, but she only mounts you to a sybian.
You struggle but you can't stop. You beg, and master takes your throat.
“Unnnngh," you manage. Your eyes roll back.
"Master! Master!"
He pushes Angelica towards you, forcing her to kiss you. He enters her, cupping her breasts, ruining her.
She kisses you, lost, her tongue exploding in your soft mouth.
"More!" Whines mistress, "more, more!"
Master frees you.
"Make her cum," he says, "and I'll make you cum so many times you'll never stop..."

You'd meant to be responsible that day. Meant to.
But you'd been so wet.
What Master did to you...
Had been explosive. Porn came on your screen to omit the hunger, but it wasn't enough. You watch the master on the monitor tie, flog women; watch his sultry minions lick her pussy... toy her holes....
You'd meant to be good. Meant to.
But he came unannounced. Your next zoom meeting was his tongue and fingers below the monitor as you stammered answers. Mercifully, it's the last of the day. He cuffed your wrists and ankles to the table.
He holds you down as he cums inside you, safely and with a condom.
The wax comes next. Your breasts, your pussy,
***ted red and burning. Your eyes roll. You beg.
The fuck machine is a welcome relief. He simply ties it to you so he can take your supple mouth, your pussy straining. A knock at the door admits three more men, masked, in suits. Without untying you, they take you from the table, fucking your every orifice at master's command. A beautiful blond, blindfolded, an o gag in her mouth, sucks him off.
All she can hear is a symphony of your moaning as he takes her. All you see is master fucking her as the men use you, again, again.
"Leave us," he orders. The men leave. He smiles.
"Come and use her, pet," he says. "Fuck her, and I'll fuck you..."

You've learned to sense Master's mood through his choices, so you're surprised to see a comfortable pair of jeans, a graphic tee and new tennis shoes laid out for you. Bra and panties, no lingerie.
You don them with a smile. What perverse behavior would you complete for him tonight?
A dive bar is not what you expected. It's loud and crowded. Master is dressed down, a suit coat, tshirt and jeans. He waves you over, and you smile at the flower on your seat, a single rose.
" owe you an apology," he says, ordering your favorite soda. "I know we've discussed safeword and limits, but I never stopped to break them down with you safely. I only acted for a scene on what I presumed was a one-time event. I failed you."
"Master?" You can't believe your ears. "But I clearly consented, I-"
He holds up a hand. "You misunderstand me. You did nothing wrong. If anything, you've been exemplary. But at this point, I think it's fair to say that we're both interested in more than a single night's scene. Do you agree with that assessment?"
"Yes," you say, firmly and clearly. "I've enjoyed our time together and want it to continue. You're the best dominant I've ever had, and I trust you, Master."
"Theo," he says gently. "If we're not in a scene and in public, l'd like you to use my name, please." The waiter returns, and he orders a burger for himself and one for you. You're surprised he remembers your preferences. A partner hasn't done this for you before, so simply and without show.
You enjoy a good meal together, laughing, talking, in an open, happy way. Sex rarely comes up. Theo is well-read and educated, suave and amusing, charming you into starlight.
He pays the tab against your protests-you can actually afford this restaurant-and then his smile vanishes. The warmth remains in his eyes.
"You may notice we're not drinking tonight," he says.
"This is a question I need you to be sober and sure for. It's too important for bribes."
"Theo?"
He pulls a long parcel from his pocket, deceptively plain. The black box shines in the light against its red bow.
"Open it," he says softly. You do, and gasp. A red leather collar with a single moonstone sits inside, soft and pure. The gemstone shines in the light, blue and green and white. The buckle is copper.
"A collar is a serious commitment in our community," Theo says, a faint blush ruining his words. "It represents assurance, trust, a dynamic of love and unity. It is more than our scenes. It tells the world that you are my submissive, and it is my pleasure, my honor, to be responsible for your safety and respect, your pleasure and... your future." His dark eyes search yours. He pulls a long parcel from his pocket, deceptively plain. The black box shines in the light against its red bow.
"Open it," he says softly. You do, and gasp. A red leather collar with a single moonstone sits inside, soft and pure. The gemstone shines in the light, blue and green and white. The buckle is copper.
"A collar is a serious commitment in our community," Theo says, a faint blush ruining his words. "It represents assurance, trust, a dynamic of love and unity. It is more than our scenes. It tells the world that you are my submissive, and it is my pleasure, my honor, to be responsible for your safety and respect, your pleasure and... your future." His dark eyes search yours. "I don't expect an answer tonight, if you're not comfortable. Refusing this collar is not necessarily an end to our time, but rather a continuation of mutual pleasure..." He stops-smiles-and looks to you.
"[your name,] will you accept my collar?"
You're sure. You've been sure since the first night he met you, the crook of his smile, the light in his laugh.
You've been sure with the care and respect he has shown you, the wild nights, the scenes in his mind.
You finger the leather with longing and a lump in your throat.
"Yes, Theo," you say at last. Your eyes shine in the light. "Yes, I will!"
He fastens it around your willing throat, and it is done...
You are his.

Black lingerie in frothy lace. Garter belts, attached by buckles. A flowing, translucent nightie. Silver flat shoes.
A stunning eye mask with pearls. A huge feather for your hair. Women come to do your makeup, your curls, your nails; even making your hands and feet soft and tender. Theo comes to fasten your collar, the moonstone humming with your connection.
He's in a fitted suit that shimmers like the gem, his tie a perfect match in shade to the maroon collar. He's has a black cane that shines, a gold tip atop to match his pin, which-you realize with a jolt-is made of your entwined initials.
His mask is red, with small, gold-tipped horns in his hair. It reveals his luscious mouth, which curves into a smile.
"Come with me," he says, and you do, gladly.
The waiting car is no surprise.
The mansion it pulls up to, with other folks alighting in a mix of masquerade formality and kink wear, is.
The house is a statement at night, with lanterns illuminating the Palladian cream. Flower petals rain from the roof.
Dancing is an understatement. The room is awash with happy revelry, cider and wine and liquor.
Waitstaff scurries with platters of delicacy. Two thrones wait at the top, one of lacquered black, the other, smaller, in pale white marble. On a stage, a gagged woman is spanked, her cheeks flushed, her wild curls beauteous.
"My dove," says Theo. "What would you like?"
You eye the stage and flush, unable to voice the request. "Some wine, please, Master."
He beckons a nearby server, who pours you a crystal goblet. Master takes a few oysters on a small plate, feeding them to you with care.
You dance. There's something in and of that music, something wonderful, freeing. Strange women touch you affectionately.
"You landed him after all!" The blond from a few days earlier is stunning in silver beads and lace. "I'd so hoped you would!"
"I like him," you say, suddenly shy. "He pushes me-"
"Master Theo, everyone!"
The room bursts into applause as the MC shakes Theo's hand.
"Is it true you have a performance for us?"
Theo chortles. "Only if the lady has no objection." He motions you to him, and he nods to the stage. "May I spank you?"
You can say no and you know it, but you don't.
You take his hand and he leads you up, blindfolding you and putting you in stocks. He spanks you to thunderous cheers and calls. You're dripping, drenched, and he stops to finger you into orgasm.
"Why don't you thank all the nice people watching," he suggests slyly.
"Please don't stop!" You cry out. A few laughs come from the audience. You explode to shouts and cheers. Theo unhooks you and brings you water, cleaning you backstage.
"That was beautifully done," says Angelica, appearing from nowhere and fixing your lipstick. "Did you enjoy it?" She smiles. "Nevermind. The look on your face is more than enough... for now." She kisses your cheek.
More revelry. You're on cloud nine. At the time of midnight, the MC announces the pair of you've won for "best performance". Theo leads you to the thrones.
A beautiful crowd convalesces upon you both.
Master's pants are opened; a woman sucks him off as he sucks someone else's nipples. Countless hands pull open your tied nightie to touch you until you're near orgasm, eventually tying your hands behind your back and putting you on top of master's hard cock.
"Good slave," he says softly, and fucks you for the party.... Or for him.... Or for you.
Tonight, you think it's all of the above.