“No, this way.”
The same young woman who had brought her juice sat beside her, demonstrating the “proper” way that she had been taught to sit and wait for her Master. Carefully, she turned Ebony’s hands palms down on her thighs, then repeated the gesture herself. Her eyes closed, her head tilted up, and she paused a moment before turning to the older woman.
“Right! You’ve got it now. This how he likes me to be when he comes home from work, sitting on a mat next to the front door.”
Ebony shook her head in wonder. The things she’d seen and heard in the last half hour had surprised her. The ethics of the subs, how sincere they all were. To a one, “pleasing” their Dom had been their first answer. Her Sir-for-today had encouraged her to wander and talk to the people here, though there weren’t all that many, considering that it was late on a typical work afternoon. He had removed her bra, leaving her nude. She had balked at that but he’d been adamant. If she wanted to talk to people she needed to fit in. He’d also slipped a red collar around her neck, buckling it loosely, but not explaining the why of it. She’d asked, and he’d ignored her question. As a reporter, one got used to that happening, a lot. But here in this place of open honesty? It had rankled! If he wanted her roly-poly self wandering around this place, clad in only a red collar, well so be it. After a few minutes she really didn’t notice her nudity.
As she learned the proper way to kneel, then sit, she asked uli about his reticence to answer her questions.
“That was his way,” slave uli had told her. “Some Master’s are like that. They don’t want to explain to their property, they just want them to accept.”
“But why?” She couldn’t figure out the why of such protocols.
“Because,” uli spoke patiently, as if she was explaining to a child. “This is what he wants. Most of us want to serve. It..it feeds us.” she stopped, staring at Ebony as if willing her to understand.
“And it’s just as simple as that?”
“Yes.” uli nodded, smiling. “It must feel strange to you.”
Ebony thought of her own day to day. Free to go where ever, to eat whenever or whatever she wanted. But was she truly happy? She sighed, because honestly? She wasn’t. Something was missing, to be sure. It wasn’t just a man, or a bed partner. There was, she had discovered here today, a deep lack in her life.
“Not…strange. Just…not what I’m used to. Being under the control of someone else…it’s a bit…well…frightening, isn’t it?”
“Yet you wear Sir Will’s collar.” uli smiled at her, then fingered the small gold tag that kept tickling at the hollow of Ebony’s throat.
“There was a time, when I first came here, that I yearned for Sir Will. But then my Master saw me, and it was like…white lightning.”
“just like that, eh?” Ebony hid a smile.
uli turned her eyes towards the window above them. There were two windows looking down at the “Play Room”; one was in the office where she’d first come in. This one was in the owner’s room. When she’d first asked about it, she’d thought that meant “owners of slaves”, a room where they could gather separate from their subs. Something akin to a sky-box at a sporting arena, albeit a very different sort of “sport”. Suddenly, things clicked.
“What is his name? Your Master?” she asked uli, her tone excited.
“Oh, he’s not here today,” uli said. The window above them was dark, unlike the one where the office was.
“I know, uli…but his name…is it–” she paused. “…Master Charles?”
“How did you know that?” the girl looked surprised.
Ebony threw back her head and laughed. Damn Charlie! No damn way. And yet. Memories from high school came to mind. He’d been chief organizer of their group. He’d gotten the nickname “Charlie Planner” out of an even mix of annoyance and love. No detail had ever escaped his keen mind. He could be fierce, too. She remembered that he’d beaten the shit out of one of her boyfriends for crossing him. He’d gone on to college, made a success of his life. He’d never married…she’d always wondered about that. And now to discover that he had this little girl as his sex slave. If he hadn’t spoken to her last week about the wedding, she’d never have guessed at this secret side of him. She saw the look on uli’s face, and rushed to reassure her.
“Listen, I’m not laughing at you. It’s just…Charlie and I go way back. We were friends in high school, and…this is just a whole other side that I never expected to see. Funny the things you don’t know about people, right?”
uli nodded, biting her lip.
“He’s also the reason I was here last night, and indirectly, why I’m here today. He must have known that doing this story would have gotten me curious. Curious enough to want to experience this.”
“He is good to me. I love him very much.”
Ebony patted her shoulder, smiling. Who wouldn’t love Charlie, she wondered. He was a great guy. She watched uli move through her positions, explaining the “why” of each one, engrossed in trying to understand this side of the man she’d called a friend for decades.
A hand landed on her shoulder. She turned, looking up at her Sir. Sir-for-a-day. Whatever the hell he was.
“Don’t worry about memorizing all that stuff. I’m not into protocol. You do what I say, things are good.”
“of course they are,” she muttered. He tugged her hair, but she giggled.
“Come with me, slut,” he said, hooking a finger in the metal loop on the front of her collar and pulling her behind him.
“I’m not a puppy,” she protested.
“Egads,” she replied, making him laugh.
He led her to a small, private room, and shut the door.
“It’s time to talk. About questions you have about this. About how you feel about this. About whether you’ll ever have the guts to walk back through that door out there.”
“Sluttus Interruptus,” he said, eyebrow lifted.
“Sorry, Sir.” She bit her lip, trying hard to not laugh. Was it nerves, maybe? He looked so solemn and serious, but there was also a twinkle in his eye.
“I think you have untapped feelings regarding submission. You respond sexually to pain. You respond sexually to being controlled. You respond sexually to being humiliated…these are all good things. Society would tell you otherwise, that you’re wanton, a slut, a whore, perhaps.”
“In here, or in our private lives, we demystify those terms. They are not insults, but words. You are a slut. You like sex, you look very sultry naked, and when you move around a room, men want to fuck you. I’m sure there are a few women who would also be interested.”
She stared at him, still a bit stymied at the frank talk. Nothing was left hidden, all the cards were out on the table.
“I’m interested. Today you wore my collar, for I was your guide into the unknown. You must to go now, for you need time to recover and process. But…..you have a choice to make before you do.”
He looked at her, into her. His gaze was assessing, and made her feel quivery deep inside her belly. It was arousal, and something more.
“One. You may remove my collar and leave it on the hook by the entry door.”
He paused a moment, letting that sink in. She understood now the significance of wearing a collar. That it engendered a sense of belonging. It was comfort, and possession, and mutual obligation. Option one made her feel….abandoned. She felt silly admitting that to herself, that in such a short time she felt so close to him. That she felt that…needy. Nonetheless, the thought of leaving the collar on the hook made her sad.
“Your second option is to go home wearing it. It is a mark of some fidelity. If you are with someone now, and need to hide this side of you…”
He broke off as she shook her head no.
“Yes. I was married, but I’m not any more.”
“Well, the choice, as they say, is in your hands. It’s one of the rare times that a sub of mine gets a choice. You would be my sub, my fucktoy, my playmate. I will hurt you for our mutual pleasure. I won’t do life-altering damage to you, carve off your nipples, that sort of thing. But I will mark you, even scar you, perhaps. I will make you cry. I will give you more pleasure than you ever dreamed of. In here it is total honesty-in fact, anything between us must be. These are all things you must think about before you decide whether to leave here wearing my collar, or hang it on the hook.”
He paused, looking into her. She felt her nipples rise at the intensity of his gaze. He did something to her, to her insides. She was reminded of uli’s comment just a bit ago.
Yes, she felt that. From his eyes, straight to her core. His voice made her wet, as she soaked up every word he spoke. She looked at him and read sincerity in all he’d said. She understood what he was saying, what he was asking. Not for marriage, nor for permanence, not yet. But for a start.
“I have added my phone number to your cell. Your things are behind you on the shelf. If you decide to wear my collar, I’ll expect a text from you this evening at 7 p.m.”
He stood abruptly, then bent to kiss her on the top of her head. The door closed quietly behind him.
She rose, stretching a bit, bending first to touch the floor, then up on the balls of her feet, reaching high overhead. Working the kinks out, as it was said. She smiled. As if! Crossing the room, she opened the door, then went downstairs. The red collar around her neck caught her eye as she passed the mirror in the foyer.
She stopped, fingering the thin leather strap, admiring the red line, so reminiscent of a welt, wrapped around her throat. The contrast with her skin, not to mention the symbolism of it, moved something in her. Her finger poked at the gold tag, embossed with a “W” until it shimmied and danced. She would be sad to take it off.
Yet, off it would come.
It was a first step. A big, giant, humongous first step. Yet, she considered herself a brave woman. Life was often about taking first steps and big chances. If you didn’t change things up, you’d never experience anything. She’d never have ridden that elephant, never been bent over a spanking bench. Never have met Sir Will.
Smiling, she moved down the stairs and into her office. Sitting at the computer, she booted it up and began to write:
How surprised I was by your invitation to attend a D/s wedding. It certainly was an interesting topic to learn about. I enjoyed the experience immensely.
I’m not sure what you saw in me that led up to you to sending me to Club Crop, but I thank you for it.
As I’m certain you know by now, I’ve gone from being Sir Will’s sub-in-training, to standing on the threshold of our permanent collaring ceremony. It’s been a journey that both of us have enjoyed. I feel like an entirely different person. If not for you, Charlie, I’m certain I’d never have met Will, and that would have been a great loss.
I’d like to ask for you to stand by my side next weekend when He formally accepts me as His, and puts His permanent collar around my neck. You nudged me along this path, after all, so you really need to be there. Kind of like giving me away.
I’m scared/nervous/excited/so fucking happy!
Please give uli a hug for me! And thank her for the chocolate cake recipe. Who knew I’d like being in the kitchen so much?
PS. You must get one hell of a laugh that someone that you knicknamed “Blackie” in High School has come over to “the dark side”…!
With a grin, she hit “send”.