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The Reunion [mf ds con]
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
YOU KNOW IT DON'T COME EASY.
The Reunion
This is a true story, but if it is
somehow traced back to me I will have to deny
it. It deals with a relationship between a
woman and a man. If you have never been in a
submissive relationship then stop here and
don't waste your time.
***
Gray skirt with a white blouse and my
lucky pearl earrings. That's what I decided
to wear for the long awaited reunion. It was
not an easy decision to make. Going back to
him, I mean.
I left him 9 months ago. We both saw it
coming. The intensity of the relationship
was too high, to all consuming, I had to
breathe again. Become my own woman again.
Just doing simple things on my own, like
getting dressed for a dinner with a
girlfriend without having to check with
someone, was relief. I knew things had gone
too far when the word "master" in popped up
in a conversation with a man at work. Very
embarrassing, I never repeated that mistake
again.
Like many women, I married early and
kept busy trying to be the perfect little
wife, balancing motherhood and a career. He
left when my son was five. Raising a boy by
myself was no easy task, but he is turning
out to be a fine young man. Not at all like
his father. Since my son was accepted at the
Air Force academy in Colorado I've had a
little time for myself. So when I met Carl I
threw myself into the relationship. He was
great, he took my son fishing, we visited the
Grand Canyon, skinny dipped in a spring in
New Mexico. One night we sneaked out of the
Winnabago and made love in the desert, under
the stars.
Carl was caring, attentive. All the
girls at the office liked him. He is an
insurance claim manager for a local hospital.
I would get upset when he would spend ten
minutes flirting with one of the girls when
he phoned the office. After a while I
learned that he was just being friendly. He
would come on the line and make me feel like
I was the only woman in the world.
I don't really know when it started.
Maybe I should have seen it all along, but I
was blinded by the attention. It is not that
clear cut, it has become accepted for a woman
to do the things he was asking for. I
haven't lived in a convent for the last 36
yrs. I have seen those sexy scenes in the
movies. I have read the novels, which are
even more graphic than the movies. They all
have the same message, a woman is supposed to
enjoy oral sex. She is supposed to enjoy
being tied up for her lover. I too like the
feeling of helplessness. Its hard to tell
when it really began. Even before he tied my
hands to the head board, he would hold my
wrists while making love. I liked that. I
liked it when my hands were tied. I enjoyed
his games. Somewhere along the line it
became too much. The spankings got harder,
the games tougher, more demanding. I
complained. But he was so sweet after. We
flew to Jamaica for a long weekend, went
horseback riding at sunset, had long slow
evening drives.
He was demanding, but when alone in a
bath, I had to admit to myself that I liked
the attention, the romance of it all. I had
moved in with him by then. He would often
meet me for lunch. We were always together.
My clothes would be laid out for me after my
morning shower. Carl would phone in my order
to the restaurant when he made the
reservations. At times I would meet him at
the restaurant wearing a sheer dress with
nothing underneath. If the Maitre d'
objected to a single woman dressed that way,
Carl would come to my rescue. I must admit,
I enjoyed it, the games, the excitement, and
always my sexuality at the center. It was
quite a rush for a woman used to living on
her own.
Then one night, it was as if I awoke
from a long sleep. We were playing another
of our little games when it happened. I
could see myself, not like in a mirror, but
as if I left my own body and turned around to
look at myself. There I was hanging from the
ceiling, my feet stretching to touch the
floor. My naked body streaked with
perspiration, not from fear but more from
anxiety and the pain in my hands and down my
sides. I heard a voice, a little girls voice
saying words to please him, trying to
anticipate his every desire. Believe me,
when a man has that much control over you,
you will do anything that he wants. That's
when I knew, that I had to leave. Three days
latter I moved out.
I moved back into my townhouse and tried
to get my life back to normal. I established
the old routine again. The 2 mile run then
work to 6:30 or later, the long commute home.
A quick weight watchers, a book or phone
calls to girl friends before bed. I updated
my phone book with the names of new husbands
and children. "Yes, I was awfully busy last
year. No, Carl and I are just friends. No,
I don't want to date, I am quite happy, what
with work and all". And then the long steamy
showers, where you can't even see you own
tears.
I had expected trouble, but Carl was
very good about it all. We talked a few
times during the first week, until I had all
my stuff moved out. Now there was no longer
any reason to call. I was on my summer
morning run through the jogging trail when I
saw him. In summer I try to run at sunrise,
while it is still cool. I saw him far away,
silhouetted by the sun rising over the lake.
He was standing with one foot on the path and
the other on a park bench, arms resting
easily on his raised knee. There is no
logical way to explain how I could recognize
him at that distance, with his face in the
shadows. I never thought that logic could
answer everything. Once you have given
yourself to a man for torture and his
amusement, you share a special bond with him
forever. I believe that I could spot him a
mile away, even at midnight. Just the shape
of his hips, his arrogance, blocking the
running path, causing man and woman alike to
detour off the path for him, was enough to
let me know it was him, way before my eyes
ever could.
I froze in my tracks not knowing what to
do. A clumsy jogger with oversize headphones
bumped into me almost knocking me down. I
heard him mumble "Dumb bitch..." but I said
nothing and fell into step behind him.
Slowly headphones made his way up the path.
I was cursing my self for wearing old shorts
and a year old T shirt over a very un-sexy
sports bra when headphones went face down
into the sidewalk. I almost fell on top of
him when strong hands grabbed me.
Carl got me on my feet then bent over to
headphones. He pulled the headphones back
and said calmly, "Excuse me", then let the
headphones snap sharply back in place. He
took me by my arm and helped me step over the
still stunned man. With out a word we walked
across the wet grass. Finally he said
"Whitney, I love you and want you to come
back". I knew I had power over him, then.
"I can't do it Carl. I can't go back to
that". I stopped and look up into blue eyes.
He smiled, that perfect little smile of
his. "Yes you can. Just let go. Accept
it."
"I want to be protected. At my age I
want security, love..."
He cut me off in mid sentence, "You know
I love you..."
And at that moment, in the long shadows
of the morning, I did know it.
He continued, "...I will always love and
protect you, to my death. You know that. I
only ask that you give yourself to me.
Completely, thoroughly and unconditionally."
"I don't like it when..."
"No!'. No conditions. Completely.
Give yourself to me completely and I will
protect and take care of you forever."
"Or what? Are you going to kidnap me.
Take me to a basement somewhere and rape me?
"You know me better than that,
Elizabeth. I would never force anyone like
that. It is your decision, I want you, but
it has to be completely and unconditionally."
When he used my middle name I new that I
had hurt him. He was a 15 th century knight
in modern world. He would die to protect the
honor of a woman, or work 3 jobs to buy her
jewelry. He only demands that his lady
surrenders herself to him, both in body and
soul. He would never hurt a lady. He like
any knight that throws himself into danger
with no regard to his own safety, expects
others around him to sacrifice. The minor
discomforts of a whipping or the discipline
of weights are to a knight, a minor sacrifice
to prove devotion.
I needed time. "I have to get to work,
my staff meeting..."
"Ok, ok. Our place Friday night. Full
leather. If you don't show up, I will always
love you but never bother you again."
With that he kissed me fully on the
mouth, a hand gently brushing the front of my
shorts. He was past the kiddy swings before
I noticed that my panties were getting wet.
It was just like him. No time given, no
threats. Only a honest statement. There was
no question about it, if I didn't go on
Friday, I would never see him again. He would
never bother or harass me, he is way beyond
that. Should we meet at the mall there would
be a polite "hello" and I would be free of
him. However he also made it clear that
returning would be "complete and
unconditional". Later that morning at work I
e-mailed the travel department to book me on
a flight to Denver on Friday afternoon, just
in case.
I buried myself in my work. The company
never had such a devoted slave. I convinced
myself that Friday was just another work day.
I worked through lunch, not daring to take
time to think. That afternoon, Brian, the
office mail boy came by to drop off the
airline ticket. Brian, tall and lanky, was
working his way through pre-law. His part-
time job delivering the office mail gave him
ample time to practice his first love,
flirting. I find myself always enjoying
trading sexy innuendoes during his brief
visits. He has an interesting affection for
examining a woman's skin. Unlike most men,
his eyes don't roam over your body, but they
take in all of your uncovered skin. He knows
where to look, too. Wrists, ankles, arms,
the neck, all are examined for what, only
Brian knows. Is he looking for tell tale
marks on the side of the wrist, or perhaps a
funny shaped bruise on the lower calf? I for
one, find it awfully vulnerable to be looked
at in that way.
"Hi, Legs. Got your ticket to
Stapelton", he said.
"Brian. You have been looking at my
personal mail again".
"No, Susan in Travel told me", he lied
easily. "You seam awfully cheerful for
someone just going to visit family".
"Cheerful?"
"Your complexion, it's absolutely
radiant all over. Much brighter than you
have been for a long time".
I could feel myself blushing. "It's only
a new powder, that I am trying", I said
hastily. The quick lie had hurt his
feelings. He gave me the tickets and mumbled
a quick good-bye. I hope he meets a good
girl. One day he will make someone a fine
master. That's the moment when I knew I had
to go back.
I left work early and had my hair done.
By the time I got home it was getting dark.
I was hungry, having skipped lunch, but knew
that it was better to have an empty stomach.
I prepared myself as much as any woman can.
My diary is hidden in a place where I know
someone will find it should they search my
room. I took it out and made an entry. It
may be the only clue.
I took care of personal hygiene, checked
the birth control pills and removed my
contacts. I doubt if I would be needing them
for reading. I took a scissors to one of my
newest bras and cut a small slit between the
cups and on the straps. The elastic on both
sides of my bikini bottoms and between the
legs was also carefully nicked. I have
learned that a little preparation can save
you a lot of discomfort if he decides to tare
your underclothes off. I choose a gray skirt
and a loose fitting white blouse. The
important thing is to look good for him while
wearing something comfortable, because you
don't know what will happen. You may be
handcuffed in the same clothes all night, or
immediately stripped. All a girl can do is
try to be comfortable. A dash of perfume on
the neck and I was ready. Too much perfume
can irritate a cut.
I checked my hair again then checked my
stockings another time. It is a short drive
to his house, but I spent a half hour driving
around the neighborhood as I worked my
courage up. By the time I got to his door it
was after 11. As I walked up the field
stones to his door I felt the wetness between
my legs. My body has betrayed me.
I knocked on the door once and counted.
120 seconds later the door opened. He was
wearing black jeans, and a full white linen
shirt, his big, black dog by his side.
Quickly, I moved my feet apart, showing Carl
that I remembered the drill. The rottweiler
sniffed me there then looked away,
disappointed that he would not get to bite
someone. I moved to enter but Carl blocked
the doorway.
"Aren't you going to invite me in?" , I
said sarcastically.
"You are forgetting something."
"What? Oh, yes. I Whitney ____-"... He
cut me off.
"Either you want this, or not. You know
it doesn't come easily. Everyone has to take
a stand, there is no middle ground, no wimpy
sensualist. Either you want it enough to pay
the price or walk away".
He was right. Many float through life
without feeling life. Without approaching
the limits how can you expect enjoy the
highs? Only by sacrifice, and committing
completely and unconditionally can your
existence have meaning.
In a clear, strong voice I said, "I
Whitney Elizabeth ______, give myself to Carl
________, my master".
There are something's that you cant even
tell your psychiatrist, yet it must be said.
The burden must be lifted, I hope you don't
mind.
eof
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