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A straight-back chair had been added to the
room. John left her, pulled it to the center of the room and straddled it, his
arms over the back. With a challenge in his eyes he gave her a one-word
command. “Strip.”

Lauren laughed. “Really?”

“Really.”

She looked again and realized he wasn’t
playing. Feeling more than a little self-conscious, she debated what item to
take off first. He’d already discovered she wore nothing but a thong under the
skirt, so she hooked her thumbs into the elastic and slid it down over her
hips, letting it puddle at her feet. She slipped her sandals off next.

He watched, dispassionate. That unnerved
her a little more. She had a good body. Being in the ER had meant building
muscles. Being in the Army had meant keeping in shape. Maybe she didn’t do it
right? Strippers got men excited all the time. Should she put a little oomph
into it?

Deciding on the side of the tease, she
slowly slid one strap of her bra down her arm, then the other. Reaching behind
her, she undid the clasp then brought the red lace down her arms and off her
body. Unsure where to put it, she dropped it on top of the skirt at her feet.

Hooking her thumbs in the band, she slid
the thong down to her ankles, then off each foot. Again she dropped it to the
floor.

“Fold the clothes and put them on the empty
spot on the dresser behind you.”

Frowning a little, she did as he told her.
Taking orders didn’t feel unnatural to her. As an officer she gave as many as
she took though. These commands, however, had a different tone entirely.
Setting the folded garments on the dresser, she took a good look at the
implements he had laid out there. Despite her misgivings, her pussy moistened
at the sight of all that leather and rubber.

Turning, she tried to figure out how to
stand. This was a new one for her—standing naked before a man who did nothing
but look you over as if he were deciding which might be the most vulnerable
point to attack first. She put her chin out, defiant. Her hands went on her
hips and she turned completely around before him.

“Like what you see? Think you might buy
it?”

“I think it talks too much.”

Her jaw dropped. Talked too much? It? Just
what did he think…?

Before she could answer he stood and
approached her. “I think it needs to learn the value of silence.”

He held up a small ball gag and waited.
Clearly this would be her call. She nodded, still struggling over the pronoun
“it”. Yes, she’d been the first to use the term, but she’d meant her body. He
meant her being. Suddenly being deprived of personhood sent her further into
uncertainty.

John smiled as he stepped behind her to
seat and buckle the rubber gag under her ponytail. Introducing conflict. He’d
thought telling her to strip might be enough. Calling her “it”, however, proved
much more effective. Sliding the strap in, he finished the exposition of the
scene with one last command. “Try to push it out.” When she couldn’t, he
gathered her in tightly, her back to his chest, her arms pinned at her sides.

“Remember you have given yourself to me.
You exist as a separate entity no longer. You are simply an object for me to
use as I see fit. Nothing more.”

Behind the gag, another whimper. Mind-fucks
held incredible power to arouse and over the years John had learned to employ
them to his advantage. Keeping her held tightly, he pushed her toward the bed.
Had she seen the cuffs laid at the foot? Turning her to face him, he didn’t
give her time to react, pushing her so she fell backward onto the soft
mattress.

Before she’d finished her bounce he had one
ankle in his hand, the cuff already slapping around it. He fit the D-ring
through the slit so that the leather encased her ankle and picked up the small
lock that would keep it in place. By that time she’d nearly recovered, getting
her elbows under her to raise her body. John locked the cuff and dropped her
foot.

“Give me your other foot.”

He didn’t give her a choice, and yet he
did. By giving the command he gave her the option to refuse. The reality of the
scene differed from the illusion. He gave the orders, but she was in command.

Slowly she lifted her leg. John quickly
affixed the second cuff, again locking it into place. Then, before she
understood what he was about, he grabbed one of the silver poles resting
against the wall and, using a quick-release catch, hooked it to the second
cuff.

To reach the first one, however, he had to
spread her legs farther apart. Not giving her a choice this time, he simply
pushed them and fastened the other quick-release. Now her legs couldn’t come
together no matter how hard she tried. Her eyes widened in astonishment.

John gave her a moment to try figuring out
what kinds of movement she did have. The one-inch catches that fastened her
cuffs to the spreader bar gave her a little room to maneuver, limited though it
might be. Satisfied with the range, he held out his hand and helped her to
stand.

“Over to the chair,” he instructed.

Clearly she wanted to say something to him.
Her look implied enough that he figured she’d scold him for not putting them on
while she stood next to the chair so she wouldn’t have to duck-waddle her way
over, leaning on him for support.

Of course that was exactly the lesson she
needed to learn from this small exercise. She needed to learn dependence,
specifically, dependence on him. Trust. Not easy for anyone to learn after a
lifetime of messages training the mind to think for itself. Yet, in
power-exchanging, she gave that up. The look alone gave evidence she didn’t
find this an easy task.

Once he had her positioned behind the
chair, he grabbed a poly-fill pillow from the pile at the side of the room and
placed it over the back of the chair, one hand on her back to guide her down
and over it. “Hands on the seat for now,” he told her, making sure the pillow
didn’t slide forward too much. Her feet, firmly planted on the floor behind the
chair, didn’t rise and he nodded. Good. He’d only eyeballed this particular
chair as being the right height for her. Sliding a hand between the pillow and
her waist, he double-checked to be sure she could breathe. Satisfied, he moved
to the next step. Time for another mind-fuck.

He ran his hand around her waist and over
her very exposed buttocks. “You have a very spankable ass, you know. Just
perfect for paddling.”

A sound came from the other end of her bent
body and he realized she tried to talk around the gag. She stopped when he bent
and took her hand in his.

“Tied tightly, I told you. So tight you
couldn’t move.” As he spoke, he slid a black leather cuff around her left
wrist, again fastening it with a small lock. “I am a man of promises, as I
showed you the other night.” He locked the right wrist in its case, then idly
took a small length of clothesline and looped it through the D-ring.

“You will not be able to escape me. You
will wonder just why you let yourself get put in this position.” He placed her
arm alongside the seat and brought the rope down to the chair rung, stretching
her arm out to tie it tightly. Her hand dangled, useless.

Keeping his voice calm and neutral, he
continued. “Part of you will scream with anger at what I do to you. Part of you
will wonder if you’ve gone insane.” He cuffed and tied off the other arm,
pulling her slightly forward in the process. He put his mouth next to her ear. “But
the biggest part of you will let go of all that and force the others to go
along for the ride.”

He stood and walked around behind her
again. “And do you know why? Because deep down inside yourself, so deep even
you don’t look very often, down where you keep your darkest secrets—you want
this.” He ran his hand along her back, watching her shiver. “You like this.” He
paused to pick up the paddle from the dresser. “You need this.”

He simply set the cold surface of the
paddle on her skin, nothing more. She cried out and John knew if he ran a
finger through her slit it would come up soaked with her juices.

“You came from a simple flogging before.
Can you come from a spanking?”

He threw the words down, half in challenge,
half in curiosity. Taking aim, he let the paddle fall.

Lauren nearly came with the first slap of
the paddle against her ass. God, what he did to her. She did like this. She did
want it. No, she needed it. How did he know?

Several times the paddle landed on the
tender flesh, each slap making her gasp, not in pain, but anguish of a
different sort. Her pussy cried out for relief. Unknowingly, so did her voice.

He pulled her up by her ponytail. “Is it
ready to come so soon?” he asked her. An object, he treated her like a toy for
his amusement. She nodded into his fist.

The paddle slapped her ass again, harder.
“You will come only at my command, do you understand?”

She nodded and the paddle descended again.
A war began between her mind and body. She wanted to come, but he demanded her
obedience. Another
thwack
and she cried out again, desperate to hold on.

“I will count from four down to one. On
one, you may come.”

The paddle fell in the same place as the
last time, the sting nearly making her crawl out of her skin. She couldn’t
move. Not a single inch. Between the bar holding her legs apart, the angle at
which she hung over the back of the chair, the ties on her arms and now his
hand holding her head captive by her ponytail, she could only hang suspended at
his commands.

“Four.”

The paddle again on the same spot. She
couldn’t do this. She couldn’t wait. Yet she must.

“Three.”

Her cry, strangled by the gag, came out
garbled. In her head she said, “I can’t. I can’t hold it.” And yet she did, for
she was his to command.

“Two.”

She whimpered, grabbing at the last shreds
of control.

“One. Come for me.”

He felt her body convulse under his hands.
No sounds came from behind the gag now, her orgasm had gone internal. The chair
rocked and he steadied it, watching her pleasure flush her skin. The thrill of
power started a wonderful tension coiling in his groin and he stood back as the
orgasm left her, admiring her ass, now turned a beautiful shade of pink.

Bending to remove the spreader bar, he
helped her put her feet together, inhaling deeply the musky scent that proved
her arousal. Reaching forward, he slipped the knots on the ropes to free her
arms. When her hands pushed her body up a little on the chair, he smiled, glad
to see she wasn’t all that far gone yet. The afternoon was still young and
there was lots more where that came from.

“Stand slowly. Your blood is uneven right
now.”

She rose, and when he caught her eyes, he
saw she glowed. The pink cheeks of her face matched the pink of her ass and she
grinned around the gag. He should get that out. Her jaw wasn’t used to it and
would be tired, if it wasn’t already. Stepping behind her, he unclasped the
buckle then gently removed the gag. A strand of drool came along with it and
she chuckled.

“That’s what you get when I can’t hardly
swallow,” she managed as she wiped the drool on her chin with her hand.

“Nothing I mind. Come, sit for a moment
while I clean up.” She moved to the front of the chair and he hovered beside
her, wanting to be sure she wasn’t going to fall over in a dead faint from the
sudden standing.

“I’m okay,” she reassured him. Then her ass
touched the seat and she flinched.

“Are you sure?”

She gave a low chuckle and eased herself
down, sitting slightly to the side, keeping the side he’d been harshest on up a
little. “I’m fine.”

“Then I’ll just rinse this off.”

John left her to take the gag to the
bathroom and run it under water. This would be her gag. No one else had ever
used it. No one else ever would. Leaving it on the side of the sink to dry, he
returned. She still sat where he’d left her, turning the wrist cuffs around and
around, examining them for every detail.

“What’s the verdict?” he asked.

“With these? Or with that experience?”

“Both.” He picked up the spreader bar and
put it back against the wall, then came forward and knelt before her, untying
the ropes from the chair as they talked.

“Well, these are quite interesting. I
wondered what it would feel like to be fettered, but these are actually pretty
comfortable.” She jiggled her wrists. “And the locks sound like jingle bells!”

“How do you feel about wearing them?”

Her face grew thoughtful and she dropped
her hands to her lap, her gaze still fixed on the locks. “I’m not sure. This is
all so new for me, I’m not sure where the symbolism stops and the practicality
begins.”

John sat back and nodded. “There are a lot
of emotional overtones that come out of BDSM. I have two friends whose wives
are also their slaves. Completely. Total ownership transfer.” He watched to see
if he shocked her and felt some surprise that he didn’t. She simply nodded and waited
for him to continue his thought.