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“Compatibility,” I said. “Some women are intensely aroused by physical pain – something I have no interest in. Ever.” There was a significant pause. Nancy arched an eyebrow but said nothing. “Other women are turned on by humiliation, or bondage… I’d like to know the things you explored with your Frenchman that turned you on the most.”
Nancy thought for a moment – but only a moment. It was clear that she had a very definite understanding of what kind of submission thrilled her.
“I liked being humiliated,” she confessed. Her voice dropped to little more than a whisper. “Phillipe would sometimes take me to clubs and parade me around in front of other Masters. He would lift up my skirt and show them my pussy… or he would tell me to spend the day with no panties on…” her voice drifted into silence and then came back like a shifting breeze. “Those times were incredible,” she said. “It was the whole idea of being on display, being inspected, and being humiliated. It made me feel like… like I was a prize, or a special piece of his property…” Once again Nancy’s voice went quiet. These were dark confessions from a long time ago, but it was clear her memories from the past were still intense.
“And bondage… well actually being restrained, I guess,” Nancy added. “We never did anything with ropes, but I enjoyed being handcuffed. Phillipe did that a lot. He would cuff me to the end of the bed or to a table. One time he handcuffed me kneeling to a park bench at night and ordered me to suck the cocks of every man that came past.”
“And did you?”
Nancy didn’t answer. She didn’t need to. I could see the truth in her eyes and on her face.
“Did you enjoy that experience?” I asked instead.
“Yes.”
We sat for a long time silently staring across the table at each other like two poker players, each reluctant to reveal anything more of what we were thinking. Perhaps Nancy sensed my decision hung on a knife-edge.
“Jericho, I’m not asking for a commitment,” she said at last with an impulsive wrench of emotion. “Just a chance. That’s all.”
“I don’t like relationships.” I warned.
“I don’t want one.”
“And I won’t commit to anything beyond the moment we are in…”
“That’s fine. I accept that.”
“And when I say it’s over, I mean it’s over.”
She nodded her head. “If I fail to please you I will understand.”
“And forget about love.”
“I don’t believe in it either – I just want the experiences without all the relationship trappings. Just the experiences, Jericho,” Nancy put her hand over her heart like she was making a solemn pledge. “I want to come home from work and feel like a woman. I want a strong man who will bend me to his will and remind me what it’s like to be feminine and submissive.”
“It would be purely sexual. You realize that?”
“I do,” Nancy said. “I really do.”
I had a premonition then – some instinctive warning – but I couldn’t tell if it was an omen of impending disaster or delight. My face turned to stone.
“Okay…” I said, and the words from my mouth seemed heavy as lead. “Let’s go back to your apartment.”
Chapter 21.
Nancy had arrived at the restaurant by taxi, so we drove back to her place in my car. She lived just a few minutes out of town, but the journey there seemed to take forever. Nancy sat subdued, staring ahead, her face lit by the glow of the dashboard lights. I caught a glimpse of her from the corner of my eye. She had her hands clasped in her lap, her knees together and there was a smug contented smile soft on her lips.
That bothered me.
“You know these kind of office affairs always end badly. You know that, right?”
Nancy turned her head so that she was looking at me as I flicked my eyes to and from the road.
“This isn’t an office affair, Jericho,” she said. Her voice was calm and in control. “This is an agreement by two people – that’s all. We agree that I will submit to you after work hours, and in return you agree to remind me what it is to feel feminine and dominated.”
I smiled wryly. “That sounds all very practical and sensible,” I commented. “But it’s not the reality, Nancy. When it comes down to it, what you are asking for is an emotional connection – it can’t be otherwise. A good Master is going to make you feel things you have never felt before – adoration, devotion… all those awkward kinds of feelings that women tend to get tangled up in.”
Nancy pursed her lips and hooded her eyes. I felt her hand creep across the space between our seats and rest on my thigh. “I’m not like any other woman, Jericho…”
“Maybe,” I said without any conviction, “but you are like every other submissive – and every other submissive I have trained has developed a strong emotional bond – in fact, if they hadn’t, I would know I wasn’t a good Master,” I said. I flicked her a glance as I slowed for an approaching corner. “Submission and emotion are intertwined. You can’t allow yourself to experience the true satisfaction of submission if you don’t develop emotions for your Master. Trust is the cornerstone of a relationship like this… and trust is a pretty powerful fucking emotion!”
I don’t normally swear in general conversation, but I wanted to impress the point on Nancy. She nodded her head.
“I get that,” she said as if only to appease me. “I understand.” She said nothing else for several minutes. We drove through leafy narrow streets with cars parked on both sides of the road. The evening mist was just starting to roll in from the ocean so that the interior of the car became a dark cocoon, detached from the rest of the world.
I felt Nancy’s fingers slide a little higher up my thigh. When I glanced in her direction her lips were slightly parted and her eyes were slanted with sly sexuality. She was leaning towards me. I could see the soft sheen of her breasts lit by the ghostly glow from the car’s dashboard lights. She had slipped the straps off her shoulders. Her legs had slid apart and the hem of her dress was high up on the milky smoothness of her thigh.
Fuck it!
It was time to make a point.
Clearly words were not going to be enough.
I swung the car violently to the curb and slammed on the brakes. The car lunged to a skidding halt. I saw Nancy jerked forward against the restraint of her seatbelt and a sudden look of panic flashed across her face. I turned off the car’s ignition and turned in my seat until our faces were pressed close.
“Take your dress off.” I hissed.
Nancy flinched. Her eyes went wide and then she frowned in surprise.
“What?”
“You heard me,” I flared, bitter with frustration. “I want you out of that dress. Now.”
For a moment longer, Nancy hesitated, and then slowly she leaned forward and reached for the zip at the back of the dress. She drew it down while I waited impatiently. Nancy’s face was a frown of confusion and trepidation. She arched her hips off the upholstered seat and wiggled the expensive fabric down over her thighs. The dress fell around her feet.
She was wearing a black lace bra and panties. Her breasts were larger than I had imagined, and the lace of her bra was sheer so that I could see the dark shadow of her nipples. They were hard little buttons that pressed through the fabric. Her body was trim a
nd pale. The panties were little more than a wisp of fabric and a thin strap around her hips. Despite myself I felt the pull of sexual temptation – the familiar ache of it.
“Now get out of the car,” I insisted.
“What?”
I glanced through the windshield. There was an intersection about two hundred yards further along the road. I saw cars cruising by in the night, the fumes of their exhaust rising like foggy plumes into the dark night. I pointed.
“Walk up to that corner,” I went on remorselessly, ignoring the wrench of anguish that had fallen like a heavy drape over Nancy’s face. “Stand at the traffic lights. I want you on display. I want you to walk there like a hooker.”
She started to shake her head, maybe in disbelief, maybe an instinctive reaction and the prelude to her refusal. I cut her off.
“Up until now you have controlled everything about this situation,” I thrust my face close to hers, my jaw clenched. “You have manipulated me into accepting to train you, and since that moment you have gone out of your way to be flirtatious and provocative. It ends here!”
Nancy’s expression became petulant. Her eyes snapped with an electric spark of outrage. She peered through the windshield.
“There could be police,” she said. Her voice became querulous, small and whining.
I nodded. “And men might pull over and ask you how much it is to suck their cock. I don’t care. It’s about time you learned that I am your Master and you will submit to me. You will obey me… or you can find another guy.” I let the threat of my words sink in. I had nothing to lose. I could walk away from this right now and not glance back once. If it cost me my job at the radio station, then it was a small price to pay for a life lesson learned. Nancy’s eyes were huge. She was biting her lip and I saw – for the first time – fear in her eyes.
Good.
“I’m not someone you can control, and if you think you can, I will break you, Nancy,” I went on relentlessly. “I will break you wide open and leave you utterly wrecked. You don’t want that to happen. If you defy me again, or if you ever try to influence my actions or emotions, I will shatter you beyond repair. Submitting to me isn’t a game – it’s a test of everything you believe – everything that you are. You surrender completely, or not at all.”
