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“In here now,” he barked at me.
I scuttled after him and he practically slammed the door behind me. We were facing each other in the middle of the room. He looked pissed off. God, what had I done?
“Down!”
I dropped down on my knees. I had to hear him out and find out what was bugging him. Appearing meek did not stop me feeling anxious about his mood.
“How many times did I say you should go to the gym, Gemma?”
I did not cross swords with that tone of voice. “Three, sir,” I said quietly.
“How many times did you go?”
Oh, this was what had pissed him off!
“Two. Sir” I kept my voice low.
“If I give you an instruction you obey it. Your ID pass was only swiped twice. Why didn’t you go three times?”
He had checked up on me, monitoring my activities. The realisation freaked me out slightly.
“I had an unexpected evening out with friends - a birthday pub crawl. I didn’t know about it until yesterday, sir,” I added cautiously.
“Pub crawl? You got drunk instead of doing what I requested?” He said sharply.
“I don’t see my friends often....” I began to sa
y.
“I don’t want excuses,” he barked at me. “This isn’t about your social life. I work out every day, regardless of the night before, or how many engagements I have. I make the time because it’s important. We fuck for an hour and you’re out of energy, it is not long enough for me. Get it! If you’ve got the energy to wriggle your hips, you can find some time to tone your muscles as well.”
Hot tears leaked out of my eyes. I felt disappointed we had failed to communicate properly and he saw my disobedience as an act of defiance. Within me, and counter to my outward demeanour, was anger. He had no control over my social life and he had not suggested he ever would. As his submissive, I would never consent to such a proposal. I certainly never had with his predecessors.
“You never made this clear, sir. Yes, I didn’t go three times though I intended too. I prioritised my personal life above your request and, well, I thought a night out was good exercise…” My voice petered out. Now I was starting to sound pathetic to my own ears. I could have asked him, before I went out, the purpose of my gym visits. I could have negotiated the arrangement. The key to our relationship was communication and I circumvented it to have my fun.
Suddenly, I was crying proper, the annoyance with him and myself readily turned to tears. The counterpoint of emotions fed each other. Jason took a deep breath in. He reached down and stroked my hair. The action made my tears cease as if he had wiped my eyes dry.
“I should have been more forthcoming with the reason why, Gemma, but I expect you do to as you’re told. You gave me your body, your sexual being, and I want it devoted to me, trained to please me. I won’t ask you to give up your night life, but you have to plan it better and take responsibility for it,” his voice was calmer. His displeasure abated by my contriteness. Walking to the other side of the desk, he sat down.
The moment of silence hovered in the air and I knew what I had to ask. It was an aspect of our relationship that needed to be tested and brought out into the open. I was his to control and he expected me to carry out his instructions without wavering or deviation. I was probably out of practice with the exacting demands of a dominant and there was one course of action that would help focus towards him and away from me. I slid forward and stuck my bottom up high, my fingers woven together and my head bowed to the floor - a position of total acquiescence and devotion.
“Sir. I request you punish me, sir.” I spoke the words to the carpet but they clear for him to hear.
“I will punish you now, Gemma. Take your clothes off,” he spoke with no malice, like a master to their awaiting slave. An instruction to be carried out instantly.
I stood up unsteadily and undressed, not seductively like Saturday. I did not think the stripper routine was going to help placate his annoyance with me. My first punishment and I pushed back thoughts of previous punishments with other men. I had to judge Jason as a new experience and not let memories cloud today.
Of all the aspects of my life as a submissive, it was disciplining me that caused the greatest struggle. Something I could not tell my family or friends about ever. Unlike the erotic spanking, the bondage and the sex toys, to offer oneself for punishment was not about pleasure or fun. It was simply an act of submitting to his wishes, his desires and above all else his control. I understood he wanted to shape me into the kind of woman he sought as a companion to his dominant nature. He would give me his rules and protocols, whether a few or many it did not matter, I was expected to comply with them. I had not and he had made it clear, during our initial conversation about how we should proceed with our relationship, that he would punish me if I disobeyed his requests. I consolidated myself by knowing his disciplining would clear the air.
I knelt back down while Jason lowered the window blinds. The evening sunlight had diminished considerably and room had gone darker, more sinister.
“Come stand by the wall here,” he indicated a bare stretch of wall behind his desk.
I stepped over as he took off his jacket and tie, then rolled up his sleeves.
“Stand here, back against the wall, your legs apart. More, Gemma. Good.”
I complied with all his demands without looking at him. Instead I stared at the ceiling, tears drying on my face.
