Conclusion: The Taking of M

I brought her to the bathroom when I felt it was safe for her to walk; sitting her on the rug I ran the water in the shower until it was the perfect temperature.  I quickly stripped out of my clothes and led her into the warm enclosure, standing her under the spray until her hair and body were dripping wet.

I wasn't overly tender with her; I ran a soap-covered washcloth over her body with expediency and precision, and didn't bother shampooing her hair.  My intention was to get the last of the sticky cream off her and move to the next stage of our game, so I wasn't interested in spending more time than necessary in the shower.  She wasn't being much help, though- she moved languidly, like she was in a fog, and I couldn't figure out what the matter was.

I hadn't noticed- though she would tell me, and everyone else who would listen to the story, later- that she had not taken her eyes off my body.  I was used to being naked in the house, as well as in front of fairly large groups of people in the club, and thought nothing of it.  It rarely registered in my awareness when people looked at me, because it happened all the time.  The years since haven't been as kind to me as I'd like, but in those days I had the sleek, muscled form of a horseback rider and martial artist, with a small waist and full hips that I wasn't as appreciative of as some of the men at the club. It was a nice enough form, I suppose, though I would have been loathe to say such a thing.

I'd forgotten that she hadn't seen me fully undressed yet.. that I was likely the first woman she'd been naked with outside of a locker room situation (and the club, of course).

Part Three: The Taking of M..

I stood and walked over to S, intentionally putting a little extra sway in my hips, immediately noticing the death grip he had on his cock.  Straddling him, I wrapped my own hand around it and rested my forehead against his.

Close?

Mhm.

May I help you, sir?

He shifted his head and ran his tongue over one side of my jaw, licking M's juices off my skin.  What did you have in mind?

I thought I would suck you off, sir.  If you'd like that.

His tongue trailed up the other side of my jaw, and I shuddered in response.  Do you think it would be appropriate for your sub to see you on your knees in front of me?

I tilted my head so he could continue down my neck.  I don't think it quite lines up otherwise, sir.. and we haven't finished installing the gravity boots.

He laughed, his head leaning back against the top of the chair.  His smile didn't fade as his eyes shifted from amusement to.. something else, and I felt myself getting even more aroused.

These are your old pants, right? 

I glanced down to double-check that I was wearing my older pair of riding breeches. Correct, sir.

His hands moved before I realized it, tearing a hole along the seam between my legs, and his fingers pushed easily into the opening, testing my wetness.

He needn't have bothered.

Part Two: The Taking of M..

If I were asked, and told to be completely honest, I would freely admit that I was not a fan of D.  I knew him well from the club, had seen (and personally experienced) his discipline  methods, and had been loaned out to him on one or two occasions before S decided it was a waste of my time and training.  He was boorish and crass, lacking not only in gentility but also in the 'sexual prowess' area.  I felt almost sorry for M, but it was not my place to judge such things, and perhaps she saw something in him I couldn't.

Knowing what I did about D, however, I decided to use one of my most valuable tools in the (hopefully) inevitable breaking of M.

I started M's morning off with a long soak in the tub while I sat cross-legged on the rug nearby, reading the most recent book to catch S's fancy.  When she'd finished, I brought her to the playroom where S was waiting, one leg slung casually over the arm of his chair, dress shirt unbuttoned. 

Part One: The Taking of M

At the risk of alienating a portion of my readership, or (worse!) being accused of painting with entirely too broad of a brush, I'm going to start sharing some of my thoughts on the D/s world.  Please note that these are my opinions/experiences only, and aren't meant to offend/upset anyone.  Also note that as I reveal more of my past history, people will be referred to only by their first initial (to protect the very, very, very guilty. ;) ).

The following is part one of an autobiographical story I'll playfully call The Taking of M; it deals with my first foray into switching roles and training another (female) sub.  Part two will follow shortly.. though it may hasten the posting if you'd care to drop a comment or two encouraging me.  ;)


* * * * * *

I've always been on record as not being a fan of dommes.  They always seem to be.. trying too hard, I suppose, and I thought it may be the result of them focusing entirely too much on the humiliation aspect.  The subs I encountered who were in service to dommes always had this weird look to them, something I hated seeing and that didn't belong in a true D/s relationship. Not fear, but.. apprehension?  Confusion?  Regardless, I firmly believe that oftentimes they miss out on what true submission really is because they're too busy going through the motions of what they think a dominant should be, and I hated being 'loaned out' to them despite my eagerness to have other women to play with.

When I had to step into that role (I am capable of switching when necessary/ordered to do so), I always took my methodology more from the dom manual, particularly the psychological aspects of it.  Few things could bring me more pleasure than watching my little plaything finally break.. if I had the interest in it, there's no doubt I would make a dangerous as hell domme in my own right.

Luckily I don't have the interest.  :)

I hadn't been in the scene long- perhaps a year and a half- when I was first called on to help with the training of a new sub.  I've said before that I was certainly not known as the most obedient sub, but my dom (S) *was* well known for the success of his training methods, so despite my youth and occasional issues with manners, it was agreed that I was best suited for the task.