Waiting

The Sales Report

The end of the financial year is approaching and the dreaded bean-counters are expecting information upon information upon information! As ever with this onslaught all staff have to work together to get the required content and to meet the deadline.

All very stressful but, on the positive side, it creates a kind of siege mentality and bring us all together.

We have not worked together before but we are certainly aware of each other – the office is open plan and everyone is visible and can be seen working away. A history of exchanged glances, the occasional nod and mouthing of Hi combined with respectful distancing between us when moving around the kitchen which is set back away from the main open office.

To be honest I had suspected that there was a fairly long-standing undercurrent between us as increasingly eye contact has been being held for much longer than necessary. Exciting to be honest, with increasing interest shown between us, nothing specific but something is there.

Kitchen conversations lingered, their scope stretching away from work topics into more personal matters, nothing specific that indicated what was to come, but a burgeoning contact network.

Coffee became an essential way of chatting and developing things.

I was always fascinated by your hair, which when down was a delight to behold, and when up an absolute delight with more than a hint of D/s overtones. This was accompanied by my fascination with your body: your full and exciting boobs, lovely waist and stunning hips that I had dreamt of holding. PLEASE don’t get me started on your bottom which screams across the office that it needs serious attention, massaging and firm spanking. When you get up from your desk and move across the office I cannot take my eyes off it.

And finally, your legs which are perfect and grab my attention while pushing up my blood pressure to previously unknown heights. I swear that you walk in a deliberately provocative way, swaying your hips just ever-so slightly, which grabs my attention every time but which could be dismissed by onlookers and fellow colleagues and just being in my mind.

Your smile draws me in, every time.

Do you know what you are doing?

Do you know what my tastes are?

Sooner or later we will be finding out.
The pressure around completing the Sales Report has certainly intensified in the last few days, certainly because the stiff collars upstairs want to see some much needed traction as they frequently say.

Only a person made of steel could fail to recognise a clear change in the atmosphere in the office: communication which was until very recently open and humorous (with a nice edge of banter!) amongst and between the various teams has been replaced with a more formal air and a more direct way of interacting as the pressure builds.

I have also noticed a change in your demeanour: I perceive that your dress sense has changed in a subtle and very alluring way. Your walk across the office floor has become more pronounced, with an even more subtle and measured hip swing. Not a dramatic change so that everyone would see but I have definitely picked this up. The way you move draws my attention increasingly to your hips, which now really need to have my hands on them. Your legs are even more shapely and formed, ankles, calves and the part of your thighs that I can see appear toned and smooth, showing them off brilliantly but just inside the limit where everyone would notice.

The eye contact across the room has also intensified: those quick glances that hold our mutual gaze just long enough to be outside the casual contact that colleagues might have been replaced by a longer, far more intense that signifies something more than just polite eye football.

The exchanges between us in the kitchen have also changed: polite chatter is still there but when I went to get the milk from the fridge you were, well, just too close and we bumped into each other. Amazingly the work colleagues in the room at the time did not see this as anything other than a simple accident and brushed it off their memories as such.

That was no accident.

That had been building up for some time, as well you knew it had been.

Did you know what you were doing? I think so.

Did you know that it was a risk but a risk worth taking? I think so.

Was it an important step along a journey that we both want? I know so.

Your perfume was intoxicating, the feel of your shoulders exciting and the closeness of your hips exhilarating.

We walked back to our respective desks and exchanged a long glance, much longer than before.

A connection had been made.

Tomorrow there is a big meeting about the progress on the Sales Report.
 Always good to get in bright and early on a day when you know something big is happening. I don’t like being surprised.

People drift into work, taking up their positions behind their desks and chatting about meaningless stuff, what the meeting is all about etc. All a bit mundane and boring really.

Then the whole atmosphere changes and things get exciting, certainly this gets my attention.

You walk up the stairs and into the room, cutting a path between colleagues who are mingling about, those hips and bottom swaying in almost a hypnotic way, but hypnotic only to me.

We exchange a quick glance, mouth a Good Morning across the space between us and then we break off and go about a quick tidy up ready for the day to start.

There is a buzz of almost excitement (well almost, this is work after all) as the Sales Director comes into the room and casually announces that all of the staff are to go to a nearby hotel where a large conference room has been booked for everyone to work in groups to finalise the content of the Report: obviously the current approach that we are using does not give her what she wants, so it’s time to start cracking the whip a little.

A thought enters my mind about a paddle, her bottom and cries of pleasure, nipple clamps and hair pulling but then quickly disappears again.

Free Lunch I’m thinking, excellent! All staff are to go to this event except for a skeleton staff remaining behind to answer customer calls and deal with any emergencies, and the skeleton staff to stay behind are ……………………..

I look across at you as our names are called out and I smile inwardly. Only two of us staying behind, everyone else will be leaving for the day and returning tomorrow morning.

There is then a mad rush of people gathering their belongings and papers and heading off down the stairs, a bit of a whirlwind of activity and flapping of coats. It is a free Lunch after all.

Suddenly silence descends and we look across at each other. I shrug my shoulders and you do the same, but then the whole mood in the room shifts as you casually put your pen in your mouth and move it in and out, very slowly.

Things will never be the same again, of that I am certain.

Naughty Girl, such a blatant thing to do, something that will get you into all sorts of trouble.

I pick up my cup and head into the Kitchen, beckoning you to follow me: you collect your cup, adjust your top and nonchalantly walk across the room, knowing that what is about to happen is definitely NOT just a coffee.

Our collective anticipation is off the Anticipation Scale, if that could be measured.

I fill the kettle and switch it on ……………………………..
 You stroll into the kitchen, slightly nervous and a little apprehensive, which adds to the excitement of the scenario.

Your coffee is ready and I hand it to you as you lean against the worktop. You hair looks so soft and inviting to the touch: our eyes lock together as we chat about mundane things, both of us knowing that something momentous is about to happen.

I move towards you and take the cup from your hands and put it down on the worktop, standing directly in front of you, telling you that you have been driving me to distraction lately and that you need to be put in your place.

I kiss you lightly on the lips and hold your hips, drawing you into me, closely and carefully.

You melt into me.

I run my fingers through your hair and feel its softness and then I hold it and pull your head back so that I can kiss your throat, telling you very clearly that you are mine and mine alone.

You nod.

I lift up your top and take it off, your hair cascades down around you face and I kiss you again, feeling the warm flesh of your tummy and shoulders. Your black bra is lacy, soft and cannot hide the stiffness of your nipples, which I trace with my fingertips.

I unzip your smart office trousers expecting to find a matching pair of panties which I am pleased to see do match and reflect your excellent taste in lingerie.

Your Sir is pleased, very pleased.

I take your trousers off and explore your wetness through your panties: they are very damp now and you moan softly as I tease you, slowly and carefully.

I put my hands on your throat and look deep into your eyes and tell you that whatever I want from now on, you will willingly and unquestioningly give to me.

You nod.

I turn you around, and bend you over the worktop, having already found the wooden spatula from the cutlery draw and placed it nearby. Time for your panties to come off which I keep, you will NOT be getting them back unless I decide you can.

I pull you out so that you are still leaning on the worktop but so that I can fully see your gorgeous legs and bottom. It is time that you understood your position and place.

I only like numbers that end in a 5 or a 0: time for 10 spanks with the spatula, starting out gently and mildly but with increasing hardness and effort. Strokes 1 and 2 and timid, tepid affairs but by the time 4 and 5 land your bottom is starting to know this is a serious process, feeling warm and getting deliciously pink. 7 and 8 really grab your attention and you wriggle as 9 and 10 cement your obedience, willingness and commitment to your Sir.

I undress quickly and enter you, your warmth and wetness making it very easy for me. I pull your hair and start slowly fucking you, leaning forward to tease and squeeze your nipples making you moan and writhe to meet my thrusts. I tease your clit as I increase the force of my thrusts, edging you close to your orgasm. I tell you that you will ask my permission to cum and that you will NOT do so unless I give it.

You ask for this but I withhold permission until you are almost bursting to do so: you will learn that control and submission is mine to manage and deliver. I let you cum which you do so noisily and passionately.

I tell you to get dressed and assure you that today will be a long day, that I am not finished with you and that your panties are mine to keep until I am ready to return them to you. You get dressed and make us both a fresh drink while I tell you that at a time that I decide today you will be ordered to give me a blow job and that you will be fucked again if I decide that your good, obedient and dedicated behaviour deserves it.

We kiss and I hold your throat, reminding you of your place and your submission.

The phone rings on your desk and I tell you to go and answer it.

Quickly. With purpose.

Office Meeting

Naked.

I like you naked. Your body is amazing.

You come into my Office and I tell you to shut the door.

I stand in front of you and kiss you lightly on the lips, brushing my hands through your hair and than putting my finger against your lips, making it clear that you are to remain quiet.

I remove your skirt, folding it neatly and putting it on my desk. I tell you to take off your top and to fold it and put it on top of your skirt.

You are beautiful.

I sit back in my chair and I tell you to take off your bra which you do. Slowly.

Your nipples are hard and are in need of my attention. It is a pity that they will have to wait a while.

I kiss the front of your panties and feel their softness against my fingers, teasing and exploring your softness and wetness through their fabric.

I tell you firmly NOT to move as I move my fingers inside your panties and gently explore you, your softness, your wetness and warmth.

Very nice indeed.

You shudder and writhe and I again remind you to be both quiet and still.

I take your panties off and gently open your legs to allow me to explore you further. You are trying to remain very still now, making sure that you do not annoy or irritate me. You know that you will need my permission to cum, and if I am irritated that will be a long time coming.

I start to kiss and lick your nipples which respond quickly, becoming hard and responsive to my touch.

No noise or sound, I remind you. Unless I say that you can.

My fingers are exploring your wetness and gently moving in and out of your warm pussy as you push against them.

Time for you to sit on my lap: I get undressed and tell you to straddle me, which you willingly do. I fit inside you perfectly, as you move up and down on my lap with me kissing and licking your nipples.

You are desperate to cum and ask me for my permission which I do not give: instead I tell you to get off my lap, turn around and lay face down on my desk so that I can enjoy my submissive from behind.

I fuck you from behind, putting my hands under you so that I can still play and tease your nipples. Firm strokes and constant attention to your nipples puts you on the edge again: you ask me again for permission to cum this time, I approve and you cum, whimpering your thanks as your body arches upwards to meet my thrusts.

After the waves of pleasure have subsided I tell you that tonight your TOTAL focus will be to satisfy me in any way that I decide,

I tell you to get dressed but without your panties which I will be keeping this afternoon.

We kiss, I put my finger in your mouth, look you in the eyes and tell you that you are mine.

I tell you to return to your desk and await my further instructions.

Bathtime Tonight

I run you a nice warm bath and put lots and lots of Badedas lotion into the warm water:The smell of the soap is very inviting and you watch as the bath fills up. I undress you slowly, enjoying the sensation of taking off the clothes that I had approved earlier and carefully exploring your body,kissing your nipples and stroking your tummy.

I tell you to put your hair up and I kiss you lightly on your lips before helping you into the warm relaxing water.

I leave you to soak and relax for a while as I get a nice chilled glass of wine for you to drink while the bubbles go to work on your gorgeous body.

I wash your back with a very soft sponge as you sit forward and then use the sponge on your breasts, (tummy and legs, making sure that all parts of them have had my attention.

I leave you to soak for a little while longer and top up the water to keep it warm. Another top up of your glass follows.

I decide when you are to get out of the bath and I help you out, carefully placing you on the bath mat and then use a very soft towel to dry you thoroughly and carefully. 

I then tell you to get into bed and lay on your tummy and wait for your Sir to join you.

I introduce you to my favourite crop, tapping him around the edge of your naked body.

You lay there, very still, tingling in anticipation.

I drape my crop slowly over your back and bottom gently swatting and teasing you once every few seconds. I then up the pressure by starting to swat your gorgeous bottom a little harder until it is nice and warm, tingling with heat and anticipation.

You moan and whimper with a heady mixture of pleasure and pain.

I get out from my bag a wand and tell you to spread your legs. I slip the wand between your legs and direct its strong vibration against your clit.

You beg me to let you cum but deep down you know this is a futile and pointless request.

Sir decides when this will be. Only Sir.

I then get on top of you and slide into you, as I whisper in your ear, reminding you that you belong to me. I thrust in and out, holding your wrists down as you are ordered to lift your ass taking me deep inside your wet pussy.

Faster and harder, you beg for permission to cum and finally I allow this, and you feel the orgasm rise from your pussy through your entire body.

You feel me cum inside you and feel the satisfaction that only a submissive can get from satisfying her Dom, using her body for his pleasure.

Lateness

You arrive at the hotel, flustered and hot, knowing that you are late.

Sir hates lateness as he says it shows a lack of respect and a far too casual attitude.

A poor attitude.

An attitude of disobedience and a lack of respect.

You make your way up to the room. Why does the lift seem to take an eternity? Your pulse races and your nerves jangle.

It is now a real sense of urgency to dress in the outfit that I have chosen for you.

Hopefully making up for lost time will calm the situation.

Unlikely.

You get changes and I drag a chair to the window so that I can see you clearly.

I place you over the chair and punish you for your lateness: ten firm spanks with my palm, making your bottom glow and become a delightful pink, marking my presence and importance.

Any shyness or reservation has instantly evaporated and your sole focus now is to please your Sir

I pull your hair backwards and remind you of your submission.

I tell you that you now need to make amends for your atrocious attitude and behaviour.

You begin by turning around and …………………..

Afternoon Tea at The Ritz London

It really is time that Sir treated you; after all you have been a diligent and dutiful submissive and you have been attentive to my needs.

That said this is no time to get comfortable, to relax and ease off your focus and take Sir for granted: you know very well what that will result in and why you really need to keep upping your game.

I have booked traditional afternoon tea at The Ritz London, a stunning hotel full of tradition, quality and service and exactly the place for me to show off what is mine. I know you will look fantastic and that you will not let your Sir down.

Will you.

We get the Tube from Kings Cross St. Pancras and head off to Knightsbridge on the Piccadilly Line as first I will be buying you a very nice and exclusive bra and panties set which you will be modelling for me when we get back to our hotel suite. The underground is as busy as ever with people jostling for position, all scurrying around getting to where they need to be as quickly as possible: very reminiscent of the hustle and bustle of New York.

We manage to get into the carriage, no mean feat given that the train is very full and we find ourselves at the end of the compartment, very close together. I can smell your perfume and feel your breath on my cheek as we face each other in the confined space.

I kiss you lightly on your lips and small your shampoo on your gorgeous hair, the hair I had been playing with last night when we had a really intense scene. I put my hands around your waist and position you with your back against the side of the carriage and you are standing slightly to my right hand side, making your body available to me as it should always be.

The train sets off, rumbling along the track with everyone moving in synch with the rises and falls of the rails.

I gently brush the back of my hand against the front of your nice tight black trousers and this gets your immediate attention: it is always essential that you respond to my touch and presence in whatever place we might be. You take a sharp intake of breath as my hand carefully undoes the zip and my finger brushes the fine texture of your panties. I feel the smoothness of you and you respond, your breath getting more erratic as I explore.

First just tracing the outline of your panties and then probing deeper, putting my finger gently inside them, feeling your warmth and wetness. You are not able to move, nor are you able to make any sound as I have whispered in your ear that this is not allowed. I tenderly tease your clit and feel that growing wetness that I seek, confirming that my submissive is always available, as you know you must be.

I am so tempted to make you cum right there and then, but I know that is what you would like, and need, so I refrain, carefully zipping up your trousers. After calling at Leicester Square the train empties and we have some space during the short hop to Knightsbridge and Harrods. Walking down the platform, holding hands we are totally connected, Sir and his submissive.

Harrods is a treasure trove of excellent items and I choose a gorgeous Dora Larsen Kiran bra and panties set which I know you will look stunning in when we go to Dinner later. I kiss your hair as we wait while the sale is processed and I lightly squeeze your hand in affirmation of your role.

I know that you are still warm and wet from the Tube and whisper in your ear that I know this and that being in that frame of mind, at my will, is central to your role. You fully agree.

Leaving Harrods we make our way back to the Underground for the short trip to Green Park and The Ritz where tea awaits.

Afternoon Tea is excellent, made even better by knowing that you were still warm and aroused by both the previous train ride and the purchase of your new underwear. You look stunning, my selection of your clothes and shoes were highly appropriate and you look every inch totally desirable.

And mine.

Leaving The Ritz, the question is, however, what would I do to you on the train ride back to Kings Cross St Pancras?

Let me see ………………………………………….

Are You Sorry?

That was NOT a good thing for you to do, was it?

When I take you out for Dinner I expect, as an absolute minimum, that you follow The Rules and that you fully always meet my expectations.

Perhaps you might like to explain the following to me, just so that I can understand what is going on in your mind.

Number 1: why were you disrespectful to your Sir at the restaurant by insisting that you were to choose your food, when you KNOW your place is for me to do that for you?

Number 2: despite me being very clear that you were to wear the Simone Perele set that I purchased for you, at considerable expense I might add, WHY when I undressed you do I find that you have disobeyed me and decided to wear something else?

Nothing to say?

I have no time for this level of disrespect and this needs to be resolved now.

I tell you to stand very still, naked, unsupported apart from your heels and for your head to be bowed. You are NOT to look in my direction unless I give you permission to do so.

I leave you there for 10 minutes, which seems like an eternity as your nervousness rises.

I stand behind you, forming your hair into a tail and pulling your head backwards into me, tilting your head as a sign of my control and importance, whispering in your ear that your punishment is only just beginning.

Put these on as I pass you a set of nipple clamps, and make sure that they are tight: I want your nipples to be sensitive and to remind you later that you have been punished. I will decide when they are to be taken off, not you.

You are starting to get wet now, the warmth of this is spreading through your pussy and you know that I will be aware of this.

I tell you to stand with your legs two feet apart and to focus upon your bottom. From nowhere you feel the gentle but determined pressure as I start to insert one of your plugs, which always focuses your mind.

Once carefully in place I turn to face you and gently put my hands around your throat, squeezing lightly at first and then increasing the pressure and then releasing it again while telling you to think about your misbehaviour and to consider how you might explain this to me. All you can mutter is that you will not do it again.

Not good enough, not anywhere near good enough.

Reaching down I feel your warmth and how wet you have become, your focus torn between your sensitive nipples, the fullness and pressure from the plug and my teasing fingers on your clit.

You are told to get on your knees and look up at me, you are starting to look anxious now, wondering what will come next.

What atonement should you offer me?

Before you can say anything I tell you to stand up and walk over to the dining room table and bend over it and to wait for me. I leave you there for a further 10 minutes, which seems like an eternity for you. I return with a new, very hard and rigid wooden paddle which I run across your bottom and down your legs, first on the outside and then on the inside, just to emphasise my position of authority and control.

The first spank catches you by surprise and you gasp out loud, the second is slightly harder, as is each subsequent spank up until the fifth, after which the intensity dies down and by number 10 the strike is back to the first. I turn you onto your back and begin to tease you with my fingers, exploring your wetness and the very firm and clearly visible clit which is begging for attention.

You desperately want to cum but, of course, this will not be allowed. Not until I decide to allow this.

Five times you ask for permission, but this is never granted.

I tease you with my fingers and eat you, teasing your clit with the very tip of my tongue, very faintly forcing you to concentrate your mind on me totally and exactly.

Are you sorry for your atrocious behaviour sub? Will there be any repeat of this shocking attitude and disrespect? Of course you say that you will reframe and refocus your attention, pleading to be allowed to cum.

Being a kind and compassionate Dom I let you come, making you say that you are sorry, very respectful and that this will not happen again.

You know that this is not over as I remove your plug but leave your nipple clamps on. I tell you to deliver the best blow job that you have EVER done and I might take the clamps off.

You had better be good then, hadn’t you?

Mr C

Mr C is tender and kind, cool and measured and can always be relied upon.

Mr C is very attentive, knowing when to be firm, harsh even, strict, controlling, playful at times, provocative, exciting and encouraging you to try harder, to redouble your effort, to reshape and refresh your attitude, approach, dedication and submission.

Mr C is a motivational force for you: just the sight of him starts to make you tremble a little, get your brain whirring from a neutral gear into a high performing gear, your blood pressure rises, your pulse starts to race, your pupils dilate, your nipples awaken from a sluggish state into their firm and hard form that indicates your arousal.

Mr C makes you warm, wet and very willing.

Mr C likes to feel your ankles, legs, thighs, your gorgeous bottom, the small of your back, your shoulders, knees, pussy, tummy, nipples, and throat. All done lovingly and with extreme care.

Mr C especially likes your gorgeous bottom and superb legs. Especially those.

Mr C is joined by your Sir on a regular basis and together they form a very strong and commanding presence, something that you enjoy, treasure and respect in equal measure.

You, Sir and Mr C.

The thought of Mr C and Sir together makes your panties come alive.

You adore Mr C, being very careful to respect  him. After all, you wouldn’t want to be punished for not being diligent, would you?

Sir likes Mr C very much, Sir puts a lot of faith in Mr C’s ability to shape and form your submission.

Sir is very happy with Mr C being part of the connection and dynamic, especially when you bring Mr C to sir for his use.

Mr C is Sir’s Number One favourite crop, dedicated to driving your submission and dedication to Sir. You enjoy getting Mr C from the box that Sir uses for his toys and bring him to Sir for your play and punishment. You like delivering Mr C to Sir with him in your mouth.

Mr C is keen to be with you today as you have been disobedient and disrespectful.

The question is, how bad have you been and will Mr C be angry or playful on this occasion?

Time to find out ………………..

That’s not allowed, and you know it.

Yes, you’re right, it’s Saturday but that is no reason to want to wear those comfortable, big, bland panties. That’s not allowed, and you know it.

It is nice to wear jeans, yes, you are quite right. And yes, they look good on you. But I want you in that dress with those shoes. Being petulant and bratty because of that? That’s not allowed, and you know it.

Yes, the pizza does look and smell good, but I have not given you permission to choose that from the menu. Making a decision like that in my presence? That’s not allowed, and you know it.

I love to hear your views and opinions on things, you are a very clever and articulate girl, but challenging me in public about my decisions? That’s not allowed, and you know it.

Sending Sir pictures every day, both as part of a regular routine and when I specifically order them, is an essential part of The Rules. To not send them in the format that I want them? That’s not allowed, and you know it.

Being distracted when I contact you? Not having Sir at the forefront of your focus at all times? That’s not allowed, and you know it.

Wanting to play when I have not given permission to do so? That’s not allowed, and you know it.

Refusing to present yourself for your punishment and not bringing me the paddle? That’s not allowed, and you know it.

Why did you buy that top when you were unsure about whether or not I would like it? That’s not allowed, and you know it.

It’s all about The Rules and following them, especially when we had discussed them and when I had decided on their final format.

Questioning The Rules? That’s not allowed, and you know it.

Going out to Dinner

Your dancing eyes and beautiful complexion are framed by the smoothness and softness of your hair, which I have to fight myself with to stop me from running my fingers through it.

Permanently.

It was a surprise when I gave you your present earlier, a token of Sir’s affection for your diligent and focused attention earlier in the week. Whilst I expect such devotion as a matter of course, part of the dynamic and connection that I had explicitly put down in The Rules, I like to spoil my sub from time to time. You look fantastic in the dark blue matching bra and panties that I had spent a lot of time researching and then buying: only your Sir would know what lay beneath your long flowing dress as we walked along the pavement to the restaurant.

The venue was busy but not overly so and I got us a nice table by the window where we could watch the world go by and do some people-watching, always good fun. This involved, as ever, trying to identify people in the lifestyle and trying then to guess their particular role or preferences. Never an exact science but we might possibly get it right on occasion!

The waiter brought the menu and we both looked at it over a freshly corked bottle of white wine and you then made eye contact as if to ask the question that you knew you had to ask: “Am I allowed to choose my meal or are you to do it for me Sir?” My look told you what you needed to know: that I would choose for you and you would respect my choice.

Selections made we sat back and waited for the food to arrive. I reflected upon how you had dressed to please me and how your attention flitted between assessing the people passing by as part of our little game and focusing upon your Sir.

Just the way it should be, and needs to be. Always.

We chatted and exchanged knowing looks, your hair reflecting the light in the restaurant with me aching to touch it, which I will do later.

The food was good, well-cooked and visually appealing, all of the qualities in a restaurant befitting our presence. We identified a number of possible devotees to the lifestyle as they passed before us on the pavement, chuckling at our diagnosis of the potential Doms, subs, slaves and pets as they passed us by.

Dessert came: I decided that it was time to show you that, although this was a public place, you are Owned and that you should be respectful. I had ordered you ice cream as a treat and then carefully spooned the delicious cold delight onto your spoon and fed it to you. Before each spoonful you were told to ask politely for it with the statement “Please may I have another spoonful, Sir?”

After Dinner coffee was ordered, I had a tea, but I refused you the chocolate treat that came with them.

We left, hand in hand, walking back to home, both of us eager for the intimacy that was to come and the power exchange that signifies our beautiful connection.

The Train Journey

It was one of those, not rainy all-day days, but a day when the grey sky had somehow descended down to the pavement and the drizzle just clung onto the people making their way around the capital, running errands, venturing out to meet important people, fetching Lunch or just idling around with no purpose.

A grey day which shows no sign of the path of the sun: as grey at 8am as it would be at 6pm, the sun not able to penetrate the silver shroud over London.

For us, the grey vista served only to sharpen and emphasise our feelings and connection: similarly all the hustle and bustle of the city barely touched us as we walked confidently from our overnight hotel stop (St Pancras Renaissance) to the tube, a short hop to Victoria Station to catch our train to Brighton.  The famous London Underground was being brought back to life after Covid and had that strange feeling of damp air warmed by the regular trains running along those historic lines.

The Tube was alive with the hum drum of people and movement but we seemed to not notice them.

I decided that we would stand together on the short ride to Victoria Station, making way for other travellers to use the seats in the carriage. This meant that we were at the end of the carriage and holding onto the straps hanging from the ceiling with our bags at our feet. I used my left hand to grip the strap and you used your left hand to grip yours.

 Only 4 stops on the tube and an opportunity for some exciting close contact in public, our bodies pressed together as we swayed in unison, meeting the bends and rises and falls as the carriages make their way along the route. I unzipped your jacket and put my right hand inside, tracing the smooth outline of your body, feeling its warmth as you pressed into me. I could feel the outline of your panties as I ran my hands down the outside of your hip, the trace of the fabric reminding me what I had purchased for you and how good you looked in them.

Passengers came and went in the carriage as we travelled along but we were barely conscious of them, wrapped up in our closeness and connection. I could feel your breath on my cheek as the train rumbled on, your total focus upon your Sir.

London Victoria station appeared as if from the darkness as the tube entered the underground station: time to get up to the platform and find our train to Brighton, hoping that the weather on the south coast would be better than in London, but this was England after all!

Our train had been cancelled. Terrific. The British railway system at its very best.

After waiting for what seemed like ages, tortured by what I knew you were wearing underneath your dress, the announcement that the train was departing from Platform 5 was a bit of a relief. We walked the short distance to the platform only to find that the train was ancient and made up of compartments and not a corridor model: this meant that we would be in a carriage with doors at both sides but no other means of coming into our seating area.

Instantly I could see the possibilities of making the journey that much more memorable.

Moving down the platform we dived into a compartment, eagerly looking forward to our forthcoming night in Brighton at The Grand Hotel. Anxiously I watch the hands on my watch tick away, hoping that nobody else was to enter our compartment so that we can have some “us” time. After what seemed like a proverbial lifetime the train moved off and we were alone, incapable of being disturbed and with the thrill of a moving train to add to the excitement.

I immediately told you to take off your coat and skirt so that I could inspect what was mine, and only mine. Those black panties fitted you snugly and showed your shape and form beautifully as I explored your wetness with my fingers, gently and carefully testing your warmth and wetness which grew quickly as I probed and teased further. I sat back and told you to kneel before me: it was time to make sure that you fully understood your position and role and that your submission to your Sir was to be absolute.

To make sure you understood I put my hands around your throat and squeezed gently and then with a little more pressure as I asked you to confirm your devotion to me. I progressively tightened my grip, not to put you in discomfort but to make sure that your focus was upon just me.

After being satisfied with your response I told you to give me the best blow job you had ever delivered, otherwise the floor on our hotel suite might be a little uncomfortable for sleeping on.  Rising to the task you did not disappoint, varying your technique from light licking and teasing to bobbing your head along my length to deep throating me. You were brilliant, as I expected you to be and as you knew you had to be.

Time for some different attention for my submissive. I quickly undressed you  and using two of my cable ties I attached your wrists to the luggage rack that ran parallel to the seats in the compartment, telling you to stand with your legs about three feet apart. I could now explore and use any part of your body and use my paddle to make sure that your attention was total. Standing behind you I whispered in your ear that you are Owned and that you are my property while I placed my hands around your neck, gently squeezing your throat, causing your mind to latch onto both my words and actions, especially what was about to come.

I explored your wetness and warmth, exploring and enjoying your softness and tenderness, teasing and probing, brushing very lightly against your clit, so that you waited for further contact on that gorgeous spot, but not knowing when it might arrive.

For what seemed a lifetime your exploration continued until I decided it was time for your spanking, which was initially light use of my paddle but then was increased in terms of harshness and speed, alternated with more exploration and teasing. This pattern was alternated regularly resulting in you begging for more attention and permission to come.

Obviously that permission was never going to be given. Nearing Brighton you were told what was expected of you tonight: being the most compliant sub possible, the most attentive and appreciative, thankful and loyal woman a Sir could ever have and that any part of your body was to be made available for my pleasure.

When I untied you I told you to quickly get dressed and to make yourself presentable, ready to walk to the seafront and our hotel, knowing that failure to be that attentive sub would mean more corrective attention for you.

Looking a little flushed, but not as flushed and pink as your bottom, we stepped out onto the platform, both unaware of the great English drizzle.