07

I couldn't believe myself. I just couldn't. But all that went out the window when I saw a wide smile on Miss Givens's gorgeous face, her flushed cheeks round like those of a happy child.

Owning me was the same alien completeness a woman felt when holding an infant. It was pure and strange, it was deep and strong, it was love beyond words and reason.

Miss Givens was pleased with me; gently, her face fair, she nodded. And as a Sub, this pleased me.

Now lifting herself, she said, "Stay," as if she were indeed talking to a dog. I didn't move, but only lifted my eyes to hers. "Good boy."

She walked to the direction of the door, behind me. I hoped she wasn't leaving me. She no longer had on her boots, so I couldn't tell where she was. She was still in the room, however, for the door never gave sound.

And I could feel her, with instinct and my blood. I could feel her as a man felt the presence of his woman. Her presence brought me intoxicating warmth.

"Boy," she said, her voice floating, "I know that we've only met like... 15 minutes ago, but I need you to trust me."

The gentle sounds of her bare feet hit the tile, so sweet and sure my heart sang along. The sounds came my way, returning to me, and I smelled her before she appeared in front of me. I smelled the flowers and the leaves and the rain, then I raised my head.

She was holding a tie... my tie. "I'll use this. Don't worry, you can trust me."

I nodded, smiling, and she nodded, smiling.

Miss Givens went to her oversized bag, her hand moved around a bit, until it returned with a chain and a padlock. A key was in the padlock.

She put the chain in the metal ring of the collar around my neck, locked it with the padlock, and put the key on the floor.

She returned to the bag, but this time her hand returned only a second later. She had another fringe whip. Miss Givens then pulled me with the chain, both whips in the other hand.

I was on all-fours, crawling behind her like an obedient dog. This was humiliating, that was true, but then this is what I paid... what Mistress Lincoln paid for with her husband's money.

But when we were about 10 feet from the two suede-cushioned, navy chairs near the TV, Miss Givens said, "Stop," and I immediately did, as if I had been burned or held or whipped. "Sit the way I taught you."

With grace and patience, she was standing in front of me, waiting for her dog to continue with its obedience. I lowered my eyes as she preferred me; now I only saw her small feet, with her red toenails.

As Mistress Lincoln had taught me, I parted my knees wider and sat on my heels. Miss Givens taught me to place my hands and my arms flat on my thighs, and I did that.

"Good boy," she said sweetly.

Miss Givens then placed the chain and the whips on the floor. She turned and walked away.

But I was a disobedient dog: I raised my head a bit, and watched her walk to the chairs, her small, pale butt swaying beautifully like a flower against a light breeze.

She knew I was watching, she had to know, or she wouldn't be swaying for me. And also, she wouldn't have bent as she did over the chair on the right...

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

Her butt was swollen. And if it were not for the swimsuit, I would have glimpsed what was between her pale thighs.

But then seconds later she returned… It was too soon if you asked me. She returned with the TV remote, and later than I should've I remembered to lower my head.

My penis was hard.

Maybe she saw me, maybe she didn't.

What would she do to me?