Chapter 1: THE FIRST CONVERSATION
We are cosily ensconced in my front parlour. It is a cool Sunday evening in early
spring. The fire is crackling and we sit facing each other, drinking cups of coffee.
Implacable: “Anna, thank you for agreeing to do this with me. You know I’m going to ask
you some very intimate questions and as we discussed, I want your honest answers, no holds
barred.”
Anna: “OK, I understand. I’m rather nervous … it’s sort of like being in the
confessional and all rather embarrassing in a way, even though you are a close friend. So
how do you want to do this?”
Implacable: “Well, think of me as your inner person, the one who shares your most
intimate thoughts. I was going to say, see me as your confessor, but I want to get more
intimate than that.”
Anna: [Colouring a little] “Oh, yes. I see. This is going to be a bit hard at first
but let’s just get into it and see how we go.”
Implacable: “It’s OK. I won’t judge you. In fact, assume that I have seen and done
everything you’ve done and more; that I’ve broken all the taboos, so I won’t think badly
of you for admitting to your own little peccadillos.
Let’s start with the basics. You’re an attractive woman in your late twenties. You have
a degree in business management and a full time job with a firm in the city, but you are
able to do a large amount of your work by telecommuting. You aren’t married and you don’t
have any children right? How am I going so far?”
Anna: “You’re very kind to say I’m attractive, but the rest is correct.”
Implacable: “Don’t quibble. You may not be a supermodel, but you are certainly
attractive as I’m sure you know. Remember I want honesty here, not false modesty. Now,
you’re an aficionado of corporal punishment and submission and that’s what I wanted most
to have this discussion about. So why don’t we start of with that.”
Anna: “Well, where to start? Yes, I take pleasure in being beaten. But it’s more than
that, it’s also about being dominated and putting myself into hands of another person and
losing my self-will.”
Implacable: “You have a special person with whom you share your pleasures?”
Anna: “Yes. I call him Sir. Sometimes Master, but usually Sir. He’s brought me to
where I am today. I guess you might call him my lover or partner or whatever, but to me
he’s basically my god. I mean that without trying to be dramatic. He’s more than just a
‘special person’, my universe literally revolves around him.
It’s not perhaps what you might call a twenty four seven relationship, in the sense that
I don’t live with Sir, but Sir controls my life completely. I put myself in his hands and
he is responsible for my smiles and my tears, for every facet of my life.”
Implacable: “And are there lots of tears?”
Anna: “Oh you bet! Lots and lots of tears. But lots and lots of smiles as well. Sir
makes me feel so alive. A total woman. A fulfilled woman.”
Implacable: “Fulfilled?”
Anna: “Yes, it’s hard to describe, but Sir makes me feel special and loved and wanted.
I think deep down, every woman craves attention and so often we have to compete with
football and the internet and work and so on. When I’m with Sir I pretty well get his
complete attention. Even if he’s ignoring me while I’m in the sensory depravation tank or
trussed up in a hogtie in a cupboard or something, I know he’s thinking about me. Sure
there is a lot of pain and humiliation and sometimes even frustration in that, but that is
a price I’m more than happy to pay.
[Anna gives me an impish grin.] Actually, I’m rather filled right now. I’m wearing a
dildo in my puss… cunt, and a plug in my bottom. Sir said I had to wear them for my
interview today.”
Implacable: “Cunt? That word seems so aggressive, so male; I noticed that you were
going to say pussy, why did you change your mind?”
Anna: “Sir prefers me to call my sex my cunt. He says using words like pussy is an
attempt to hide from the truth. It’s part of his way of making me confront myself head
on. He doesn’t like me to use euphemisms when referring to myself, it is all part of
being totally honest with myself. Yes I agree it is a very unromantic word, but Sir is
right to make me forgo hiding behind a romanticism.”
Implacable: “So does he punish you if you use other words, words like pussy?”
Anna: “He doesn’t forbid me to use other words, but given that he’s stated a preference,
I try to conform. To me, a spoken preference from Sir is pretty well as a good as a
command. So, no he doesn’t punish me, but I find myself feeling uncomfortable if I fail
to meet his expectations, even if it is only me that knows.”
Implacable: “How does it feel to be stuffed front and back under your skirt while you
sit here talking with me?”
Anna: “Incredibly naughty and nice! And I’m not wearing knickers; Sir forbids me to
wear them without special permission. Instead, I’ve got a sort of cinch chain that goes
down from my waist and connects at the back and it’s threaded through the dildoes so that
they stay in place. It is rather tight and that’s partly why I keep squirming on my seat
a bit because it cuts into my cunt and perineum. Of course the other reason is that I
spent yesterday with Sir and sitting on all my nice new welts and bruises makes me a bit
fidgety too. But it all makes me constantly randy, so I’m probably making a bit of mess
of your nice chair. So how does that make you feel?”
Implacable: “I’m here to ask you questions not answer them! But since you ask, you’ve
got me thoroughly aroused already. As for wetting my chair, well if you have, you’ll be
cleaning it up yourself and I might have to report you to Sir.”
Anna: “That’s not fair! It’s not my fault if you make me all wet with your
questions.”
Implacable: “We’ll worry about that later. Did Sir give you any other instructions for
the interview?”
Anna: “Well … yes he did. He told me I had to be totally honest with you. He wants to
see the transcripts once you written this up and if he thinks I’ve told lies or withheld
details he will punish me very severely.
And he told me how to dress and make myself up for you; he’s a stickler for detail … I
really like that, it’s part of being special to him that he takes so much care. Sometimes
I think men wonder what all the fuss is about with telling a girl what to wear, how to
make herself look beautiful, hair-style and all of those things. But until you actually
do it, you can’t understand how much effort it takes and I think a lot of men would fail
dismally at it.
But Sir is brilliant at it, and I love following his instructions to the letter. Unlike
most men, he actually has some idea of style, and he knows what makes me feel comfortable
and what is humiliating for a woman, and I think that’s so important in a dominant for a
successful relationship. I mean the last thing in the world you want is someone
embarrassing you in public without having a clue what is going on … it’s all about
control, and control only comes with knowledge and understanding. It is totally different
being humiliated in public on purpose compared to it happening because your partner just
doesn’t know what he’s doing.
But Sir is a man after all, and occasionally he forgets something and I’ve got so used to
following his orders without question that when he does forget, I never, never question
him. So occasionally mistakes do happen.
I actually walked from my home to his one evening without a skirt on because Sir had
forgotten to tell me to wear one! I’d thought it was a test of obedience, but it turned
out that he’d just forgotten. It was an amazing feeling to walk through our village naked
from my waist to my stocking tops because, of course, I wasn’t wearing knickers, and I
can’t tell you the agonies (and thrills) of anticipation that I went through beforehand!
And the exhilaration of actually doing it was mind-blowing, tiptoeing through the streets
dressed as I was, was worse than being naked! When I found out that it had been a
mistake, it was such a disappointment at first. It was a bit like climbing Mt Everest and
then being told it was not the highest mountain after all!
But we both laughed ourselves silly afterwards and Sir rewarded me richly for my
unquestioning obedience. It was amazing that there hadn’t been anybody out at that time
of night so my reputation stayed intact … though that was purely good luck.
[Anna suddenly reddens and her voice drops to nearly a whisper. An embarrassed whisper.]
Oh, … and Sir says I have to obey you while we’re doing the interview, and he said I had
to tell you that means anything and everything goes except that you aren’t allowed to use
your penis in my bottom-hole. Sir reserves that part of me totally for himself. You know
what with AIDS and everything, it is too dangerous to be promiscuous with my anus. You
can bugger me with a dildo or vibrator or whatever though, just not your cock. But
everything else is completely at your disposal. And Sir said he hopes you’ll beat me …
hard.”
Implacable: [somewhat taken aback at this totally unexpected but hugely magnanimous
offer.] “And do you also offer yourself or does that just come from Sir.”
Anna: “Well, I belong totally to Sir. So if he offers me, you can rest assured that I
fully agree and freely offer myself. You need to understand that if Sir had forbidden me
to, or even not said anything, nothing in the world would make me offer myself of my own
volition, but I am very happy to obey his wishes in this matter as in any other. But you
shouldn’t think that that means that I’m just offering myself because Sir said to.
Because he wants me to, I’m really looking forward to putting myself in your hands.
Sorry. It probably doesn’t make a lot of sense, but you shouldn’t think that I don’t want
to have sex with you or be beaten or whatever. I do. But I do in context of what my
Master wants, do you see what I mean?”
Implacable: “Sure I understand and I’m most grateful to both you and Sir. Tell me, does
Sir offer you to other men often?”
Anna: “Sir has a select group of friends, not many, to whom he occasionally gives me.
But it isn’t a regular thing except for one of the women. I guess there is a bit of
swapping of us girls within our group as each of Sir’s friends has one or two ‘slaves’ if
I had to use that term.”
Implacable: “Are you a slave?”
Anna: “I don’t like calling myself a slave, and Sir doesn’t use the term. But I’m not
sure how one would describe my position in any other way than through reference to the
fact that, as far as I’m concerned, I belong totally to Sir and that he owns me in a very
real sense. And I think that is what slavery is, isn’t it? But anyway, what’s in a
name?”
Implacable: “Well! I as I said, I am most grateful to Sir and to you. We’ll take
advantage of his offer no doubt, perhaps a little later. For now we should keep going
with the interview. Though I must say, I’m looking forward to seeing your bruises and
welts.
Have you been with Sir long?”
Anna: “It’s been about three years now I think. The time goes so quickly, it’s hard to
remember.”
Implacable: “And how does the arrangement work? I know you don’t live with Sir.”
Anna: “That’s right. We’ve talked about my moving in from time to time, but we both
agree that the relationship is so intense that either we would burn out -which would
destroy something wonderful, or I’d end up physically damaged – which neither of us want.
By that I mean that I, just as much as Sir, perhaps even more, want the physical side to
keep escalating; the beatings and tortures I mean; and it would be very difficult to
restrain ourselves from going overboard if we were constantly together. It’s a little
frightening in that respect. The physical separation helps to keep perspective on things
I guess.
So I share a cottage with a girlfriend of mine and I visit Sir one day a week, usually
Saturdays. That gives me time to recover on Sundays. I’m usually bed bound on Sundays.
Apart from that we sometimes go out together during the week.
Sometimes I spend the whole weekend with him … and that’s a very special time for us.”
Implacable: “Special?”
Anna: “Yes. If we have a whole weekend together Sir can take my to the limit … and
usually we discover that the limit is further than either of us thought. We also have the
time to indulge in some of the more prolonged bondage and torture things, so we can do a
lot of experimentation that we don’t usually do during our normal one day sessions.
After a weekend, it ‘s not unusual for me to be unable to walk for day or two. I’m lucky
that my employer is rather flexible about my work hours and anyway, as I often work from
home, it’s not to inconvenient if I have to spend a bit of time in bed recovering!”
Implacable: “So did you spend much time in bed today?”
Anna: “Oh yes. I got up when it was time to get ready for this interview. I can
promise you, I’m deliciously sore all over. Sir gave me a pretty thorough seeing to
yesterday.”
Implacable: “That’s a rather lovely phrase ‘seeing to’.”
Anna: “Yes, I think so too. It sort of has the connotations of being dealt with, like
some naughty school girl. I like being a naughty school girl sometimes. Not always, but
it’s all part of being wanted and cared for I suppose.”
Implacable: “So do you have some sort of routine?”
Anna: “Yes, up to a point. Our sessions often vary in many ways, but the basic elements
are always present.”
Implacable: “And want are those elements.”
Anna: “In a nutshell, pain and submission. There’s the cane of course. Sir loves to
cane me. And if I’m honest, I adore having him cane me. And of course there is the sex.
Sir is into my bottom in big way. Like any man he uses my mouth and my cunt lots, but I
can be assured that I’ll be beaten and buggered every time I visit. I know it will sound
strange, but that is incredibly comforting for a girl … well for this girl anyway. In
fact he buggers me after most of my thrashings if not with his cock, then with some toy or
gadget or whatever. I’ve had all manner of things up my bum!
I’m usually beaten with all sorts of implements during a session, but there is always the
cane. And while I might get any number of canings during a session, we always finish the
session with a caning on my bottom regardless of the state of it. And then a good solid
buggering, without fail. And Sir makes a point of ensuring that I go home weeping,
regardless of how much I’ve already taken. As I said, there are always lots of tears.”
Implacable: “It sounds like Sir uses your behind a great deal. Do you enjoy anal sex?”
Anna: “Oh yes! I like ‘normal’ sex … in fact all sorts of sex, but to have my master
take his pleasure in my bottom is wonderful.
At first I found it difficult because before I met Sir, I’d never had anal sex and I’d
get very sore quite quickly even though Sir was careful to use lots of lubricant. But
frequent use of my back passage plus lot’s of stretching with butt plugs soon cured that
little problem. I take special care to make my bottom available; you know what I mean,
nice and clean and well lubricated, and I can take any amount of bum-fucking now.”
Implacable: “I notice you use words like bum and bottom and behind but not arse”
Anna: “Well I was trying to be at least a little bit lady-like but, sure I often talk
about my ‘arse-hole’ with Sir. Sir uses lots of words including arse and arse-hole. But
he doesn’t let me call my buttocks any of those other things like fanny and tush and buns.
Again it’s the ‘in your face’ thing. I guess just like ‘cunt’, ‘arse’ is a very
aggressive word and I think that often it reduces something to vulgarity that deserves
something better. But that’s just me being prissy I suppose.”
Implacable: “Fair enough. So tell me, how did your arrangement come about?”
Anna: “Well it was a long story as they say …”
Implacable: “I’m here for a long story.”
Anna: “I should say up front that, until I met Sir, I’d had a pretty normal sex life and
had never considered that I might be a submissive; it had just never come up, which,
looking back, seems so very odd given that the lifestyle fits me to a tee.
Well we initially met, as so often happens, through a mutual friend at a party. After
the party Sir, my friend and I went on to a club for a late night drink. I remember that
I found Sir rather attractive, being a rather older man he seemed so much more mature and
sophisticated than most of my friends at the time.
Anyway, he phoned me a couple of days later and invited me to dinner. I was really glad
that he had followed through on our first meeting. It wasn’t that I’d set my cap at him
so to speak, but I had come through the dark period after a break-up and I was starting to
take an interest in the male of the species again. And as I say, Sir seemed to be a cut
above the crowd so I was flattered that he thought enough of me from our first meeting to
invite me to dinner.
The dinner passed pleasantly enough. It was purely an opportunity to get to know each
other better. We parted that evening good friends, though, for my part, if he’d invited
me to share his bed that evening, I’d have probably said yes. …. Am I boring you?”
Implacable: “Not all, please keep going.”
Anna: “Well he didn’t invite me home. Instead he was the perfect gentleman and dropped
me off at my place with just a peck on my cheek.
After that, he took me to dinner twice more in successive weeks. On our third outing, my
Galahad must have finally read my signals because he invited me home.
When we got there however, instead of taking me to his bedroom for a thorough bonking,
your wet knickered Anna was sat down in the lounge for what turned out to be a very
serious talk!
Sir told me that he was very much attracted to me, but that he advised me to break off
the relationship and save myself. He described himself as a perverted old man and he
seemed absolutely intent on dissuading me from having anything to do with him.
Needless to say, I was stunned. Normally a bloke will say anything to get into a girl’s
knickers and it was rather a shock to find myself with a man who seemed to be hell bent on
achieving the opposite when victory was already his!”
Implacable: “So what did you do?”
Anna: “I guess I just sat and listened.
Sir explained that his sexual requirements went rather beyond the normal activities and
that he was concerned that I wasn’t ready to become involved. Of course that just served
to pique my curiosity another notch or two, so I insisted that he tell me what it was that
he felt was so awful that he wanted to push me away like this. Like any red blooded girl
when told she wasn’t up to the mark on something, I immediately took it as a challenge.
I guess one of the endearing things about Sir is his gentlemanliness. It is certainly
something that I value in him. And it seems so odd a combination to say that someone is a
gentleman when he indulges such violent and seemingly abusive behaviour with me. But I
think the paradox is resolved when you realise that I am an active collaborator in the
things he does to me. I can honestly say that Sir wouldn’t lay a finger on me without my
permission, whether explicit or implied.
Anyway, as you can imagine, it was quite difficult for Sir to explain his preferences to
me, expecting me to fly into an abusive feminist rage at any second. There is always that
leap of faith that you have to go through with any relationship, that boundary where you
let down your guard and let the other person see a glimpse of the real you. Well this was
that time for Sir and he was magnificent. He took me down the story of his fascination
with domination and submission, ‘erotic power exchange’ he called it. I remember thinking
what a lovely concept it sounded and then as he explained what it meant, I sort of
mentally gulped. Here was this nice man I’d been dating saying he wanted to beat me and
tie me up and things, to give myself up totally to him.
Well … I didn’t walk out on him that evening, though I’m sure every instinct in my body
was screaming RUN! But, and again I put this down to Sir’s innate common sense, after
he’d given me a fairly complete description of what he expected of his sexual partner he
let me off the hook so to speak. He told me that he didn’t want to see me again unless I
was willing to be the person he had described. I know that sounds a bit harsh and
dismissive, but he did it with a lot more style than my words indicate. In hindsight of
course it was absolutely the right thing to do, to lay it all out before me so that I
could make an informed choice. A bit clinical perhaps, but a hell of a lot better than
being led down the path with falsehoods. It is something that is so rare these days, for
someone to be totally honest with you and I’ve really grown to appreciate it, though it
can be very confronting at first, not the least because we are so unused to it!
Well, as you can imagine, I was feeling torn, not being used to the concept of being
beaten, but reacting against the thought that I wasn’t good enough for this man whom I had
already grown to regard with affection if not actual love.
Anyway, Sir gave me a stiff drink and he also gave me a copy of Pauline Réage’s
‘The Story Of O’ to take home and read and I’d understand what it was that he was looking
for. And then he bundled his startled guest up and drove her home.
I was very confused I have to say. It took me several days to even be able to think
about how to handle this situation. In the end it was my housemate, Yvette, who sorted me
out. I’d not said anything about Sir’s revelations, and when Wednesday came around, and I
hadn’t said anything about him at all or about future outings, like any woman, she
naturally started probing. I was very reluctant I have to say as I felt that I was
betraying a confidence and I was already feeling somewhat proprietorial about Sir; we
women are funny folk! Anyway, Yvette finally got me started and then the whole story
came rushing out.
Instead of her railing against male chauvinist pigs, which was what I had expected, she
asked me if I was going to do it! You could have knocked me over with a feather. It
turns out that she had previously been involved as a submissive in a very mild D/S
relationship and that she therefore understood what was going on. The things you learn!
I’d never have guessed that in a thousand years. Anyway, when I expressed my total
ignorance of the scene, she explained in rather more graphic detail the things that Sir
had alluded to.
And then she told me to read the book and make up my mind whether that was the life for
me or not. And then she really floored me by saying that she’d always thought I’d make a
great submissive. Well … talk about a week of revelations! I’d never ever considered
myself in that light at all, but she seemed to see it in me.
So I spent the next several days reading. And if I’m honest, masturbating while I did
so. I’d never read anything so powerfully erotic before. I seemed to constantly have my
hand in my pants. And more than once, Yvette caught me, looking in to my to tell me it
was time to eat or go to work or whatever. I think I went a particularly vivid shade of
red when that happened, but it just served to provide further discoveries: Yvette and I
made love to each other that week, and she was more than willing to give me a good
frigging while I read! I had no idea that she was into girls. Well to be fair, she is a
raging heterosexual but now I understand a girl can be bi and well … I guess that means
I’m bi too, because sex with girls sure can be a lot of fun.
I reread ‘The Story Of O’ again on the weekend, enthralled with the prospect that I could
be like her, but scared out of my wits. I’m lucky I didn’t get fired on the next few days
as I was just a mindless zombie, totally oblivious to the rest of the world and I screwed
up everything I did.. Looking back, I can see now that I’d made my decision on the
Sunday, but I sort of didn’t know I’d made it. Sounds silly I know, but there you are.
I just couldn’t seem to work up the courage to go back. I remember trying to rationalise
my decision by saying I had to see him to return the book, but I knew that wasn’t the real
reason.
It was the Friday, what, a full ten days after I’d last seen him, when I rang Sir at his
office and told him that I wanted to see him again. He asked me if I’d read the book and
did I know what it was I was letting myself in for. And when I said yes, he told me to
come to his house that evening.
So that was how it all started.”
Implacable: “And what happened when you turned up at Sir’s house?”
Anna: “You really want to know everything don’t you!”
Implacable: “I sure do.”
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