(
)
CHAPTER 1
PROLOGUE
It takes a special kind of woman to allow herself to be truly dominated. She has to be fearless. She has to be courageous. She needs complete, unquestioning trust. Usually there's not enough of any of those three. Since I became a member, I have looked for her, and found nothing. Years of searching and nothing. They cannot or will not or choose not to submit completely. It is not their fault, the ingredients aren't there.
The ability to trust gets washed out of us, like a red dress turned pink in the laundry. If they do not let go, completely let go, then the moment is ruined. The bliss I can promise goes away if they hold back, if their courage fails, if they start to fear the pleasure and the pain. But if they let go, then there are no limits.
Dominance is a form of prayer, of reverence. There's nothing like giving a woman the fucking that she's always wanted, always needed. Their pleasure becomes my own.
This club is my church.
The room is pitch dark, I can hear her breathing and fidgeting. She's been waiting for me in the pitch dark blackness. Time has been erased for her, it could have been ten minutes or ten hours, she's not sure anymore without a watch, phone, internet, something to fiddle with and distract her mind, escape herself and her own thoughts. Those distractions are denied here. It's just her and the darkness and herself. And me of course. I've been waiting here longer than she has.
Always the same, the darkness, the silence is too intense for most. It drives them crazy, alone with their thoughts and fears for the first time in who knows?. . . The sense of hearing increases until they can almost hear me breathing. The sense of touch spikes so they can almost feel my breath and my body heat.
She can't take it anymore. She stands up.
“Sit down.” I command.
She does as she's told. Good. She doesn't know where the voice came from, she looks around, but of course can see nothing.
“Sorry.”
“The rules haven't changed for thousands of years do you think they will change for you?”
There is no response.
“You talk when I tell you to talk. You know the rules, don't you?”
Silence is the only response.
“Answer me.”
“Yes, I know the rules.”
“Good.”
I walk over. I take her hand, and kiss the back of it, it smells like apples - mallum- as it's supposed to. I bring her palm over my arms and stomach. She coos in approval. She reaches for my cock, stiff through my pants, I let her brush against it, then strike her naked ass with the crop, “Not yet. Not until I allow you.”
She laughs. She thinks this a game.
“Stand up,” I command. She does, but timidly. I can feel the lack of trust in her movements. In her body. In her voice. I can almost smell it on her. Disappointment again. She is not the one. But for tonight, she'll do. I'll show her what she will miss. I hope she will trust, but I've seen this too many times before.
She cannot or will not trust.
She will not or cannot let go.
She cannot or will not submit.
I remove the chair. I unwrap the scarf. I gently lift her robe off her shoulders and let it fall in a heap beside her. She shivers in her nakedness and tries to cover up. I slap her with the riding crop.
“No.”
She drops her arms. They never know what to do with them. It's pitch black, but still they feel the need to cover up.
I breathe on her neck, and hear her sigh. I brush the scarf over her shoulders, and feel her perfect smooth skin, broken by goose bumps under every downy hair. The goose bumps always excite me, the mix of cold and fear and excitement. Her breathing is heavy still, her breasts heave with her chest.
“Keep your eyes closed like a good serva,” I tell her, with a hint of threat in my voice, to let her know there will be repercussions if she does not listen. She stops the struggling, she relaxes, just enough, but she does not trust. I stand in front of her, she can feel the warmth of my skin, she can feel my breath, she can smell me, but she does not reach out this time.
I grab her hands together, by the wrists and pull her up, I am behind her now, her ass inches closer to my crotch, she wants it now, needs it now, but not yet. . .
I pull her hands down to the desk, bend her over, my hands on hers, again her hips press against mine, my cock is swollen and urgently wants the same thing she does, but I'm in control.
I'm pushing her now.
My needs come second here.
My free hand draws a line down her spine, with my thumb over each vertebrae, and keeps going to reach under to brush against her pussy.
“Oh please.” she whimpers.
I did not allow her to speak.
I hold her hands tighter against the table, and bring my free hand back to her pussy, where I let it linger over her slit, she's almost willing me to plunge it in at this point,
“Speaking out of turn is against the rules.”
“Sorry, sir,” comes out of her mouth.
I draw my hand out of her crease, and slap her ass and pussy. “That was not a question.”
Some get the hang of it quicker than others.
But it's okay, I enjoy teaching.
I'm patient, but very strict.