Written by: JeremyDCP@hotmail.com
Chapter 39: "Servitude"
Finding myself in full role-playing mode, I had to stay
calm and at least try to look the part of a dominant Master.
I could not allow myself to get too emotionally high, or too
low. I had to be strict and demanding, yet fair at the same
time. But how was I supposed to have a level head and keep
my senses in check when I had _this_ standing in front of me?
My heart was fluttering within my chest as the lovely and
insatiable Amy had just emerged from the nearby washroom. A
remarkable, stunning vision of red-headed submissive beauty,
Amy presented herself to me wearing a French's maid's outfit.
Exquisitely small and very low-cut, the sinful, sexy
uniform seemed straight out of an adult mail order catalog.
In reality, I had purchased it for Amy at a lingerie shop
during our recent trip to Lima. The French maid's uniform
was black, with a halter-style design for its top that did a
terrible (but mouth-watering) job of trying to conceal Amy's
massive breasts. It teased a lot of cleavage as well, thus
the full, outer sides of Amy's breasts were totally visible.
Lacey white ruffles adorned the 31-year-old's throat and
wrists, and a pair of black thigh-high stockings with garter
straps encased both of her magnificent legs. The skirt, made
of fine satin, ended several inches above those stockings and
offered subtle glimpses of the black, silky G-string which
Amy wore underneath it. Amy also had on black pumps with
five-inch heels and a frilly, lacey hat atop her pretty head.
I gulped my throat and felt my aching cock rustle within my
trousers as Amy spun around in a circle for me, proudly
modeling the lovely, exquisite outfit. In the process, her
flimsy, little skirt flew upwards, offering me a quick peak
of the black G-string panties that she wore underneath it.
Now facing me and making eye contact, the satin fabric
made a gentle crinkling sound as Amy reached down with both
hands to smooth her skirt out. Her feeble little attempt
at being coy was humorous, but even Amy realized I knew much
better than that. The bloom was off this rose long ago. Of
course, I would not have it any other way.
The young woman then twirled one of her spiked heels upon
the lush, carpeted floor, even giggling in the process. I
could tell that Amy was having a great time. Not only did
she enjoy dolling herself up like this, but Amy also knew
what I had in store for her today. I was going to dominate
Amy and take complete, total control of her, which was what
she had wanted from me all along. This was, quite simply,
going to be _her day_.
"Do you like it, Jeremy?" Amy asked me with a grin. She
was absolutely glowing. Still, Amy reached under her skirt
and tugged at her black G-string. "I can't believe you told
me to wear panties. You know I HATE wearing panties!"
"Get down on your knees," I simply told her, my voice
uncharacteristically strict. "And address me properly."
"I'm sorry, Master," Amy immediately complied, lowering
her gaze in a submissive manner and dutifully dropping to
her knees. She momentarily placed both hands upon the floor
to balance herself, then stood erect and proud, yet looked
at me with worrisome eyes. "I'm sorry..."
Amy suddenly seemed so concerned at my tone of voice that
I got the sense she just wanted to curl up into a ball and
start crying. It was okay, though. This was part of the
process for us. It was part of the game. I was learning
what it took to be her dominant Master in life. Amy was
learning what I expected out of her. She was in _training_.
"Hands behind your back."
Amy breathed deep and sighed intently as she followed
instructions, quickly reaching behind herself with both arms
and then clasping her hands together at the small of her
back. Of course, this caused Amy's wondrous, D-cup breasts
to jut out even more across the top of her uniform. Amy
realized it too, because she arched her back, thus
exaggerating her bust-line even more. Oh, how I just wanted
to end the role-play and ravage this tempting woman fully
and completely right now. I needed patience, though...
"_I'm sorry, Master_ is a phrase that should, under no
circumstances, be part of your regular vocabulary." Amy
cringed and nodded her head in acceptance as I stood up from
the chair and made my way over to her. "I never want to
hear that you are SORRY for anything." I put my hand
on her shoulder, then moved it downward and swatted her
naughty ass three times in succession with sharp, biting
blows. "Submissives are not supposed to be SORRY!"
"Yes, Master," Amy nodded, a single tear streaking down
her face. Her body was already trembling. I did not act
quite this strong-willed and dominant around her all that
often, but Amy sure did seem to appreciate it when I did.
If it was up to her, I would be this way all the time.
I could see the outline of Amy's lush nipples as they
were all nice and snug upon the front of her halter-like top.
If I undid just that one button, her breasts would pour out.
Amy's green eyes went wide and she groaned in response as
I retrieved a pair of velcro handcuffs from the nearby hutch.
Amy gasped as I latched onto her right forearm and forcefully
pinned it to her back. I slipped the velcro restraint around
her right wrist, then did the same for her left arm and wrist.
With just a three inch chain between them, the straps ensured
that Amy's hands and arms were literally immobilized, and
would stay that way until I saw fit to release them.
"Try and break free," I instructed her.
Amy huffed and panted, and the muscles within her beautiful
body contracted, but there was no possible way that she could
sever these bonds. Still, it was highly erotic for me to
watch her put up a fight and struggle. I especially enjoyed
the way her breasts flopped and bounced about as she wiggled
her torso from side-to-side, still trying to free herself.
She even squealed out in (mock) protest.
"That's enough," I advised her, before returning to my
chair and taking a seat in it. Now motionless, Amy looked at
me attentively from her knees. But I just sat there. For a
good 60 seconds, I simply stared at Amy and silently admired
her. With both hands bound behind her back, Amy's shoulders
looked a bit contorted and uncomfortable. But Amy quickly
became restless, though, as I continued to appraise her with
my eyes. She shifted her weight to one knee, then the other.
"Impatient, are we?" I teased her.
"No, Master," Amy answered, before realizing that she had
actually just lied to me. A minor, white lie, but a lie
nonetheless. "I MEAN, yes, Master! Yes! Yes, I am becoming
impatient." Still, the damage was done. And she knew it.
"You're awfully bratty today," were my words, which caused
Amy to swallow hard and frown. "Looks like you leave me no
choice - I am going to have to punish you."
Amy cringed yet again, then reluctantly nodded her head.
"Turn around and bend over."
Amy spun herself in a half-circle upon her knees, then
leaned forward until her shoulders and forehead reached the
floor. With both hands still restrained behind her back,
Amy placed the side of her face upon the carpet and looked
toward me out of the corner of one eye. She looked so
incredibly tantalizing in that position with her uniform on.
"Ass up," I demanded, to which Amy raised her hips high
into the air and thrust her backside out proudly. But, I
thought she could do better. I stepped forward and smacked
her thigh, insisting, "Higher! Get that ass higher!"
Once Amy had stretched herself to the max, her perfect
ass pointed skyward, I nodded my head and smiled inwardly.
I took the hem of her little skirt and neatly tucked it into
its waistband, thus exposing her vulnerable ass even more.
"I want you to think about using proper etiquette around
me from now on while I discipline you," I said, dropping to
my own knees and moving directly behind Amy's upturned ass.
"You need to watch your mouth," I also warned her, before
coming up with an idea. I moved over toward a massive trunk
that was in the corner (it had the name _AMY_ stitched out
across its front), then fished out a black ball gag that had
two straps attached to it, only to quickly return to her.
"This will keep you out of trouble for awhile," I offered,
pressing the large ball to her mouth and forcing it between
her lips, as well as her teeth. Amy made a muffling sound,
and once the gag was secure in her mouth, I wrapped the two
straps around her head and fastened them tightly.
"Hmmmph..." was the only word Amy could now mutter.
"Do you remember how teachers used to punish naughty
schoolgirls back in the day?" I asked.
Amy's green eyes were now bulging from their sockets as I
retrieved a thick, bamboo cane and waved it about in front
of her face. Clearly, Amy never once thought that I would
use something that could potentially leave a long and
ever-lasting mark on her such as a bamboo cane. These
things, from all accounts, were supposed to _hurt_.
"It's time for some old-fashioned discipline."
Her backside positioned perfectly, I brought the cane down
hard - perhaps too hard - so she would know that I meant
business. Amy screamed and cried out like never before upon
her gag, her whole body vibrating, as she rocked her face
from side-to-side. I allowed the pain to linger and simmer
for a bit, and hopefully spread to all parts of her body, but
soon Amy looked back at me with a wild glint. I could tell
that she wanted more. She actually wanted me to cane her
some more. And probably much harder, too.
I offered her another forceful stroke with the switch,
and then found myself shocked that the first had already
left an indelible red mark upon her vulnerable ass.
Amy screamed again as I gave her a third. Then, I set
the cane down upon the floor and promptly clipped away
the back half of her G-string with a small pair of
surgical scissors. I moved my hand between her thighs and
rubbed her pussy. She was already sopping wet.
More tears were streaming down her face as she glared
back at me. Without warning, I brought my hand back and,
with the full force of my arm, smacked it hard across her
backside. There was an aura of fear and discomfort across
her face, but also the lust that I was looking for. It
provided me the fuel that I needed to push forward.
"I'm going to give you ten more lashes with the cane, pet.
Then we can talk about being a good girl."
Amy shook her head frantically and tried to speak through
her gag, but it was no use. I thwacked her nine times with
the cane in rapid, quick-fire progression, as she gasped and
cried in response. Her backside writhed about in sweet pain,
the sensations making it rock back-and-forth in a truly lewd,
wanton fashion. Her wrists strained against the unforgiving
velcro handcuffs; by the eighth stroke I had to hold her body
down because her desperate movements may have pulled her away
from the desired (disciplinary) position.
When I delivered the tenth (and final) horrible blow, Amy
reared her head back completely and her red hair thrashed
from side-to-side as she shook it as if to refuse the
punishment she had been given. Satisfied for now, I moved
back and surveyed my work. Amy was quite feisty, indeed, but
I knew with enough time and effort I could break her.
I leaned in closer and undid the two straps that held the
ball gag in place. Once I removed it, Amy opened and closed
her mouth several times, stretching her jaws and its
accompanying muscles to relieve any tension and stress.
"Your panties are completely soaked," I casually informed
her, pulling the garment from her hips with my thumb and
forefinger. I took a quick whiff and found myself overjoyed
with the fresh aroma of pussy juice. Next, however, I placed
the panties upon the side of her face and head.
Amy shook her head quite violently, and the panties fell
off. I picked them up and put them back onto her head as she
glared back at me with hard, unrelenting eyes.
"If you try and shake those panties off again," I warned
her, "I will give you 20 more lashes with the cane." Amy's
expression quickly changed, naturally, to one of fear and
anxiety. She let out a miserable whimper and now looked back
at me with wide, puppy-dog eyes. "Now try and act like a
good girl, and be proud you have soiled panties on your head."
I was not a sadist. I could, in fact, never truly cause
any harm to another human being - especially a woman. But
this was what Amy wanted. She _wanted_ to submit to me.
Amy wanted to be feel protected and cherished, but she also
had the desire to be punished when it was truly necessary.
Receiving discipline was, in fact, quite paramount to her.
It was an integral aspect for her of being submissive.
Still, I was not a sadist. I believe the amount of force
that I was using to get the physical side of her punishments
across was actually quite timid. On a scale of one to ten
with five being normal for standard BDSM play, I was giving
her a three, or a four, at the very most. It was difficult
enough for me to do this as it was, but the overall driving
force that kept me going was the simple fact that this was
what Amy wanted. She _needed_ it. Even when she cried and
complained, down deep, Amy still wanted me to discipline her.
I even got the sense that she wanted me to ramp things up to
a seven or an eight, although in good conscience I could not.
My ultimate goal, though, was to seize control of her
mind. I did not need to physically demolish and brutalize
Amy in order to get what I wanted. Amy had been in love with
me since day one, and had an overwhelming amount of respect
for me as well. That little, timid, submissive girl inside
of her wanted me to not only love her, but also shield her
from all of the perils in her life. Amy wanted to feel safe
and protected, and ultimately give up all control. Along
with that, of course, came discipline when merited.
I placed my right hand upon her quivering backside and
caressed it. Amy sighed and moaned at the raw sensation,
then I began to work my fingers down between her pussy lips.
"Was there a flash-flood down here that I was unaware of?"
were my prodding words, a pair of fingers diving deep. "Did
you have an orgasm while I gave you that spanking?" I jammed
a third finger into her and insisted, "Did you, pet?"
"I... I... I was masturbating, Master, while I was getting
ready and... and putting the French maid uniform on for you."
"Did I give you permission to masturbate?"
Amy mashed her eyelids together and cringed, "No Master,
you... you did not."
"What am I going to do with you?" I sighed, shaking my
head, as I pelted her backside twice with heavy-handed blows.
The force from the second one caused Amy to involuntary jerk
her head, which made the panties slip from her face and drop
harmlessly to the floor. She then hemmed and hawed in utter
desperation, obviously now fearful that I was going to give
her 20 additional whacks with the cane.
"Do I really need to up your training, so to speak, and
bring it to a whole other level?" was my question for her.
"You have been very disobedient today, Amy. What's worse,
you have been very reckless. Since when were you given the
right of having free will? Since when do you have the right
to even remotely touch yourself, let alone masturbate,
without asking me first?" I slapped her ass three times
in quick, stinging succession, then quietly proclaimed, "I
believe I need to do something to correct your behavior."
"Please, Master!" Amy begged, tears literally in her
voice. "Please! I'll be better for you! I... I want to
obey you, and make you happy. I... just please... don't
p-punish me again. Please, Master... oh God, please!"
I picked up her soiled panties from the floor and mused,
"I am sorry, Amy, but you deserve to be punished... and you
WILL be punished." Before she could respond, I stuffed the
panties into her mouth, thus making an impromptu gag out of
them. Amy coughed and momentarily choked on the soft lace.
Despite her sobs otherwise, Amy wanted the discipline.
She _needed_ it. She _craved_ it. As a veteran submissive,
the 31-year-old knew that not only would the forthcoming
discipline be warranted, but that she actually deserved it.
I moved back to the chair and took a seat there, only to
then pat my thigh. "Over my lap, Amy. Now."
Those panties still stuffed in her mouth, Amy managed to
make it to her feet without use of her hands. One of her
fishnet stockings, which went so well with the French maid
outfit, now had a massive hole near her right knee. It had
somehow gotten ripped during her prior ordeal. Frazzled, Amy
came over to me and slowly, but surely, spread herself out
across my trusting, protective lap.
I watched with admiration as her long-flowing red hair
cascaded down around her face as she hung her head low while
at the same time, her backside, still raw and simmering from
the cane, was offered up to me. That ass of hers looked so
prim and proper as it jiggled for my lecherous eyes.
"Do you understand why I am going to punish you?"
Unable to speak, Amy made a pathetic sound and nodded her
head in response. Even as I placed a tender, reassuring hand
upon her backside, Amy flinched anyway. She flinched as if a
gunshot had gone off. The keys to her mind, it seemed, were
right there for the taking.
"You're lucky I don't give you the 20 lashes with the
cane," I told her, reaching into the aforementioned trunk
and fishing out a hardwood paddle. Amy winced and moaned,
her eyes looking back and fixated upon the paddle, as I
grabbed a clump of her hair and rearranged it so it fell
down the side of her neck.
Over the span of the next ten seconds, I rocked her ass
with the paddle five times. Each blow landed in a different
spot; none were too harsh, but Amy was gently sobbing at the
end of it regardless. Not surprisingly, I sensed a bit of
moisture on one of my trouser legs. It was pussy juice.
"You may spit the panties out of your mouth."
"Oh my God!" Amy whined after the panties, slick with her
saliva, fell to the floor. "Oh God..."
Without warning, I began to paddle Amy again. I gave her
a total of seven swats as she began to squirm and writhe
upon my lap, her body convulsing and those cries becoming
louder and even more desperate. Of course, they were a bit
harder and more severe than the initial set.
"Thank me, Amy."
"Oh God, Master... oh my God..."
I gave her five more whacks with the paddle.
"Thank me, Amy."
"Oh my God!"
Five more. Each harder than the one before.
"OH, MASTER... OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD!"
This time, I brought the paddle down with the most amount
of force yet (it would probably register as a seven). It
caused Amy to jump in my lap and let out her loudest scream
yet. It must have rocked her to her very core, because even
her high-heeled feet were twitching and convulsing.
"Thank you, Master! Thank you, Master!"
"Good girl," I nodded, putting the paddle away. I placed
my right hand on her exposed, smoldering skin, and caressed
it gently. "Does that little ass of yours hurt, pet?"
"Yes, Master," she sobbed, looking back at me with eyes
now redder than her hair.
"Did you learn your lesson today?"
"You're such a good girl when you obey," I complimented
her, now undoing the velcro straps which had restrained her
hands for so long. Amy immediately brought them in front of
her as she was still over my lap, then squeezed each of her
wrists and wrung them out to get some feeling back.
"Th-Thank you, Master."
"You may get down on your knees and face me now, pet."
Amy nearly stumbled as she removed herself from my lap.
She immediately dropped to her knees, then placed both hands
behind her back yet again (like a good submissive should)
and proudly jutted her breasts outward. The French maid
outfit she had on was starting to look a bit tattered.
I reached into my pocket and pulled something out, but
kept it hidden from Amy's curious eyes in a balled-up fist.
I then undid my trousers and pulled them, as well as my
briefs, downward. My cock, needless to say, was ready to
burst. It plunged out, standing firm and straight, and
wobbled obscenely before Amy's suddenly adoring gaze.
"Do you know what this is?" I asked her, opening my fist
and revealing a plastic bag with two white pills inside.
Amy seemed confused. "That's... my medicine... Master?"
"Yes," I informed her. "Two pills - your daily dose of
_Lexapro_ - your anti-depressant. Didn't you ask me two
weeks ago, after your visit to Dr. Humala on the mainland,
if I would help you in taking your medicine every single day
from now on? Without my help, you thought you may forget?"
"Yes, Master," she nodded.
"You have not taken your medicine yet today..."
"No, Master. It's not time for a few hours yet."
Amy's mouth went slightly ajar and she watched with pure
fascination as I first removed the two pills from the sleeve,
then placed each of them on the thick, bulging head of my
cock. I held steady, not wanting either pill to topple off.
That would have just ruined the spectacle.
"Take your medicine," I told her. "Take it now."
Again confused, Amy glanced up at my face, then my cock,
face, cock and face again.
"Don't make me get the flogger."
With that, in one full swoop, Amy leaned forward, opening
and closing her mouth over the end of my shaft. She quickly
pulled back, her eyes fixated on mine, and I noticed the dose
of _Lexapro_ was suddenly gone.
"Good girl," I smiled, reaching for a glass of water and
offering it to her. "Drink."
"Thank you, Master," Amy cooed, using both hands to hold
the small glass as she sipped the water. "Thank you so much."
"Mouth," I said to her. "Open your mouth. Tongue out."
Again, Amy did as she was instructed, opening her mouth
and extending her tongue, its tip even curling underneath her
lower lip for extra emphasis. I stepped forward and smacked
my cock across her tongue, then grabbed either side of her
head and thrusted myself hard and fast into her.
Not expecting such force, Amy gagged and choked, but that
was not going to stop me from continuing. My hips were an
absolute blur as I blasted her mouth, driving the tip of my
cock down her throat. I trusted that she could make the
necessary adjustments in order not to gag or choke, and of
course I was right. In no time flat Amy took me like a pro,
her eyes wide and staring up at me with absolute devotion
pouring from them as I erotically impaled her face and mouth.
With one final thrust, I jammed my cock so deep into her
that her nose was squished up and contorted against my pubic
bone. "Swallow every last drop," was my simple demand, as
sperm began to jettison from my shaft. "EVERY last drop!"
I tipped my head back and roared like a wild animal, the
juices flowing from my shaft as if a river dam had burst. I
did not even know where all of it was coming from - this was
perhaps my biggest and most monstrous load ever. It just
kept pumping out more. Even as I crested downward from the
incredible height of orgasm, it had slowed down, but was
still oozing with sperm.
And much to her credit, Amy swallowed every last ounce.
"Thank you, Master," the 31-year-old garbled when I
finally withdrew my cock from her mouth. I reached down and
touched the side of her head with my hand, then tossed aside
the frilly maid's hat she had been wearing.
Feeling winded and tired, I took a step back and returned
to a seated position upon the chair. I breathed deeply and
sighed in utter pleasure, the after-effects of my climax still
reverberating throughout my body. I closed my eyes for a
moment, then opened them and smiled graciously at Amy. "Do
you know why I had you put on a French maid's uniform today?"
"Because it pleases you, Master."
That was not the specific answer I was looking for, but it
was good enough. It was how a true submissive would respond.
"Come here," I said, my voice now soft, as I beckoned Amy
with my hand and fingers. When she got close, I pulled her
onto my lap and had her to take a seat there. Amy hissed
and mewed as a result; her ass must have really been sore
and tender, and aching. There was actually some discomfort
for her in just sitting down. I felt sorry for her, but I
could never allow that to show. "You may call me Jeremy for
now. We are going to suspend Master and slave play."
Suddenly, Amy was pouting. "Okay."
"Is this what you want?" I asked her for literally the
millionth time. "This is how you want to be treated?"
Amy nodded her head and coyly replied, "Yes."
"Because I enjoy it."
"What makes you enjoy it, though?"
Amy laughed and shrugged her shoulders, perhaps unsure of
what to say. "I don't know, Jeremy. Relinquishing control
to someone that I know I can trust... the idea has always
been a massive turn-on for me. I trust you more than anyone
I've ever known in my life. I know that you will take the
control that I offer you, and use it for my own good. I know
that you will not abuse it."
"I've never been good at making decisions," Amy continued.
"Most of the decisions I have made in life ultimately turn
out to backfire on me. It has been that way for years. I
want... I want you to make my decisions... for me."
"The truth is, Jeremy, I have never been happier than I
have during these six weeks that I have been here. In fact,
this is the first time in my whole, entire life that I can
truthfully say that I actually AM happy. I enjoy being with
you, Jeremy, and I especially enjoy submitting to you."
"I have always been naturally submissive and obedient,"
Amy told me. "Even when I was young, everyone always said
what a polite, little girl I was. I never once talked back
to my parents or any other adult, for that matter. My
parents will tell you that I barely even cried when I was a
baby. I always said _please_ and _thank you_ when I was
little, and I got gratification out of making others happy."
"As I grew up and I learned about sex, and how much I
enjoy it, I naturally became a submissive female. But when
you are young - fresh out of high school and college age -
and you are submissive, the wrong people can take advantage
of you and your good nature. That is what happened to me."
"I have told you about one of my ex-boyfriends, Jeremy...
he used to _rent me out_ to others for a day or two at a
time. He would charge people money - complete strangers,
even - and then send me over to their house or hotel room,
and I was expected to have sex with them. That... he did
not care about me or my well-being. It made me angry,
actually, and then I went through an endless string of bad
relationships where things just kept getting worse."
"I lived with a dominant couple for awhile - a husband
and wife, and I was their house slave. They were much older
than me. That ended horribly. I married a black man, Eddie,
mostly because being with a black man made me feel even more
submissive. That ended horribly, too. Everything always
ended horribly, mostly because nothing was ever RIGHT to
begin with. I was angry at life; I was mad, upset... and
instead of being submissive, which is what I truly am and
always should be, I put up a shield and became aggressive."
"And when you first came to the island six weeks ago," I
said to her, "you saw an 18-year-old girl in Lindsay who was
scared and intimidated by all of the older women around her,
and the whole theme of this place and what she knew it
represented... and you wanted to take advantage of her just
as others had taken advantage of you at the very same age."
A lone tear seeped down Amy's face, but she glanced away
to hide it from me. I reached out and cupped her chin,
though, and brought her gaze back in line with mine. Amy
sniffed her nose, then nodded her head in response.
"This is why I do not want to see the dominant side of
your personality ever again, Amy. It is not who you are, or
who you want to be. It is disruptive and hurtful to others.
You wanted to take an innocent girl - a virgin, noless - and
scar her just as others have scarred you. You did not care
about the long-term ramifications that your words, and
especially your actions, were having on her."
Amy was sobbing now. "Yes, it's true." She hung her head
in shame and repeated, "It's true..."
"Obviously you could sense that Lindsay had a submissive
side to her personality, but you should have introduced her
to the lifestyle in a much safer and more controlled way," I
scolded Amy. "You told the girl you were taking her back to
Cincinnati with you, and giving her to a group of five black
men for them to use. That wasn't right, Amy."
"You should be sorry."
Amy sniffed her nose and pined, "At least Lindsay has the
proper guidance and is on the right track now. You have let
Lindsay be submissive, Jeremy, and allowed her to explore
that side of herself with you. You... you do a much better
job of dominating her than I ever could."
"I don't want you to tell anyone else about this, Amy,"
were my strict words for her. "I do not want you to repeat
this conversation to anyone else. Trish would probably be
very upset if she heard this. I know you have been getting
along with her lately, but if Trish knew you treated Lindsay
the way you did as a means to seek some sort of revenge for
your own pain in life... that would make Trish horribly mad.
I've never seen Trish mad, but she would fly off the handle.
It would probably make Devon mad, too, for that matter."
"I'm not really that way!" Amy cried, defending herself.
"I just... I'm happy now. I'm happy. I have been taking my
medicine, and I believe it is helping a lot. I have not had
a drastic mood swing or disturbance since you took me to see
the doctor. Most of all, though... I'm with you. I'm with
you, Jeremy! That... that is the best medicine of all."
The young woman wiped away a heavy influx of tears and
added, "I know I can trust you with anything. I know you
would never hurt me, although," Amy reached back and palmed
her burning ass, saying, "that paddling was kind of painful."
She forged a smile and cooed, "That was a good kind of pain,
though... the right type of pain. I deserved it. But I know
you would never hurt me, or take advantage of me, Jeremy.
You... you have my best interests at heart." She paused,
then mused, "You have everyone's best interests at heart."
"Can't you see the big picture, though?" Amy declared. "I
love you, Jeremy! I love you! You... you're the first and
only man who has actually taken an interest in me as a human
being. You are the first and only man who ever wanted to sit
down and get to know me as a person... talk to me like I am
someone meaningful and important. You... you listened to my
thoughts and problems, and all you ever wanted to do was help.
There was never anything in it for you, other than the desire
to give me the help and guidance that you felt I needed."
"There actually was something in it for me all along," I
corrected her. "I had an ulterior motive. I did all these
nice things, sweetheart, because I wanted something very
badly from you. I wanted it more than you would ever know."
Amy appeared puzzled. "What's that?"
With that, Amy began sobbing uncontrollably. She lost it.
"YOU KEEP ASKING ME WHY!" Amy exclaimed, her emotions now
reaching a fever pitch. "WHY do I want to submit to you?
That is WHY right there! You brought my submissive side out
from hiding with your warm nature and kindness, and now I
just want to throw myself at you! I want to curl up in your
arms, Jeremy, and I never want to leave them! I want to give
up all power and control, and let you make the decisions for
me, because I only feel safe and happy when I am with you..."
"I'm your protector."
"You're my knight in shining armor. You came to the
castle on your white horse, and rescued me."
I glanced downward for a moment and found myself lost in
thought. Amy and I must have been the sight right now. She
was in my lap, wearing what had become a disheveled French
maid's uniform with her backside exposed, its skin a fiery
shade of red. I had on a dress shirt but no pants to go with
them, and of course Amy's mascara and general appearance was
now in shambles thanks first to her punishment ordeal, then
the heartfelt discussion we were having right now that
brought even more tears and raw emotions for her to digest.
Amy was the eager submissive who would do anything to
please, yet I was the reluctant dominant. Yes, I was
reluctant. This was all so new to me, and I was still
learning. Even though there were things I found myself
doing to Amy that made me uncomfortable and squeamish,
her love and devotion for me - and the fact that she
encouraged and welcomed it all - made me forge on.
In the process, perhaps I was being introduced to a side
of my own personality and demeanor that I never even knew
existed until meeting this beautiful and remarkable woman?
"I will probably only dominate you one or two times a
week to start," I informed her. Amy smiled and nodded her
head at me as I continued, "Kristanna is going to want to
dominate and play with you as we move forward in our
relationship and possible marriage with you down the road."
"Don't marry me just to marry me, and say it's so," Amy
requested. "I don't necessarily need to be married to you
or Kristanna. I am simply happy being your submissive. I
can go the rest of my life and be nothing more than your
submissive - and I would be the happiest girl alive."
"You're going to be my wife one day. One day very soon."
Amy brought her hand to her midriff, rubbing it over and
across the crinkly fabric of her French maid uniform. "I
would love to cook and clean for you, Jeremy, and do chores
around the house. That... it would make me happy. It would
give me a daily purpose, and structure. I NEED structure in
my life. You... you can't expect Louisa to be around
forever, right? Can you? I would cook and clean for
Kristanna, and even Devon and Trish as well. I would... I
would love to be the maid. YOUR maid. The type of maid who
gets down and scrubs the floor, then finds herself over your
knee later that same day for missing a spot." Those words,
not surprisingly, caused my cock to get hard again...
"You're going to be content and satisfied if I dominate
you - treat you rough and talk down to you - only once or
twice a week?" I confirmed. "You're fine with that, Amy? I
do not know I could do more than that, at least to start.
Maybe in the future it will be more, but right now all I
have in me are one or two times a week."
Amy smiled. "I will be submissive to you, Jeremy... 24
hours a day, seven days a week... 365 days a year, for the
absolute rest of my life. I will ALWAYS be submissive to
you. What way you decide to treat me in return will be
up to you. Whether you treat me like your loving wife -
a la Kristanna, or a naughty, bratty slut," Amy smiled
again, then pointed toward her soiled G-string upon the
floor and finished the sentence, "with a pair of used panties
stuffed in her mouth, I will love you, and I will be happy."
"I love you as well, Amy Kathleen [Last Name]," was my
proclamation, using all three of her names for an added
flare. I found her lips with my own, and kissed her. "I
love you more than you could ever possibly realize."
When I brought both hands to her ass and squeezed it,
Amy's entire body tensed and she hissed in response. She
must have felt so incredibly vulnerable and exposed down
there. But that, quite frankly, was not my concern. I
kneaded and prodded her backside with my hands, cupping
and squeezing the smoldering flesh with reckless abandon.
"And I am going to take care of you, and protect you, from
this point forward," I promised her.
Amy was suddenly beaming with delight as I cradled her in
my arms, then stood up from the chair. She hooked her own
arms around my neck, then placed the side of her face upon
my shoulder and sighed contently. I took a couple of steps,
but then eased downward and gently set Amy upon the floor.
When I motioned for her to recline onto her back, she did.
"And I will follow you, Jeremy, and obey you from this
point forward," was her own promise to me.
Those eyes of hers were gleaming and full of love, but
soon they became wide as saucers as I took the panties and
jammed them back into her mouth. I placed my finger across
her lips and when Amy opened wide - perhaps on instinct -
I drove it deep until she was gagging on the panties.
I did not say a word as I grabbed both of her legs and
spread them far apart. I then hooked them around my torso
but Amy did the rest, linking her feet together and holding
tight. An instant later, I entered her in the missionary
position and immediately began a hard, rigorous thumping.
The red-head never once took her gaze off of me as I
dutifully thrusted my cock in-and-out of her sweet pussy.
Still, I did not say a word. I did not even utter a sound.
With Amy's own mouth completely muzzled, the only sounds
throughout the suite were that of our bodies bumping
violently together in a hard, blissful harmony.
But Amy began to scream through her gag when I used my
right hand to slap her left breast. I did it again, then
used a back-handed motion for the other breast. I reached
for the halter-like top of her French maid uniform and
pulled it down, fully exposing those breasts (and ripping
the fabric in the process). I slapped them both repeatedly,
and now Amy madly rocked her face from side-to-side.
Even with the panties still firmly entrenched in her
mouth, I lowered my lips and kissed her there anyway. When
Amy started to moan and pant, I moved my hand and brought it
crashing down hard across her upturned ass. That was the
final straw. Amy went rigid, and had an orgasm.
I too, had reached the end of the line. I buried my cock
in Amy and let my senses go, my body literally exploding as
if a fireworks show was happening. I felt dizzy and my mind
was in a haze, and I nearly passed out, but I snapped back to
reality quick and now fiercely hugged Amy to me as my own
orgasm subsided. I did not want to ever let her go, either.
"Thank you, Jeremy," Amy sobbed, her body again trembling,
as I withdrew the panties from her mouth. "Oh God... thank
you so much. Thank you, Jeremy! Thank you! Thank you!"
She returned the embrace, her arms tight and secure around
me. "I love you, Jeremy! I love you!"
Exhausted, I raised my head up long enough so I could make
eye contact with Amy. My demeanor had flipped yet again, and
now I spoke with authority in demanding, "Address me properly."
"I love you, Master! Oh God, I love you so much!..."
<<<- End of Chapter 39 ->>>
PLEASE NOTE: Only three more chapters left in the story after
this! The big finale draws even closer...