Putting the Sub back in Suburb Ch. 02

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I was in shock I suppose. My body was quivering, my nerves on fire. I had never been that excited in my life. There was a point past which pleasure becomes pain, and yet when I reached it Enna was there.

I looked into her eyes as I wanted to scream my safe word, to scream “spoilsport” and end it because it was too much. I looked into her eyes, and suddenly I wanted her to see me helpless. I wanted her to see me whimper, and beg, to scream. I wanted her to see me in so much torment my body couldn’t describe it as either pleasure or pain and offer it to her.

She was humming along to the radio. I think it was Rough Trade’s “All touch and no contact”. She occasionally put her hand on my thigh and complimented me on how wonderful I had been, and how proud she was of me.

Her fetish wear sale, she had assisted me with a Partilight candle sale, and I agreed to help her with her thing. Her thing turned out to be fetish wear. I had my daughters dance teacher lead me into a fetish wear house party as her demonstrator model on a leash.

Some of the women in the room had students in my own classroom. Some of them had children in my own daughter’s dance classes for a decade. Others had daughters who had been in my Girl Guide group, or had been my assistant leaders. Now they had seen me on a leash, and laughed over their wine glasses as various vibrators and floggers were used on me to reduce me to whimpering wreckage.

I had been the Ice Bitch, miss goody two shoes. The woman with a stick up her ass that never got let in on all the off colour jokes or nasty gossip because all I would do was ask if that was really appropriate for where we were, and they had seen me on all fours wagging a tail that ran to a plug one of them wanted to see up my ass.

I felt the collar at my throat. 40mm bronze, solid and rose gold. It was real. I felt it locked around me like armour. Armour from who I was. Armour not from what I had done for Enna, but from the Ice Bitch I was. The wife, mother, teacher, volunteer was uncollared and half alive. Full of fear, empty of sensation, full of pride, empty of hope.

I felt the collar at my throat. Rose gold and an ugly truth. Collared women were property. Property didn’t get to feel guilty. Property felt shame only if they failed to please. Property felt pride only if they pleased.

We were back at Enna’s house. I carried bin after bin from her jeep to her garage. Putting them where I was told, and feeling all my doubts and fears wash away every time she said off hand “Good girl”, or “That’s right, pet”.

I felt numb. It was all too much. I had no context. No box in my head to put this. This didn’t fit with who I was. If I took off the collar would I love this, hate this, deny this, run from this?

Miss Enna gave me a hug, her firm B cups pressing manisa escort into my G cups and making me wince as the pain from the nipple clamps is actually worse when you let them off, and persists for quite some time. She hugged me and my whole body just relaxed, the storm inside me turned into a song.

“You were so good my pet, but all good things must come to an end.” Miss Enna’s voice was soft, but her eyes were smiling with a kind of cat like cruelty. Not malice, just the uncomplicated joy a cat takes in a mouse between its paws.

The small screwdriver she took from her purse was the one that she used at the dance studio to tighten screws in the glasses of the girls or mothers. This was what she used to screw in the pin that locked my collar. It was where I could not reach it. This was a metal collar that someone locked on you, and someone else must release you from.

“Kneel pet. Time to take off the collar and send you home to hubby”

I knelt without thinking. She took my long red hair in her hand and used it to bow me forward, exposing the collar to her and the screwdriver that would free me from my collar.

I stopped breathing, My pulse hammered in my skull and my fists locked so tight I could feel the knuckles going white. Fear. Oh my god the fear.

“Spoilsport!” I screamed.

“Spoilsport, spoilsport, spoilsport!” I was sobbing now, clutching at her legs. Holding those long divine dance teacher legs as I kissed her knees, my tears making my face ugly and her tights wet.

She stepped back, chuckling softly. Now I was belly down on the ground, about two feet separates me from her comfortable flats and delectable ankles.

Her voice was mocking now. The playful tones she used to chivvy along generations of high strung dance students infused with something darker, deeper,, and far far crueler.

“Now now pet, safe words are for play. Play is over. Are you saying this isn’t play at all. Did my proper little school marm want to be my little pet, my naked little puppy?”

I crawled forward and kissd her flats, kissed the top, caressed her ankles and pressed my face to her instep to kiss the hollow of the side of her foot.

“Yes ma’am” I said.

She took her foot from my lips and placed it on the back of my neck, on the collar, pressing my face into the cold concrete of her carport.

“I have no need for a pet most days. Sometimes I need a servant to clean for me, to fetch and carry for me. Sometimes when I am in a bad mood I need someone to take it out on. Sometimes when I am bored, I want a dirty little thing to do dirty little things. I get bored easily pet. Given enough time, I will take everything from you. If you stay long enough everyone will know what you are for me.”

She pulled me up to my knees by my hair. I was kütahya escort looking up at her. She spoke all of my fears, not as a “maybe” but as an accepted fact. These were not things that might be, these were things she would do to me. If I stayed, she would take it all.

Who could say yes to that?

No free woman could accept that.

She held up the jewlers screwdriver and gave me the last command I should receive that night.

“Head forward so I can remove the collar. The game is over, and beyond this it is only real.”

Her command was firm, but her eyes were twinkling a challenge.

My spirit chose that moment to remember my will, the cold iron thing that drove me past my limits to achieve everything I have earned in this life. My will may have been the thing that caused me to be called Ice Bitch, but say this for it. Once my will has decided I will do a thing, nothing can stop me.

I slapped the screwdriver from her hand.

She slapped my face, snarling. Bending my head back by my hair she loudly prepared to spit, and defiantly I opened my mouth. She spat into my mouth and I showed it on my tongue and then swallowed it.

She kissed me then. Dropping to her knees beside me she kissed me so hard I thought I might lose my tongue to her own.

Hungry as she had made me, Miss Enna’s cold was a passion as strong as my own or stronger behind a control that did not weaken with lust, but feed off of it.

She pulled her top off and then her bra. My hands were all over her, hair, neck, shoulders, arms. Each inch of her skin was joy to me. She pulled my mouth from her neck where I was nuzzling like a love sick teenager and her hard little nipple was offered to my mouth and I began to kiss and suck.

Her breasts were much smaller than mine, but perfection. Their shape was perfection, like some Grecian statue, cold marble perfection and cupping one in hand the curved perfection of a goddess, while nursing at the other like my life depended on it. Sucking her perfect nipples and hearing her breath catch, I felt the difference.

My body, curves too lush, skin too pale, hair too bright, hunger too strong, control too weak. I was a caricature. She was perfect. Like a queen, like a goddess. She moved with grace that left me feeling like a bumbling cow. She controlled me effortlessly, while her merest touch shattered my every control and reserve.

Where I was a whimpering wreck under her lips and tongue, she was looking at me with heavy lidded eyes and superior smile as I begged without words not to be free.

She pushed me back to the ground.

Stretching to reach her purse, she ordered me coldly.

“If you go any farther, you do not go back. You will be mine. I will take everything from you. You understand that, don’t you pet”

She malatya escort was holding her camera on me. This was it. On the record. For real.

“Please Miss Enna. Please let me be your pet!” I begged.

She smiled. I watched her lips.

“Strip” She said. Not coldly now. Hungrily. I made that. I made her feel that. Suddenly I felt power.

Smiling. I got to my feet and undressed, coyly. I don’t know an elegant way to undress, but I took open joy in not just revealing myself to her, but displaying it.

She ran her free hand over her own breast and was playing with the nipple.

“Now, undress me”

I crawled to her, cupping each foot to my cheek after kissing it. I took off her flats, but a small smack to my head told me to leave her ankle socks on.

Little white ankle socks with a pom pom on the back, and a pink stripe around the ankle cuff and the toe. I don’t know why that struck me as perfect. A touch of girl in the goddess who loomed above me.

I drew her tights down her legs. Starting to kiss at her hip bone, I trailed kisses down her thighs. My own curves are generous enough, but where my legs were thick and heavy, hers were lean long graceful curves carved by some sculptor to capture the essence of female goddess.

I kissed the hollow behind her knee and licked the sweat from it as I worked her tights over one foot at a time.

“Now my panties”

I should have known she would have dressed for a fetish wear party. My own granny panties were a mute testament to the pathetic nature of my own life before tonight, but her delicate black lace shone against the white of her skin like a ribbon of darkness through a dream of light.

I ran my legs up the long line of her muscles until I held the thin waistband of her panties in my hands. I pressed my lips to her panty covered sex and kissed it gently, reverently. The delicate scent of her, a mix of hot pussy and roses, went to my head and took my thoughts.

I moaned and kissed her pussy deeply. She laughed low and throaty at my obvious weakness.

I pulled her panties down and she spread her legs with the grace and control of the goddess she was.

I looked up into her eyes, and asked her.

“Please, may your pet please your pretty pussy Miss Enna?

About ten minutes in, she dropped her phone. I guess I was teachable.

She took the collar off to send me home, but it does not matter. I am going to be hers for as long as she wants me. When she tires of me and discards me, I will still be hers, just a lost pet mewing pathetically for an owner that moved on.

As long as she will have me, I will serve her. I will try to hold on to my career, my family, my life, but ultimately, I know there is nothing I won’t do to please Miss Enna.

This is not how it is supposed to work. I know I am supposed to set limits and she would respect them. I cannot. I cannot deny her anything. This can only end in tears, but I will not turn back now. Not from her.

I have a safe word. But I would rather trust Miss Enna.

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