Protocols

It’d been weeks since she’d taken control of me. In the back of my mind was a sense of need (yeah the need manifested itself elsewhere, what a dirty mind you have reader). Sometimes I could seduce her into it, though it might seem odd that you’d slyly adjust your voice and behavior to see if you could get yourself slapped silly. And given my generally attentive nature it took lots of finesse to try to evoke that side of her. I flat out had no luck with any of my gambits. Nor did I really feel that deprived, the love of a good woman, in any fashion, should be enough for any man.

That day I was relaxing in chair doing nothing with my eyes closed, an art at which I was a master. I felt her nails gently move through my hair and shivered. Opening my eyes I saw she had my collar in he hand. Another hand’s finger was on her lips telling me to not say a single word.

“Do you remember my little toy man the hoops I used to make you jump through.”

Sure did. Fairly early on when she would don the role of owner she decided to set up protocols that defined my every movement and act. Partly she did it because it clearly separated my times as property. Partly it gave her an excuse to punish me. Not that she really need an excuse to play the Devil Woman. At times she relished giving me a lecture and letting me know it was all my ‘fault.’ I’d wilt and blush before her sternness but I’d also sink ever deeper into an erotic space that thrilled me.

“Full protocol tonight, bet you can’t remember. But I’ll give you a good remedial education.” She left the room. I stripped, put my collar on and crawled to where I knew she’d be.

Finding her feet I brushed me cheek against each one, then kissed it. Then still on my knees I bowed, arms extended forward holding me up. And said: “This slave awaits the command of [sorry you don’t get to know what I called her].”

We eventually grew tired of this. But it had been long enough that I was feeling as subdued by it as I first had. I just knelt there, waiting. Waiting was sometimes the worst part. Would I be there a minute or five? Had I don’t it to her specifications or made an error. What would she do to me when she chose to acknowledge my presence?

“Grovel!” She was using a curt tone of pure command. Thankfully I knew exactly what she wished. I licked her shoes and between each stroke I thanked her. This is tougher than it sounds. In this kind of worship I could easily forget to thank her and would feel a whap across my backside.

She didn’t hold me there long before I heard her say “Present!”

I hated this one. I knelt upright before her. My hands on my knees my palms out and looked her straight in the face. She made it terrible. She was wearing the silver glasses again. Do you know what it is like to see yourself naked and humbled? Unable to read her I had no way to know if I’d done it right. The usually sardonic smile was replaced with tightly compressed lips. Part of me wanted to ask if she were pleased but experience had taught me to never speak without permission when she was like this.

“On your back!”

I was there too often to forget; besides there weren’t any trick words like kowtow. She stood over me and pressed one shoe, then the other into my face wiping the bottoms against my cheerk.

“Extend!”

I stretched my arms and legs out. She pulled her chair to my side the back of it facing me.

Then one shoe pressed into my thigh. Another shoe into the other thigh. One of her hands was one the chair.

One of the shoes moved to my belly and ground in a bit. I raised a hand. I stopped it from reaching out to her but “¦

She slapped it down with a cane.

“You forgot your protocol. Yes, I know I’ve consented to tie you up. But you know the rules, slave man. Tonight if you raise an arm or leg you’ll pay for it. And not just being corrected with my cane. That useless bit of pink meat I see between your legs will remind you of the rules. I’ll remember your every infraction and then will stroll across you and “¦ you know what happens to a bad slave’s cock don’t you?”

She bent down and slapped me.

“I’ve stepped on you twice, what did you forget.” I had. With each step I was to thank her. As much as she liked walking on me I knew I’d need to be very thankful this night.