{If you’re just starting to read now, here’s the beginning of this story.  After that beginning, it’s all “i imagine” by the numbers.}

My room is sparse.  i decorated it myself, mostly, and i love it.  Like a college dorm room, there are two twin beds, each with its own tiny closet and dresser drawers, built in desks and two chairs.  i share the room with a woman who lives so far away she’s hardly ever here, which makes it affordable and mostly private.

i have a recliner too, one i curl up in sometimes and rock.  The multi-colored round rug on the floor is one i made, and the pictures are ones i chose.  The bedclothes are supplied by the Center and are simple.  The colors vary from visit to visit just depending on whoever does the laundry and remakes the bed, so i’m pleased to see this time they’re a lovely violet color.  That’s only one of many little things that we – the submissives – aren’t allowed to control, a reminder that this is not about us – not about me and my whims and wishes.

My pictures, books, even the candles and few decorations on the single set of shelves had to be approved, and i had to explain to a small committee why i thought they were appropriate for this space before i was allowed to bring them.

The Dominants’ rooms are luxurious, large with king size beds and lavish shower and bath spaces.  Sometimes, i’ve been invited to sleep or play there, and it’s a real treat.  But my space here keeps me focused on why i’m here and i appreciate that.

i shower quickly.  The hot water isn’t limited, but the time is.  Dry myself quickly, apply lotion, and place a towel on the chair before i settle at the desk.  My journal is in the desk drawer where i’d left it.

i glance through a few pages from my last visit before i pick up my favorite pen and begin writing about this time.  The words flow quickly, and i could have written longer, but a bell rings – a lovely Buddhist type bell – and a voice over the intercom says, “30 minutes, olivia.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” i say, out of habit really. i finish just the sentence i’m writing, put the book and the pen away, and arrange myself on the floor to begin meditation.

“Offering myself.”

“Offering myself.”

The words alone take me to a submissive space, and combined with the position, i can feel myself opening to this man.  Who the hell is he?  Martin.  Sir Martin.  That’s really all i know about him, and he has already gotten so deep into me that i ~

“Offering myself.”

“Offering myself.”

But really.  This is definitely the most intense beginning to my time here.  i am so incredibly hot.  And wet.  Even though i just took a shower.  Surely, after dinner, he’ll –

“Offering myself”

“Offering myself”

And that’s how it goes, for the next 30 minutes.  i don’t know what Sir Martin’s intention was, but by the time the door opens behind me, i’m mentally relaxed and calm, and physically about two minutes away from orgasm.

“Very nice,” he says.

i smile, pleased at the praise, but remember to wait for the command before i get up.

On my feet again, i see that he’s changed clothes, from jeans to khakis and another starched looking button down collar shirt, but light green instead of white.  The cuffs are rolled about three-quarters of the way up and his belt is brown.

i’d like to touch him, to rub my body against him, but, “Shoes?” he says.  Quickly, i open my closet door and select a pair of heels that i think will be high enough to please, and not too uncomfortable to walk in.  i hold them out for his approving nod before i slip them on my feet.  “Walk for me,” he says.

i walk, slower than when i was barefoot, and of course the movement of my body changes, my hips sway more, my legs look slimmer, butt’s tighter, there’s no doubt, heels are my friend.  “Very nice,” he says, and adds, “Maybe tomorrow, we’ll add a butt plug,” which startles me, but i smile and say, “Whatever pleases you, Sir,” and am only a bit surprised at how much i mean it.

He attaches the leash to the back ring of my collar this time, telling me he wants me to walk a bit ahead of him so he can watch me move.  He goes to the closet – apparently, he hadn’t missed the array of toys, whips, crops and paddles hanging there.  He selects a riding crop.

“Here, come out in the hall,” he says, “I want you to practice a minute.  Yes, now,” placing me about two feet in front of him, still in easy reach of the crop, he says, “we’re going to start walking real slowly.  When I want you to go a bit faster, I’ll tap you on the right side.  When I want you to slow down, I’ll tap you on the left side.,” and he taps me lightly to demonstrate his words.  “Now, let’s try it.  Start out slow.”

Obediently, feeling a bit foolish, i begin walking very slowly down the hall.  i feel a light tap on my right flank, and pick up the paces.  A tap on the left slows me down.  “Good girl,” he says, and i feel foolish because really, there’s nothing hard about it.

But then he says, “Oh, I almost forgot, and reaches in his left pocket, comes out with something – what – “Nipple clamps,” he says, with a big happy smile.   i swallow the protest that almost gets away from me – no, seriously?  Nipple clamps now?

“Pull on your nipples, please, go ahead and get them ready,” and tentatively i do, but, “No, harder than that, you don’t want me to have to do it,” he says.  “Try pinching harder, I want them really extended.”  He watches a minute, then takes the right one, and begins to suck on it, making me gasp with pleasure – until he pulls away and attaches one of the clamps to it.

“There,” he says, obviously pleased.  “Look how pretty?”  There’s a feather and some beads hanging from it, and a light chain that attaches to the other clamp.  He quickly uses his mouth to finish preparing the other nipple.  i’m gasping with pain, it rolls over me and i can only breathe, waiting for it to roll back away a little bit.   He’s clearly delighted with the effect.

“Come on,” he says, taking my hand, “let’s go back in your room a minute so you can see how good it looks.”

He puts me in front of him, pulls my arms behind my back, attaching the wrist cuffs together.  With my arms pinned behind me, it is more difficult to balance, but it thrusts my breasts up and forward, and even i can see why he’s pleased.  In front of the mirror, he holds me from behind, letting me lean against him a bit.

The feeling of his clothes against my back is lovely.  i’d like to caress him with my hands, since they’re pinned behind my back, but he’s done it so the palms are facing each other.

“Watch your face,” he says.  He begins to caress my mouth, working his thumb into it and back out, and i feel the heat growing between my legs.  Then he withdraws it, “Look at how you respond to that,” he says, and his hand dips between my legs.  “Feel how hot you are.  I could make you cum in about a minute,” he says.  He makes me moan, the pleasure between my legs masking the pain in my nipples, but then with his other hand, he tugs lightly on the chain between my nipples, and i cry out with pain.  His hand between my legs rubs my clit and i shiver with pleasure then one finger, two fingers slide inside me.

“Look at yourself,” he says.  “Look at how submissive you are, and how beautiful it makes you.” i don’t think i’m beautiful, but i see what he’s saying.  My eyes looking back at me are wide, intense, and a bit wild looking.   “Such a good girl,” he says, giving another tug to the chain.  This time, i cry out and he smiles, slides his thumb in my mouth.  “Good girl,” he says.  “Hurts, doesn’t it?”  i nod, sucking his thumb carefully.

He pulls his thumb from my mouth, withdraws the fingers from my pussy, making me whimper with disappointment.  “It’s supposed to hurt,” he says lightly.  “Thank me.”

“Thank you, Sir,” i say, obediently, and again am shocked to realize i mean it.

“Now,” he says, with his sweetest smile, “let’s go to dinner.  In front of me, please.  Remember, a tap on the right means go faster, a tap on the left means go slower.”  And now i discover that the crop can carry a bite even when it’s used lightly.  With a gasp, i start walking, hindered by the pain that increases as the chain between my nipples moves with each step, the reduced balance with my arms still pinned behind me, and wearing 4-inch heels.  i think it’s going to be a long walk to dinner.