textfiles/sex/EROTICA/T/the_pool.txt

~From: Janine
                                    
     "I want you OUT of the pool, and into the dungeon NOW!"  The bellow
of his voice carried to me on the mild warm breeze shocked me out of my
languid reverie.

     "Yes, Master.  The water was warm and soothing, but I see that
you're angry at me for wasting time here in the pool when I should be
serving you." The proper attitude for a submissive.  Maybe not the
attitude that one would expect from a professional nurse, mother of two,
and wife of another.
 
     "Not angry at all, little one."

     Again that appelation - "little one." Though he used it on me
often, I couldn't help but feel a flush of youthful embarrassment at
hearing it.  Like making me feel like a little girl caught at something
naughty, that voice saying those words always made me feel childish.

     "I am demanding, I am forceful.  I am many things, but with you,
I'll never be angry.  My voice was raised only in tone to get your
attention and remind you of your relationship to me."

     As I climb the ladder up and over the rim of the pool, I try not to
look you directly in the face, but I know that you're watching me
closely.  When my feet touch the grass at the base of the ladder, you
turn and I know that it's my duty to follow you into the cabana.

     Following you at a short distance, I hear you speaking to me again.

     "Long before I stepped out to the pool, I'd gone into your cabana
and set up the restraints that I would use on you, little one.  Then,
peering out of the cabana window, I had relished the sight of you in the
pool, lazily sunning yourself on the float that kept your nudity
deliciously visible to me above the rim of the pool.

     "What you didn't know, little one, is that I was there the entire
time that you and Redneck were playing out your little tableau.  I
didn't interfere --- because I felt that it was his due to do to you
whatever he wished."

     Realization that my Master had caught me being unfaithful with
another instantly makes my insides clench up with fear.  Redneck had
come to me - love in his heart - and because I reciprocated that love, I
let him be with me.  Alone, I thought, we shared love in a fleeting yet
intense way that even now, left it's indelible imprint on my soul.

     Even my body still thrummed with his touch.

     And with fear of my Master's reprisals.

     "That I enjoyed his use of your body would be an understatement.
It is also true that knowing I would use your unfaithfulness to me
against you made it even more pleasurable watching you and he together.

     "So now that he is gone, I come to the pool and order you out of
it.  Enough of this soft love for you, little one.  It's time to pay the
piper for the soft music you've danced to for so long."

     "Assume the position and wait for me."
 
     Without further orders from you, I reach behind myself and unfasten
the top of my swimsuit.  Pulling my top away from my breasts, I note
that you aren't really looking at me in the way I would have expected.
There is no expectation in your eyes.  You seem bored.  That was not the
reaction I had come to expect from a man who saw me this way - but that
was one of the things that had attracted me to my Master most strongly.

     His strength.

     My lover, Redneck, had not been so cold and objective.  When he had
taken the top from my body, I could see the changes come over him
rapidly.

     It is very disconcerting to be bearing myself this way, and know
that it has little or no effect on this man to whom I'm submitting.

     When I pull the top off over my head, my long wet hair gets tangled
in the thin strap and I pull it off with a little effort.  I do not want
to delay your will in any way for fear of what might be my punishment.

     I hook my fingers into my bottoms, and slip them quickly down over
my thighs, and legs, stepping gingerly out of them and tossing them off
onto the little table just inside the door.

     Turning toward you, I take the few short steps to your feet, kneel
quickly onto the straw mat floor, and sit on my ankles.  Crossing my
hands in the small of my back, I lean all the way forward onto my knees,
and push slightly forward to lay my face on the floor in front of my
knees - which raises my bottom just slightly.

     And I wait.  In the position that you have taught me.  For your
next wish.

     I know that I've often spent many minutes in this position while
you pondered my fate, so I don't expect a quick resolution to my plight.
I don't know how angry you are, and I don't know what you think you want
to do to me to punish me for my infidelity.

     So I wait.
 
     Michael, looking at me in my submissive position, gazes at me coldly.
There is the vestige of a smile on his face and I can almost hear his
thoughts.

~From: Michael

     It is the moment that I relish most of all.  The moment when you
come to me and kneel in the position of submission before me --- of your
own free will, of your own volition.  Kneeling there, face to the floor,
hands in the small of your back, I can see the expectation in your body,
and the look on your face that shows me the depth to which you would
like me to take you.

     From this point, my face is a mask.  I don't let you see my
enjoyment.  It will take much more than your simple submission to make
me reward you with a smile, or a look of joy.  You will pay dearly for
that pleasure.

     I step around behind you, and reaching over to the table next to
the door where you'd thrown your discarded swim wear, (to cover the
items you surely saw there?), I select the ankle cuffs and bar as the
first to be placed on your body.

     One sharp slap against your rump brings your bottom up to the
height I wish it to be.  We've done this dance before, and you know what
my will is.  I only need to give you the appropriate cues and you react
appropriately.  This isn't the first time I've ordered your body into
position voicelessly, and the sharp smack is obeyed instantly as you
raise your bottom as high as you can, while keeping your face on the
floor, and your hands behind you.

     Taking each ankle in turn, I wrap the heavy leather cuffs around
your lithe and graceful feet, and I fasten them to you tightly slipping
a small golden padlock through the devices to lock them onto your body.
Taking the heavy metal bar in my hands, I hold it for a moment savoring
its weight and knowing that once attached, it will expose the flower of
your sex to me in beautiful vulnerability.  Of all the women I have ever
known, only a few have had truly beautiful sex blossoms.  Yours is the
most beautiful I have ever seen.

     Clipping the bar to your left ankle, I push with some force to push
your foot far to the side while taking your other ankle in hand and
pulling it outward to the opposite side.  When your knees move to
accommodate the spreading of your feet, I smile at the way your sex
again opens to me.

     Clipping the other side of the bar to your other ankle, I reach for
your wrists (still crossed in the small of your back) and I easily pull
you up to an unsteady upright kneeling stance --- feet wide apart to the
point where it's difficult for you to keep your balance.

     "Hands up, Jani."  


     You comply, and I put one arm around your middle and lift you clear
off the floor, moving your whole body under the chains and cuffs hanging
from the ceiling.  Turning you around slightly, I pull down one, then
the other of the chains, and buckle the wrist restraints attached to the
end of each onto your arms.  The loose chains tinkle against each other
melodramatically, but I have already seen the change in you.  The moment
the first band goes about your wrist, you are changed inexorably into
the slave that your nature would have you always be.

     Gone is the wife and mother.  Gone is the intelligent social
worker, nurse, and friend.  Gone is the church goer, and environmental
activist.  All of a sudden, I have only an instinct driven animal in
chains.  An animal that is alive and ready.  Willing and desirous of
what is to come.

     Moving to the side of the room, I take a strain on the chains that
are anchored there, and with more effort than I would ever admit to you,
I pull down on the chains together, lifting your arms up toward the
ceiling.  Not in the X spread that you seem to thrill to so much more,
just straight up to the ceiling where they will be held tightly against
your weight.

     Anchoring the chains back to a quick release mechanism attached to
the wall, I walk the five steps across the room to your form ( you are
able to stand with your feet flat on the floor, and just a shade of play
in the chains so that you can twist and turn slightly in response to my
attentions) and I run my hand across your rib cage as I step behind you,
putting both arms around your torso.  From that position behind you,
having all of you exposed to me and vulnerable in every way, I choose to
first titillate you in small ways.  I start by rubbing your torso gently
from hip to armpit, around the front under your breasts and down over
your belly back out to your hips.

     It is a sensory pleasure for me --- feeling your skin this way.
Taking this minor liberty with your body and knowing that you want this
even more than I do.  

     Two times, three.  I enjoy the way your tummy jumps each time my
fingers touch you there and your body jerks and twitches back and forth
in response to my fingernails tracing arcs across your skin.  Overtly,
you twist and turn to escape my touch.  Secretly, I know, you want me to
go on and on.

     Finally, I bring both of my hands up your body and cup your breasts
with my hands as my forefingers and thumbs squeeze your nipples erect.

     Quickly and effortlessly, I have your body singing with expectation
of what is to come.  I slip around you, to where you can see me, and I
take the little short-thonged cat'o'nine tails from the table.  Once,
twice, I slap it lightly against the table.  It makes a wonderfully
sharp slapping sound as each of the twelve fifteen-inch strands of
leather snaps down smartly against the wood.

     Slowly - gently - I lightly flick the strands of the whip up
against your torso.  No power, no speed.  I just let the strands touch
you lightly here - there.  I smile inwardly when the light touch of the
thongs against your belly makes you react as though you were being
tickled again.

     "Keep your head up." And my whip flicks upward and I swat lightly
from beneath at your breasts.  Such glorious breasts they are.  C-cups
on a perfectly athletic 36 inch torso.  I certainly envied your husband
when I first met you both.  Little did I know that all of my dreams and
wishes would some day come true.

     Moving to a position to your right, I swung the cat first left to
right, and then right to left a bit more briskly and the impact of the
thongs against your belly, and the small of your back began to make a
more acceptable sound.

     Finally, with not another word, I brought my hand all the way up
and back and with a nasty whooshing sound through the quiet air of the
room, I struck you in earnest for the first time.  Across the middle of
your body, just above your navel, I saw the lovely red marks spring up
almost instantly as each thong left its mark glowing warmly on your
flesh.

     Following through on my swing, I wound my body around to the left
then unwound snapping my arm around forcefully back - lashing you across
the middle of your back with my stroke.  Again to the left, I struck you
lower on your stomach about level with your navel, and this second
impact against your flesh was even harder than the first --- instantly
bringing up red marks for each of the thongs that hit you.


     Backhand, forehand, backhand and fore.  Lower, higher, tummy, ass,
belly, back --- everywhere but your breasts.

     Each time my arm cycles through the front/back pattern, I can see
the anticipation grow in you.  More and more, you present your chest to
me in a forlorn hope that the whip will touch you there.  Straining now
against the chains that hold your arms up, and the bar that keeps your
legs spread, you fight forlornly to get me to strike the tender flesh of
your chest.

     After twenty strokes, I pause and move around to stand in front of
you again.  Turning my back to you, I test the motion of the cat by
flicking it downward letting its momentum take the thongs around in a
loop upward with a snap.

     I turn back toward you and you realize what my tentative swipes
with the cat mean.  You tense, knowing what's coming, but there is
little you can do to defend your most private and sensitive flesh.

     My first attempt to snap the whip against your pussy misses its
mark and the thongs graze the inside of your right thigh.  Aiming better
on the second try, I flick the whip perfectly down and when it snaps
back up, it impacts directly on the softest parts of you between your
legs.

     Snap, snap, snap.  Valiantly you try to bring your knees together
to protect your pussy, but it is all in vain.  Twisting your torso
doesn't help and suddenly I see you jerk down on the chains and raise
both feet from the floor.  With effort, you twist and turn yourself away
from the whip, so, now that your left side is facing me, I begin the
back and forth slicing motions that I began with --- from the opposite
side of your body.

     Obviously, you enjoy this more than the pussy flicks because I see
you again try to offer up your breasts to the touch of the whip.  But
again, I ignore the offering.