The Object of His Affection

Prologue

James met Debbie shortly after his high school graduation. She was a few years younger than he and the sister of a high school acquaintance. Despite their age difference, they hit it off as friends.

After leaving business school to pursue a career in programming, James created a contact data base program that became quite popular across many industries. After licensing the program and making a substantial fortune he went into semi-retirement, working only when he so chose.

Debbie, after completing high school, picked up a job as a sales person at a local appliance dealership: a job she held for several years. It was a good living, if not satisfying. Her co-workers were friendly, if not particularly interesting or intelligent and she had good benefits

Over the ensuing years, they would share their lives with each other, occasionally going to lunch or dinner and confiding in each other. Most often, they would spend long hours discussing their lives over the phone.

To say it was an odd friendship would be to minimize the truth of the matter. James had come to love her in ways that can only be described as "big brother-like", while still harboring a deep physical and emotional attraction for her. In short, he wanted her in his bed more than he had any other woman. In spite of his wants he had been certain to maintain their relationship from a distance, respectful of their deep and profound bond of friendship.

Debbie saw James as a ‘girlfriend’ with whom she could share her deepest, darkest desires and fears. She loved him very much and could not imagine a life without his friendship or sage advice. There was also a fierce attraction to James and she would often wonder at what a less chaste relationship might bring. Besides her attraction she also harbored a profound fear of the man. This was due, in part, to the fact that he knew her true nature, having spotted her submissive side some years ago. That coupled with his knowledge of her extremely suggestible and active libido was almost too frightening to bear. Beyond all that, she was rather fearful of the many terrible things he had described doing to women during their long conversations. Were it not for these factors, she would often muse, there could be something more between them.

The Object of His Affection – Awakening 1

James entered his lonely domicile, dropping his keys on the coffee table and heading to the kitchen for a much needed beer. As he passed through his living room, the phone rang. Picking up the phone, he checked the caller ID and saw that it was Debbie. Immediately, he clicked the "ON" button to receive her call.

"Hey, babe, how's it going?"

"Not bad, you?" she said.

"Same old."

The long breath on the other end told him that this would be a serious conversation. No doubt, it would be about her boyfriend, a man who he disliked despite never having met him. His past conversations with her had given light to the fact that her boyfriend was quite the unappealing sort.

"Uh oh, what did he do?" he asked in a flat tone.

"Damn it, he didn't do anything," she said. "It's what he wants to do."

He grinned. "Let me guess...he wants to tie you up, spank the hell out of you and fuck you up the ass, right?"

"Shut up." she told him. "But yeah, sort of..."

"I'm all ears,” he said, chuckling.

"Well," she began, "Tony told me that he wants to tie me up. Actually, he did once. Anyhow, it was not big deal, he just used a scarf on my wrists to tie my hands over my head."

"Um, in bed, I am assuming?" he asked.

"Yeah...anyhow, I broke the scarf," she told him. There was a long pause and then she said, ” Well, Tony wants to really tie me up. With ropes or chains or something."

James listened to her as she drew her next breath and stammered to say more. With a knowing grin he finally interjected, "So, you're afraid of it but you want it at the same time?"

"Yes," she whispered.

James was sure of where the conversation was headed. She was waiting for him to say something but he wanted her to go forward on her own, enjoying her struggle.

"Well, what do you think?" she finally asked, frustration in her voice.

"Go for it," he said. "Let him tie you up."

She growled at him, saying, "Fucker! You know it's not that easy for me."

"Okay, let me guess...you're afraid that if you are really tied up that you won't be able to stop him from doing things to you that you don't want to happen?”

Debbie took a deep breath, affirming his question with a grunt.

"Well, Deb, the way it goes is like this..." he began, "...ff you let someone tie you up, you are letting them have control over you and your body. So, anything that you don't want no longer matters."

"That's what I was thinking," she said. "What if he does things that I don't want to do?"

He sighed. He had been down this road with her a hundred times, explaining the dynamics of a BDSM relationship. She knew his thoughts on bondage and permissions given. Still, he felt compelled to go over them again.

"Debbie, if you let him tie you up, you are giving him license to do whatever he wishes,” he said. "It doesn’t matter what is said before hand...if you allow it you allow him anything he wishes to do to you."

They meandered off of the subject for a while, speaking of other factors in their lives. Eventually, it came back around to bondage and the possibilities that go with it.

"Deb...you're afraid he is going to fuck your ass. That's what this is about, isn't it?"

"Yes...I never let my ex-husband do it to me and I am not letting him do it," she said. "He has tried to cum on my face, too. That ain't ever gonna happen!"

"Then it's simple. Don't let him tie you up."

Again, the conversation slid into other areas. For a short time they discussed work and family and various things. Still, the conversation came back around to her predicament.

"Are you going to help me or what?" she shouted at him.

"With what?

"James, you're a fucker!" she said with a laugh. "You know I am going to let him tie me up. But, I don't want ropes. You told me before that it could be unsafe if the person tying you...if he doesn't know what he is doing."

"You need cuffs and a couple of chain dog leashes," he said. "That's all. You can get the leashes anywhere and go to a sex shop for the cuffs. Hell, you can use dog collars for the cuffs."

"I can't go there...to a sex shop. You know me! And what would someone think of me trying on collars in a pet store?" Her voice told of her incredulity.

"I'll stop by tomorrow and bring you the cuffs. I have some leashes too," he told her. "Just remember what I told you. If you let anyone bind you...well, you are giving them permission to do whatever they want to do."

"Okay." she sighed.

A few minutes later they agreed that he would come by early Saturday and deliver his ‘equipment’ and then they said their goodbyes and hung up.

For the next several days Debbie thought she might call James and tell him not to bother bringing his ‘equipment’ by. It was far too embarrassing. Besides, she was afraid of what her boyfriend might have planned if he did bind her. Eventually, she settled on James bringing by the equipment. She didn't have to use it if she didn't want to, after all.

She was sitting in her kitchen when the door bell rang. Looking up to the clock on the wall she gave a sigh of exasperation and then left her seat to answer. Opening the door she greeted James with a slightly embarrassed smile and a few moments later they were sitting across from each other in friendly conversation.

"Well, I guess you probably want to see what's in the bag, eh?" he mused, grinning and tilting his head towards the bag at his feet.

Debbie blushed briefly, nodding in affirmation. "Let's go upstairs,” she said. Still grinning, James followed her to her bedroom, admiring the sway of her plump bottom through her body hugging blue jeans.

She took a seat on her unmade bed, asking his forgiveness for the unkempt room. Then she blushed, glanced downward to the bag in his hands and inquired as to its contents.

"This,” he said, pulling an item from the bag and laying it on the bed beside her, "is a leather collar. It fits around your neck. You will notice that it has several steel rings on it. Those are to allow for constructive binding." He handed her the collar and then continued pulling items from the bag. "These are cuffs. You will notice that they are leather, too. Unlike the collar, there is only one ring on each. You won't need more. Here are four leashes, ten carabiners, a few leather straps with a quick connect fastener at either end and these are gags. This one is a ring gag and this one is a ball gag. Both are quite useful."

For several moments she sat quiet. Then she fingered the collar with her well-manicured fingers and asked, "Should I try these on or...what should I do?"

James grinned, his thoughts leading to prurient images of Debbie bound in difficult and uncomfortable positions. "I can put them on if you like. Do you trust me?"

Beads of sweat appeared on her upper lip and her face went red. "Should I?"

"Well, as I have mentioned before, if you allow yourself to be bound you are at the mercy of the one who binds you. You are allowing them to do as they wish with you and no words can obscure that fact,” he said with an impish grin. This was a game he played well and one he enjoyed playing. And while the game was enjoyable, it was not so enjoyable as the discomfort she felt as evidenced by the deep redness that colored her arms and face.

She let out a growl of frustration and then asked, "Look...can I trust you or not?"

His grin widened. "You can trust me not to hurt you. I would never hurt you. The rest...well, I might not be able to stop myself once I have you helpless."

"Smart ass!” she shot at him. "Just show me how they can or should be used."

Still grinning, he pulled her head towards him so that her face was directly in front of his crotch and then applied the collar around her neck. He listened to her ragged breathing as he buckled it in place and then stepped back and demanded she present her arms. He fastened the cuffs around her legs and then kneeled down and applied similar looking cuffs to her ankles.

"Alright, he is not experienced, “ he said as he stood. “You will need a safe word in case something hurts or he goes too far for you. Let's use ‘apple pie’. "Good for you?"

"Yeah, apple pie," she said, burning with aroused embarrassment.

He spun her to face away from him. "Okay, first thing is simple. Your hands can be bound behind your back, like so,” he told her, pulling her arms behind her, pulling her wrists together and then connecting the two cuffs together with a small carabiner. "Can you get loose?"

Debbie struggled for a moment, trying to access the carabiner and then to pull her hands from the cuffs. "No, no I can't."

"Excellent. Now, from this position I can lay you on the bed and hog-tie you or I can pull your hands up your back, like so, and bind your wrists to your collar with this strap."

He spun her back to face him and took stock of the girl. She was impossibly red and her nipples threatened to pierce the soft fabric of her white, cotton t-shirt. She was ready for the taking, he knew. He stepped forward and snaked his left hand behind her and grasped the hair at the base of her skull. Pulling her head back, he leaned in and listened to her. She moaned slightly and her breathing was ragged.

"Feels good, doesn't it?" he whispered.

She was shaking now, wishing he would take her and afraid that he might. Sweat beaded on her skin and her knees felt as if they might give way to gravity.

"No. It's scary. I don't like it," she lied. Her voice was a whisper.

"Don't lie to me, Debbie,” he whispered in her ear, "It won't work with me. I know you, remember?" He released her suddenly and continued with his lesson.

"The gags, I must say, are quite fun,” he stated, sounding like a high school teacher. "This one is a ring gag. Open your mouth and I'll show you how it works."

"I don't know about this," was all she got out before he began pushing the ring into her mouth. In a matter of moments it was fastened securely and she was no longer able to close her mouth.

"This gag, Deb, is so your mouth can be accessed at any time, whether you want it or not. I don't think your candy-ass boyfriend would use it properly, do you?" he said with a sinister lilt. "Now, turn around, face the bed and get on your knees."

Obediently, she settled to her knees, crossed emotions and thoughts passing through her. Her nerves were close to her skin and she began to breathe in short quick breaths. What would she do, she wondered, if he did decide to take her? What could she do?

The click of the carabineer between her ankles startled her. Looking slightly to her left she could see her image in the mirrored door of the closet. Her arms were bound mid-way up her back and her mouth gaped open, an available target for easy use. It felt sexy, frightening and humiliating all at once.

"Debbie", he began as he moved in front of her and sat on the bed, "I know that you are excited right now. You like this feeling. You like everything about this. Most importantly, you are emotionally torn. Part of you wants me to take you while another part is fighting that want."

She shook her head "No".

"Deb, I am no fool," he started, "I have been through this before. I know how the body reacts. I've never lied to you and don't expect you to lie to me. Now, tell me the truth. Am I right in what I said?"

She bowed her head and then nodded "Yes".

"In that case, I will give you something easy," His voice was soft now. ” You can find out how it is to taste my control. It will not be much: a quick moment. Then I will leave. After that, it is up to you to make the next move. I will not call on you."

He stood, unzipped his pants and pulled his cock out. Debbie stared up at him, unable to decide what she should do. Then he cradled her head in his hand and pushed her to his cock. Initially, he was quite gentle, sliding his hardening cock into her opened mouth in slow and easy strokes. Slowly, he built up to faster strokes and began thrusting his cock to the back of her throat. She gagged and fought to slow his pace but he would not allow it. “I will do this my way or not at all, Deb,” he said softly, “so stop resisting. It’s futile.”

For many minutes he stroked his cock in her mouth, guiding the bobbing her head to the rhythm of his strokes. After becoming used to his process she found a sort of peace, closed her eyes and settled into a dream-like state. His momentum increased with a sudden hiccup. Her eyes fluttered open slightly and she was drawn back to reality, expectant that he would climax soon.

Abruptly, he pulled from her mouth and held her head back. "Sorry princess, you aren't getting that satisfaction today," he told her.

Her eyes were suddenly wide and she felt a strange sadness come over her. He was not going to cum in her mouth. "Why?" she wondered. "What have I done wrong?"

It was as if he read her mind. For, just as quickly as her questions arose, he answered them. "You get my cum when you go to me, not when I come to you. But, I am going to get the satisfaction I want."

A moment later, she was being lifted and placed in the middle of the bed on her back. As she was contemplating what might happen next, he released the clasp on her blue jeans and pulled them down to her bound ankles. After similar treatment of her panties he slid between her legs and gave attention to her over-damp sex.

Later, she would muse, it was the best worst experience she had ever felt. One moment his tongue was sliding inside her, wriggling about as if struggling for deeper entry. The next moment he withdrew from her to lick at her thighs, telling her how good she tasted. His hands, too, played a part in his scheme. Moments of soft caresses were followed by firm massaging inside and out, bringing her near to orgasm only to leave her wanting. His teasing became torture and she feared he would never allow her satisfaction.

Unable to take more, she began begging in garbled phrases, her gag preventing enunciation. Frustrated, she moaned and filled the room with her tortured cries. She writhed and moaned and cried and begged for him to allow her the release she so needed. Moans turned to screams and she thrashed about as he allowed her, at long last, to find that release. But he was not through with her and she climaxed again and then again and yet another time. She climaxed until she thought her mind would explode and then, as she feared she might die of pleasure, he relented. Soon after, she fell into the dark abyss of sleep.

It was several hours later when she awoke. She was lying in her bed, unfettered and alone. She called out for James, hoping he had not left, knowing he had. Finally, her calls unanswered, she wept.

The Object of His Affection – Beginnings 2

James was sitting and reading a book when the phone rang. He was not surprised when he answered the phone to discover it was Debbie. Immediately, and after his initial “Hello”, she burst into a tirade filled with tears and anger, telling him how upset she was at what had occurred between them. Slowly then, after she had aired her grievances, it came out; She had ended her relationship with her dullard of a boyfriend. Thirty minutes after saying their goodbyes she turned up at his door.

The discussion was long and tear filled. Finally, after agreeing to “try out a relationship”, they took to his bed, still clothed, where she curled up in his arms and drifted into the world of dreams.

They awoke to the dim light of early morning. Smiling, she slid upwards to kiss him. It was their first real kiss. They followed it with a passionate session of lovemaking.

Her past lovers had guided her with gentle motions and spoken requests. Always, she had been somewhat aggressive, returning her lovers requests and guidance with her own. It was not to be so with James, however. At first, their kisses were soft and gentle, tinged with the passion of long lost lovers. Quickly, the timbre of the evening changed and she felt herself pushed between his legs.

“Suck my cock, princess,” his gentle voice commanded.

His soft command thrilled her. Obediently, she unzipped his pants and took his semi-erect cock in her hands and, looking up, flashed a brief smile at him and then took his member into her mouth. Rolling her tongue under and across his cock, she began to wonder if he was truly enjoying her actions. Many past conversations crossed her mind in which he had commented on how few women can ‘properly suck cock’. These remembrances determined her to prove her skills to him and she began sucking him with fervor.

James was impressed by her vigor, if not her skill. Too often she would pull back to swirl the tip of his cock with her tongue or wipe the saliva from his cock or her chin. Admittedly, she was far more skilled and enthusiastic than most in the art of fellatio. Training her, he thought would be most enjoyable.

As James felt himself nearing climax, he pulled her from his cock and guided her to lay on her back. He placed her arms at her sides and then threw his leg across her so that he straddled her face and with his legs pinning her arms where they were. “Suck me,” he ordered as he pushed his cock to her mouth and removed his white, cotton t-shirt. Feeling small and helpless, she opened her mouth and took him into her, closing her eyes to avoid his intently glaring eyes.

After many long minutes of avoiding his steady gaze, she felt his weight shift and he pulled his cock from her mouth. Then he slid down the length of her body and off of the bed, dragging her blue jeans from her body as he did so. "He's good,” she thought, never having noticed his release of the snap and zipper. Then she realized her panties had been removed as well.

Now he grasped her ankles and flashed a frightening smile and then pushed them up slowly until they were perpendicular to her body. He slid onto the bed and began a slow march up the bed, kissing and licking the backs of her legs as he pushed them towards and against her torso until her thighs pressed against her chest. Debbie was lost in the moment as she experienced a sensuality she had never felt before. Certainly she had made love in this position, but never had she been so manipulated with such careful or slow deliberation. Suddenly, she wished she were completely naked and bound just as she was.

"Grab your legs and hold them steady,” he whispered. "I don't want you to move." Then he slipped off the bed and stood at its foot.

She watched him as he slowly removed his pants, wanting the hard cock that stood out from his body. Again, her thoughts drifted back to wishing she were bound in her current position, helpless and hopeless of escape. Naked, he came around the bed to bend down and kiss her forehead. She shivered, strangely embarrassed that her shirt remained on while he was naked.

"I should be naked, too,” she whispered to no one.

"You will be," he told her, making her blush.

"Before we go further there is something that must be done,” he said, with a smile. "I have preferences and kinks and various interests in things that you have described as perversions. You must indulge me in only one for now. But, you must promise to indulge me before I tell you my intentions."

For a brief moment she was unsure and wondered if she should agree. She had always thrilled at his descriptions of how he treated the women he had taken to bed. More importantly, and despite his acknowledged and well-known sadistic side, she had never detected any cruelty in him. So, after swallowing the lump in her throat, she nodded her head and told him she would do as he wished.

"When I have finished speaking, I want you to get up and go to the bathroom,” he began. "You are not to say a word. Then I want you to shower. Do not hurry; I want you to enjoy the sensual quality of it. When you come out of the shower, I expect there to be absolutely no hair below your neck. Your arms, legs...everything is to be devoid of hair. Now...go."

For a brief moment she pondered his request. She had never shaved her entire body. In fact, the hair on her body was so fine that she rarely shaved above her knees. Now he wanted her to shave her entire body. Finally, her moment of thought passed and she reasoned that she must obey as she had promised.

For long and long she stood under the shower, warm water coursing over her body. She was excited and frightened at what was to come and she suspected that he would not react well to a failure at executing his wish. So, after many minutes of contemplation, she began her task.

She shaved her armpits and legs first. Then, after another short moment of contemplation, she began lathering up her arms. It felt strange to her as the razor sheared away the fine hairs on her arm. Even stranger was the sensation of drawing the razor across her belly and then her chest and bottom. Once she was sure no part of her body remained unshorn, she began to lather up the mound between her legs. This was substantially more difficult. Not only had she never shaved between her legs but also she was certain she would cut into her most delicate flesh.

The first scrape of the razor gave her goose bumps. After a deep breath and a quick rinse of the razor she began again, wincing with each pass of the blade against her flesh. In seemingly no time she began working on the area that made her most nervous and, pressing down her excited flesh, she shaved the remaining hair from her mound. After many short and careful passes, she was, as he commanded, devoid of hair below her neck. She was also quite aroused and rather embarrassed. Her work done, she gave a final rinsing, shut off the water and began drying herself. Then she stepped from the shower, wrapped herself in her towel and exited the bathroom.

Her arrival into the bedroom was marked with a chiding remark and a command to return the towel to the bathroom.

“I want you naked,” he commanded.

For a moment she wavered, turning part way to her right and then left as she blushed from head to toe. Then, after a quick cock of his head, she obeyed. Once she returned to the room he informed her that she was to stand motionless and that he was going to examine her.

"Anything you missed will be met with a spanking,” he told her. "You will get five smacks on the ass for each area you missed." Then, he knelt in front of her, grasped her thighs and pressed his mouth between her legs.

Suddenly, she was jelly legged and falling through the air. An instant later she was in his arms and being placed on the bed. Her head spun as he lifted her legs and trailed his tongue across her calves and thighs as he pushed them against her.

"Hold them to you,” he commanded, his head disappearing between her legs.

It was barely a moment before she began her first orgasm of the day. Several orgasms and half an hour later, he knelt at her bottom and plunged his cock into her hairless sex. He was not gentle as he had been before. Neither was he rough. He was steady and hard with is thrusts, holding her ankles in his firm grasp and pounding into her as if she were an inanimate object. As quick as was his entry, his withdrawal was just as quick. He knee-walked up her body, imprisoning her her legs between him and her body, pressing them ever downward and ensuring her inability to move. He grasped her hair and lifted her head with his left hand and stroked his cock with his right. Knowing his intentions she was instantly horrified yet strangely excited at what she knew was to come. He growled, jerking her head closer to his cock as he erupted. Heart beats later, she found her face covered and dripping with his hot and sticky discharge.

For a long moment afterwards, he did not move. She wanted to speak - to ask him if she could get up and wash the mess from her face but she was afraid. This was his domain and she had entered it willingly, knowing him for who he was.

"Open,” he told her. His voice was deep and commanding.

Obediently, she opened her mouth and he filled it with his cock. He held her to him for several minutes, his cock nearly to the back of her throat. A dollop of the sticky mass coating her skin flowed into the corner of her eye. She closed her eyes tightly, hoping for him to release his grip that she might clean the disgusting mess from her face. Fearful of disappointing him, she determined to hold a steady silence until she was certain he was through with her.

Finally, he relaxed his grip on her hair and allowed her head to fall to the bed. He slipped from his position atop her body, allowing her to legs to fall into a less stressful position, and lay down beside her.

"I know what you're thinking,” he began. "But that cum is my claim. It only comes off when I allow it. Understand?"

"Crap! You mean that you want me to wear your cum until you say I can wash it off?" she asked, incredulous.

"Exactly."

"But it's covering my eyes. I can't open my eyes without it getting in,” she complained. "Can I at least get it out of my eyes?"

"No,” was his answer.

Debbie thought long and hard. The urge to wipe her eyes was nearly unbearable and the revulsion she felt at being covered with his drying cum was equally unbearable. By the same token, she could not deny the odd excitement her situation brought to her.

"Fine! I'll leave it!" she said, her tone conciliatory and irritated.

Chuckling, he left the bed, urging she follow. Her complaints of blindness were met with more chuckles. "I guess I'll have to lead you, then,” he told her, taking her by the hand to lead her downstairs.

After seating her in a chair at his table he inquired, "Bacon and eggs good?"

"It's better than cum in your face,” she replied, wryly.

She sat with her eyes closed, uncomfortably trying to ignore the drying mess on her face as he prepared their food. Fortunately, by the time breakfast was ready for their consumption her facial covering was sufficiently dry enough for her to open her eyes again.

"You're a bastard, you know?" she said, biting into a piece of bacon.

"I know", he said, flashing a grin. "But, that's the sort of thing you can look forward to if you stay with me. Well, that and worse."

"I don't want to know. Not while I'm eating," she said. She pursed her lips and then went on with her meal.

The rest of the day went pleasantly. They made love several more times that day. Each session of love making, much to her annoyance, ended with similar results as the first. By the time he let her take a shower that night her face had a thorough and unpleasant coating of dried semen.

As they lay in bed that night, and after much prodding, she would begrudgingly admit that the degradation she suffered that day had aroused her. His suspicions confirmed, he began making plans for future humiliation of the girl beside him.

The Object of His Affection – Humiliation 3

During the next few months, caught in the early throes and excitement of a new relationship, things were relatively easy going. During this time he showed her the lighter sides of his sadomasochistic tastes while promising her it would not always be so easy. Many nights he would spend teaching her how to give better blowjobs. Other nights they would simply make love or fuck like wild beasts. And it was during these months that Debbie discovered the excitement and humiliation that accompanied the requirement of having to ask for, and receive, permission to climax.

Debbie, for the most part, enjoyed her new situation. She had always wished for more assertive boyfriends and had always wondered why men tended to be so sheepish in the bedroom. Upon voicing this query to James she received an answer that was honest, from his standpoint, and for which she could find little fault.

"It's because of how men have been trained in this day and age. Men have been told that taking charge is bad and that women can do anything a man can, despite the obvious physical, emotional and psychological differences,” he told her.

It was a Friday, nearly six months into their relationship, when she inquired as to why he had not bound her. She had hoped, nearly every night, that he would tie her to the bed and take her. He explained that it was not the time. "Soon, you will begin to experience those exotic things you wish to experience."

That night, he asked if she wanted a new experience. Excited at the prospect, she nearly jumped when she told him she did. For the next few hours she waited, expectant and excited, for him to unveil his plans.

At nine O’clock that night he told her to take a shower. "After you dry your hair, I want you to come downstairs. You are to be naked. Understand?"

After an excited "Yes, Sir!" she bolted upstairs to complete her orders. Twenty minutes later she was downstairs and standing naked, just as he commanded.

Seated on his soft leather couch, James commanded she stand in the middle of the room with her hands at her side and solidly against her thighs. "Now tell me, how many times have you masturbated since we have been together?" he asked.

"I haven't...I don't,” she stammered.

Rolling his eyes, he began again. "How many times?"

Blushing, she stammered and said, "A few times...I don't know how many times...a lot, I guess."

"That ends now. From now on, you are never to masturbate or cum without my permission. Understand?"

She blushed again, trying to hide her face under the cover of her long auburn hair. "Yes, Sir,” she whispered.

"Good. Now, it's time for me to see how you masturbate," he told her. "Do you do it standing or sitting or laying down? How?"

"Oh my God. I can't...I...I don't want to do this,” she said in a shaky voice.

"How? What position?" he demanded.

"Sitting. I sit on the couch or lay on my bed,” she said, suddenly wishing she could crawl under a rock. "My legs are usually spread and my legs are bent. My...my knees are usually up in the air."

James left the couch and sat in the easy chair across from it. Then, in a low voice he said, “Go…show me.”

Obeying him, she sat on the couch. She didn’t move for a long moment, praying she would wake from this dream. After a quick “Now!” she took a deep breath and lifted her legs, spreading them slightly.

"This is how you sit?"

"Yes,” she whispered. She was sweating now and nearly overwhelmed by the moments embarrassment. "Please, can we not do this?” she pleaded.

"Now, slide your hand between your legs and show me how you masturbate,” he commanded.

Closing her eyes, she slid her right hand between her legs. More embarrassment flooded through her being as she discovered that she was extremely wet. Then, almost against her own command, her fingers began rubbing the sensitive flesh between her legs.

"I own that pussy,” he said. "Never forget that. I own it."

"Yes,” she hissed.

"Say it."

"You own my pussy.”

"Again."

"You own my pussy,” she repeated.

Before long, his repetitious command was no longer necessary and she began repeating the words as if it were her mantra. It was not long after that she became lost in her sexual excitement and found herself in need of release.

"May I cum?" she asked, knowing he would not approve if she failed to ask.

"Who do you cum for?" he demanded.

"I cum for you,” she replied.

"Tell me again. Who do you cum for?” he repeated.

“I cum for you.”

“When do you cum?” His voice was hard and demanding now.

“When you command it,” she said. There was desperation building in her voice. "I cum for you. I cum when you command it. Please, may I cum? I need to cum so bad. Please, let me cum!"

“How badly do you want to cum?” he asked.

“So badly…so, so badly. Please let me cum!” Her voice was quivering with need.

“So, why don’t you cum?” he inquired.

“Because I’m not allowed...not without your permission,” she answered.

He smiled, pleased by her surprising willingness to suffer for him. He had, it seemed, under estimated her submissive nature and need to please. This miscalculation did not displease him in the least.

"Please...please, let me cum for you!" she was nearly frantic now.

"Stop rubbing,” he said.

Frustrated, she let out a groan and hesitantly stopped rubbing, withdrawing her hand from her needy organ.

"You want to rub your pussy again?"

She hardly noticed the smug tone in his voice, knowing only the need for release. "Yes,” she said. Her voice was high and she was clearly exasperated and then she pleaded, "Please let me rub my pussy."

"What will you do for it?” he inquired. He was smug in knowing what her response would be. But he wanted her to hear her own voice saying what she was willing to do.

"Please...anything you want...I'll do anything. Just please let me rub my pussy. Let me cum." She sounded near to panic, so great was her frustrated need.

"You may rub."

Her hand was back between her legs, massaging the dripping orifice. Immediately, she began undulating and moaning. Then, as before, she began begging for release.

Not satisfied with her suffering, he made her desist her self-pleasure yet again. She groaned and pulled her hand away. There was hesitance in her motions and her hand hovered briefly over her overly damp sex.

"Please, I need to cum so bad,” she begged. "Please let me rub my pussy. Anything, I'll do anything."

Over and over he repeated this ritual, making her pull her hand from her sensitive mound when she approached orgasm. Many times she would scream out her frustration as tears flowed down her face. But then, just as she neared her breaking point, she heard the words she so wished to hear: "Cum for me, slut,” he said.

It burst upon her as if a thousand stars had exploded. Her sight left her visions of strange design - a kaleidoscope of ever changing chaos, of color and of light. Her knees were pulled against her body as her toes and feet twisted frantically about. Finally, exhausted and more than satisfied, her rubbing slowed and then came to a halt.

“I didn’t tell you to stop rubbing, slut!” she heard.

Mindlessly, she began rubbing again. She heard his voice say, “Cum, whore,” and she found herself in the throes of another orgasm. Again and again he repeated those words and she obeyed each time. It happened time and again until she begged for him to stop, “Please, let me rest…I can’t…I can’t…no more,” she begged.

“You wanted to cum, slut,” he hissed. “Now, you have your wish. Cum for me.”

“Please…no more!” she cried out as her body obeyed his command. She cried out again as the orgasm faded. “I can’t take it. Please!” she begged franticly.

After a time, she could hear little, other than his repeated commands to cum and cum again. Never did it enter her thoughts to disobey, even as she begged for mercy.

“Stop, slut,” he finally commanded.

She obeyed. Her body obeyed. She was at rest. There was no thought at this point - no identity or emotion. There was only a sense of being and the need to obey his words. She did not know why, nor did she question it. At this moment, she was barely an entity that occupied space, that obeyed. There was only one thing she knew and that was his voice - his command.

“I own you,” he said. I was not a question or a demand. It was a statement of fact. “Say it,” he commanded.

“You own me,” she forced out between her panting.

“Cum for me, cunt,” she heard.

Immediately she erupted in another orgasm. Both arms slammed down and against the couch cushions. Her fingers flawed at the fabric below her and threatened to break through to the padding below. Again and again he repeated the command. Again and again she - her body - obeyed with an orgasm that came from nowhere and everywhere.

"Stop!" he commanded. And it was over.

"I own you,” he said again.

Then, as if nothing had occurred, he commanded she go to the bedroom, get into bed and await his arrival. “I need a shower and a shave,” he told her. "When I get settled into bed I don't expect to have to tell you to suck my cock."

her her wits been about her she might have been shocked. As it was she was barely able to acknowledge his words before departing on shaky legs. She was still nearly devoid of thought when he slipped into bed some twenty minutes later and began receiving the blowjob he expected.

"Which do you prefer, dear...would you prefer I cum on your face or in your mouth?"

Momentarily freeing her mouth from his cock, she said, "My face. Please cum on my face so I can wear it all night.”

It was not her preference. They both knew it. But it was his preference. He was quite pleased with her at that moment and he told her so. She smiled, glad that she had pleased him.

"Suck," he said. It was a soft command; softer than usual. Somehow, it seemed to carry a tremendous weight that excited her. Obedient and eager to please him, she engulfed his cock with her mouth and sucked to the best of her ability.

Many times he would halt her action to ask where she preferred to receive his cum. Each time he was met with "On my face".

Finally, he asked her "Do you think you are worthy to wear my cum?"

She lifted her head and freed his cock from her mouth for the moment, furrowing her brow in consideration. Unable to find the proper answer: one that would please him. She gave a tentative, "I don't know," and then took his cock back into her mouth and continued pleasuring him.

"You are not. Not yet. When you are worthy, I will cum on your face,” he told her. "For tonight, and until you are worthy, you will swallow. You will eventually wear my cum again. But only when I feel you are worthy to do so.”

Later that night, long after he had filled her mouth with his hot and viscous fluids, she cried. “What have I done wrong?” she wondered. “Why aren’t I worthy? Why won’t he cum on my face?” Then she cried herself to sleep wondering why she were not worthy of wearing his cum and wishing she was.

Slowly, as the months progressed, he re-enforced his edict that she was not worthy to wear his cum. She would beg during their love making and cry after, when he refused her. She even began to beg to wear is cum when they were not in the throes of lovemaking. “You may never be worthy to wear my cum, Deb”, he would tell her from time to time. “Your blowjobs have much to be desired and your obedience is lacking. When these things improve you might be worthy of wearing my cum. Until that time, I cannot see giving you that pleasure.”

Eventually, she began to see that he was right. She was not worthy of wearing his cum. She did talk back and she had nicked his cock with her teeth on more than one occasion. This did not discourage her, however. Instead, it steeled her to become more of what he wanted, hoping to be granted the honor of wearing his seed once again. Her determination was obvious, pleasing him considerably. Often, he would consider her progression, knowing she would eventually allow her submissive nature to take over more completely. That was the day he reckoned would be one of the more joyous days of her life. .

The Object of His affection – Pavlov’s Dog 4

It was the eve of their anniversary. She had gotten ‘all gussied up’ at his command and now awaited his arrival at her door. When, at long last he arrived, he was in suit and tie, bearing flowers and a large gift-wrapped box.

"Happy anniversary, pet,” he said with a smile. "I have something special for you. I only hope you accept it."

She could not imagine what he might have that she would not accept. A quizzical look on her face, she leaned in to kiss him and retrieve her bouquet. Then, after placing the large bouquet in a vase and placing it on her coffee table, she sat on the couch beside him and gathered the handsomely wrapped box in her hands.

"Before you open your present, I want you to understand the significance of it,” he started. "If you accept the contents within you will be expected to quit your apartment and move in with me. I want to have you day and night, for now and always."

Debbie burst into tears, falling into his arms in a strong embrace and covering his face with her own wet tears and emotion filled kisses.

"Of course, I'll move in,” she nearly shouted.

After wiping her face she turned to the box and began unwrapping it. What she found were four black leather cuffs and a wide, leather collar of the same color. There was also a pair of black stiletto heels with a locking ankle strap. "If you accept these gifts there is significance behind them,” he said as he looked into her eyes, "It means that our relationship will intensify and that you can look forward to experiencing many of the things I have told you about over the years."

For a moment she didn't know quite what to say. She had longed for him to use his cuffs and collar. She had longed to be bound and used for his pleasure. However, even after being with him for the last year, there was fear in her heart as how she knew he would use her.

"Can I think about it...give you my answer later tonight?"

"Let's go,” he said. " When we get back I’ll expect that answer."

Debbie was quite relieved. This was not something she could rush into and, though she loved him and had enjoyed her submission to him, she was still quite fearful.

Dinner was a pleasant affair. They talked and laughed and reminisced of old times and not so old times. He would often mention particularly memorable evenings and moments of recent past that would bring her to blush, even as they aroused her. Then, during one particularly embarrassing remembrance her said, “You recoil from certain of my comments,” as he stirred his drink. “But I know you like not being allowed to cum until I command it. I know you like when I embarrass you, too.”

“I do,” she acknowledge, still blushing. “I like everything...even what I don’t like. You…you make me want it. I don’t know how and it scares me. But I like it.”

By the time they returned to her apartment she was happy and excited, having already reached a decision regarding her gifts. As soon as they crossed the threshold and entered her living room she kissed him, embracing him tightly.

"Will you do something at my request? Just this once I want a little control," she said. There was a demure smile on her face.

“What is it?"

"Will you go to the bedroom, get undressed and wait for me?" she asked.

He stared at her for a brief moment longer as he considered her request. Then he, too, smiled, saying, "Sure. I'll be waiting in bed. Just don't make me wait long."

Once he had slipped away, she removed her clothing and applied his gifts to her body. First, she slipped on his collar, enjoying the sudden claustrophobic tightness as she buckled it on. Then, after fastening the cuffs about her wrists, she slipped her feet into the menacing looking shoes and buckled them on.

She discovered, as she looked through the box, that there was a small envelope. Curious as to its contents, she opened it to discover that there were several small locks and a pair of keys. She tested them, discovering that all the locks were identical and that a single key opened them all. In a moment, each of her adornments was locked on to her body, ensuring that only the bearer of the keys could release her from her trappings. Then she headed to her bedroom and to the man who awaited her.

His weight pressed heavily on her doubled body. She had been bound with her arms stretched and spread over her head. Her ankles, much as she had imagined, had been bound to their corresponding wrist and then to the headboard’s cross beam. He was pounding into her and whispering lustful words into her ears, heightening the thrill of the moment. He was generous that night, not torturing her by making her wait. When she asked permission to cum it was granted each time. Then, as was his practice when he neared climax, he asked, “Where would you like me to cum?”

Suddenly melancholy and knowing she was not yet worthy, she replied, “Please cum on my face.” Then, as if in a dream, he pulled out of her and straddled her bound body. She watched in disbelief as he stroked his cock. She waited for what seemed an eternity until his semen spewed forth and coated her face with his seed. Melancholy no more, she was suddenly filled with pride and happiness.

Three more times he made love to her bound body. Three more times she was found worthy to wear his cum. Finally spent, he lay down beside her and slipped into the darkness of sleep.

As he drifted into dreams she lay quietly beside him, proud to be wearing his cum. It was then that she realized that her worthiness was determined not by the quality of her blowjobs or her obedience. It was determined by her willingness to trust and to give over control that made her worthy and she was proud that she could do so. And with a smile on her damp, sticky face that she joined James in sleep.

Morning came to soon. With it, she discovered the pain that comes with being bound doubled over for so long. Looking over to James she could see that he was still sleeping. She thought, for a fleeting moment, that she might wake him and ask to be let loose of her bonds. Then she thought of how he had made her feel the previous night and decided to endure the discomfort she was feeling. Besides, she did not want to disappoint him in any way.

Eventually, the call of nature woke James. After a quick trip to the bathroom he returned and released her fatigued and sore body from her bonds.

“Suck my cock,” he commanded, lying back on the bed.

Her initial reaction was one of irritation. She was quick to catch herself before her irritation was made public. After a quick stretch, she slid down between his legs and took his cock in her mouth. Fortunately for her cramping muscles he was not long in reaching climax. Then, after delivering a fresh coating of semen to her face, he commanded she ready breakfast while he showered.

Breakfast was nearly complete when he sauntered into the kitchen. She turned and smiled, causing the dried coating of cum to crack along the corners of her mouth and dimples in her cheeks.

"Cum for me,” he commanded.

A brief moment passed as she realized what he said. Suddenly the wave hit her and she was forced to grip the counter top to keep from crumpling to the ground. She regained her strength a few moments later and then stared at him with eyes wide.

"Bacon’s burning," he said. He was casual, as if her cumming with only his command were an every day occurrence.

Perplexed, and slightly unbelieving in what had just happened, she returned to cooking. A dull haze marked the remained of her time cooking as she pondered the strange occurrence.

"How did you do that?" she inquired as she placed the food on the table. "How the fuck did you do that?"

"Pavlov's dogs,” he said, grinning. "I trained you. Now, you cum on command."

"No fucking way! That's not possible,” she exclaimed. “I'm not like some dog that you can train to do tricks."

"Yes you are. I own you. Now, cum for me."

This time there was no hesitation. Instead, the wave hit hard and quick. She stared at him from under furrowed brows, excited, dismayed and frightened at this new development. When her orgasm finally subsided she opened her mouth, as if to speak. Nothing was emitted however, and she stared like a dumb animal unable to form words. He smiled at her, noting the odd mix of emotions that were apparent on her semen coated face.

"Eat up,” he said.

Finally, and after several long moments of silence, her thoughts returned to her. Several times she made to speak. Her thoughts, returned though they were, were a jumble and she was unable to form a coherent structure to them. She felt that she should say something: perhaps an edict of irritation or pleasure. Little came to her, however.

"Oh my God. You...I...this can't be real!" she finally gasped. “You…I….can’t…what the hell?”

He merely chuckled, noting to her how pleased he was that she could be trained so well. He was quick to note, much to her chagrin, how enticing she looked when cumming on command. She was not so thrilled as he. It was nearly a week before she fully accepted and began to truly enjoy his control over her orgasms. She had worried, initially, that anyone could make her cum. He assured her that it was not likely, saying, “Few people would likely make such a command.” and finishing with, “Besides, It’s not just the command: it’s who commands.”

A month later she quit her apartment and moved in with him. On this day she was informed that she would be expected to change her house wear. Her collar, cuffs and stiletto heels were to be her standard mode of dress unless otherwise ordered. When they were out, he allowed, she could wear whatever she wanted adding, “Unless I have other ideas for your evening wear.” To her surprise, she found this edict quite arousing.

Weeks turned to months and then, before she knew it, another year was gone and they were fast approaching their second anniversary together. This anniversary, rather than presenting her with a gift, he requested one from her.

"It's a request and not a command,” he told her. "It requires your free consent and will not be considered disobedient should you choose against it.”

His request stunned her and she was glad he gave her time to mull it over. Even more relieving was that it was not a demand. With a bra size of thirty-four "DD" she was already a large breasted woman. Especially considering her breasts were housed on a five foot, three inch frame. Having them enlarged, to whatever size he had planned, would make her look ridiculous.

Finally, on the day of their anniversary, she came to him and told him she could not grant his request and asked if she could give him anything else. With a smile, she was instructed not to worry on the matter. His calm and happy willingness to forget his request only served to sadden her and she felt as if she had failed him somehow.

The Object of His Affection – Self-discovery 5

She lay on her back, each ankle bound to it's corresponding wrist. If she could have she would have been screaming. Unfortunately, and thanks to a large ball gag that inhibited more that muffled cries and unintelligible complaints, she could not not fully express her pain. James lay on top of her, thrusting his cock into her ass. As she had always feared, it was a terrible pain and it could not end soon enough.

When he had begun his binding he promised she would experience pain. He was quick to admit that he could make this a more pleasurable experience. “In the future,” he told her, “it will bring you great pleasure and minimal, if any, pain. For now, there is only one first time and my sadistic side needs to be expressed.”

His entry was excruciatingly painful and felt as if he were ripping her in twain. He had prepared her for his entry by simply spitting on her anal opening and then rubbing his saliva across the opening. Then, after she had been made to coat his cock with a copious amount of her own saliva, he slid into position and forced his way into her anal canal. One slow and steady thrust and he was buried deep in her ass. She screamed as best she could, hoping he would stop or withdraw or just give her a moment to recover. Her wish was not met. As soon as he had buried himself inside her ass he began thrusting in long and painful strokes.

At first entry, James reveled in her obvious pain and futile struggles. When his further thrusting was met with even more pain and struggles he was near to ecstatic. Consequently, the more she screamed and struggled, the harder and faster he thrust. It was a vicious cycle.

It was over too soon for James. After mere minutes he could contain himself no more. He jerked and shuddered and arched his back as he climaxed and filled her colon with hot semen. A groan escaped him and he shuddered again and made her scream as his spasmodic motion furthered her pain. Then it was over. For a long while afterwards he lay atop the crying girl and allowed his cock to grow soft inside her battered hole. With his softening he could feel the involuntary twitch of her sphincter. Pleasurable as that was, it hardly compared with her voluntary squeezing and pushing he had felt so recently. For James, there were few moments more intense or exciting than the feeling of a tightening asshole around his cock.

Lifting his head, he decided it might be time to pull the gag from her mouth. She might, he thought, be unable to breathe after so much crying. On the other hand, he was likely to get an ear full of angry complaints. Judgment and care prevailed. Upon removal of the gag there was little from her other than soft crying. To his surprise, after she had regained herself, she did not offer up any words of anger or harsh comments. Instead, her words were a quiet description of the pain she had suffered. Then she returned to her quiet sobbing.

For many minutes James pondered her reaction to his brutal act of buggery. She had not expressed anger or told him she would never allow it again, as he expected. She seemed to have accepted it. More importantly, it seemed that she had accepted the possibility that she might suffer similarly in future. Her nature, he noted, was gaining more ground, while the headstrong woman was giving ground.

The next morning found them in the shower together. As many couples in love are wont to do, they were enjoying the sensuous pleasures of washing one another. They followed this act with a sensuous drying of the other in the hot misty room.

Over breakfast they spoke of the previous nights activities. He admitted to her the intense pleasure it had provided him. Her struggles and tears, he told her, had caused him to find climax with considerable quickness. He also admitted to looking forward to enjoying such pleasures again. Debbie was less enthusiastic. She admitted to wanting to experience anal sex but she had never wanted such pain. She concluded her comments on the matter with an expression of hope that the next occasion would be far less painful. .

“You’re enjoying the conversation, aren’t you?” asked James.

“No,” she said, avoiding eye contact. “It was painful and humiliating. Why would I enjoy talking about something that was so unpleasant?”

He pushed and prodded with invasive and embarrassing questions. Finally, in a burst of frustration, she admitted the conversation was arousing.

“Look,” she concluded, “I don’t know why it’s arousing and I don’t like that it is! And that arouses me too! Okay?”

"It's the humiliation,” he told her. "You enjoy the humiliation."

She looked at him with furrowed brows. "You're nuts. Who, in their right mind, would get off on being humiliated?"

"You get off on it.” He was almost too matter of fact for her tastes; almost smug.

"No,” she replied, looking into her coffee cup. "I don't like to be humiliated. I like that it pleased you, that's all."

After breakfast, he brought her to the living room and made her kneel in front of him. "In a few minutes, I am going to fuck your ass again. This time,” he said, "You are not going to be tied up. This time you are going to be on your knees. This time I am going to cum in your mouth. Go take care of the dishes and return to the front room."

She swallowed hard, hoping to find a way to escape his proclaimed plans. She was not ready to be taken that way again. Beyond the pain, she was also disgusted at the thought of his cock going from her ass to her mouth. She opened her mouth to speak but was shushed and motioned to do as she was told as he turned on the television.

The dishes were done in a haze. Throughout her chore she sought the words that would free her from his intentions. She was unable to find those words, however, and upon her return to the living room she found herself quite unable to resist his wants.

"Are you my whore?" he asked.

"Yes, I'm your whore,” she said. Her voice was thin and shaky.

She hated the term ‘whore’. She hated all such derogatory terms for women. More than speaking those words, she hated calling herself a whore. Worse yet, she hated the excitement she felt at telling him she was a whore – his whore.

"Get on your hands and knees and get ready to take my cock up your ass,” he ordered.

She was slow in obeying. For that she received a stern look that made her feel insignificant and small. It was all it took to set her into motion.

"Get that ass up and your head down,” he commanded. "I want to see that big ass of yours and nothing else, cunt!"

She bit her lip and slumped into position. Her internal battle became greater and she began to question why she let him treat her so.

"Tell me what you feel like right now."

She took a deep breath, assessing his question. "I feel horrible. I feel like a piece of meat...I hate it. And those words you used for me...I hate those words. They're demeaning."

"Why did you obey then?" he asked.

"I don’t know! Because I have to…it’s how you want me,” she began. “I want to be what you want. I need to…to be what you want me to be.”

James knelt behind her and reached out to her sex. She was wet. Fingers probed at her wet entrance and then pressed inside. He stroked her slowly. "You're plenty wet, aren't you?" he asked.

"Yes...yes, I'm wet,” she said. A small sob escaped her.

"Would you still say that you dislike humiliation?"

"I can't like it,” she cried. "If I did...if...there would be something wrong with me. What kind of person would I be?"

He continued stroking her and pointing out how wet she was, using vile words to describe her and her reaction to his comments. Before long, she was panting, begging for release. He would not allow it. "Not yet, my cum slut. Not until you admit how much you like this humiliation,” he said. His voice was soft now.

She cried out, frustrated and angry. She knew that she should storm out and tell him what she thought of his words but she could not bring herself to do so. Instead, she begged for release.

"Not until you admit it, cunt!" he said. His voice sounded contemptuous now.

She hated him, suddenly. He already knew how she reacted to his humiliating words and treatment. He already knew how it aroused her. Wasn’t it enough that he knew? Why should she have to tell him? All these thoughts filled her mind. Suddenly, she heard her thoughts. It was at that exact moment when he withdrew his hand from her twitching sex, drawing a terrible groan of protest.

"Please, please, don't stop. I need it. Please, I'll do anything,” she begged. " I like being called names and being treated like a whore. Please...let me come! Please! I like being humiliated. It excites me!"

He did not appease her. Instead, he sidled around and in front of her and lifted her face with a bent finger until she looked at him directly. “Good girl,” he told her. Then he left her to contemplate her thoughts. Humiliated, confused and ashamed, Debbie curled into a ball on the floor and cried as she had never cried before. This torture would be repeated with greater and greater frequency over the coming months. Each occurrence ended just as the first. It was a vicious cycle; humiliation excited her and left her shamed and humiliated. That shame and humiliation, in turn, further excited and shamed her. It built upon itself daily until she could take it no more. She was broken. Utterly, she was broken.

It was a cool night when James had made her take to her hands and knees on the living room floor. He touched her sex and found it wet and wanting. She broke into tears immediately and begged him to humiliate her. “Please humiliate me!” she begged. “I need it...I crave it!” she said as the tears poured from her eyes. Then she collapsed only to have James take her into his arms, lifting her and whisking her to the bedroom to comfort her and kiss the tears from her eyes.

“One does not choose ones sexual orientation or skin color anymore than one chooses what excites them sexually,” he explained. “You will come to accept this as surely as you accept your hair color.” his voice was soft and comforting.

She accepted his comments - mostly. Somewhere deep down, however, she wondered if he was wrong and if she hadn't committed some crime that she was subconsciously punishing herself for.

The Object of His Affection – Modification 6

They were laying on the couch on a lazy Saturday afternoon. The sun shone through the trees outside, casting shadows that moved with the light breeze. As usual, she was naked but for her cuffs, collar and stilettos. Half asleep, she wrested on his lap, her arms wrapped around him, secure and comfortable.

She looked up at him and smiled. "What do you want for your birthday?"

"You know what I want,” he told her. He was smiling and his voice was soft.

She furrowed her brows quizzically, nodding her head to the negative.

"Right now, I would enjoy seeing your wonderful breasts enhanced a bit,” he told her. "Remember when I mentioned it before?"

She clamped her lips tightly, considering his comment. For a long time she stared at him, not making a sound. She had all but forgotten his request, having received no further comments on the matter since declining his initial request.

"How big do you want them?" she inquired.

"Doesn't matter. That is, it shouldn't matter to you."

"Of course, it matters. I have to work and live with them,” she said. "And I would have to deal with the people at work. What would they think if I got my breasts - already a thirty-six "DD", I might add - enlarged? What kind of a narcissist would they think I am?"

"Quit."

"My job?"

He tilted his head to look at her. "Yeah. I have plenty of money. Or haven't you noticed?"

"How big?" she asked, her voice trailing into a higher octave.

"I don't know,” he said. "I'll know when I talk to the doctor."

"But I can quit work and not have to worry about being ogled and ridiculed by anyone?"

"Yup."

In the past, she had considered having her breasts reduced somewhat, if anything. The notion of enlarging them further had never entered her mind until he had mentioned it. She looked up at him, thinking about his request; wondering what he had in mind. She loved him so much and longed to please him, always feeling as if she had committed a terrible crime if she failed him in any way. What was she to do, she wondered.

“You really want me bigger?” She was hopeful, if doubtful, of a change in heart.

“Yes,” he said. “I want you bigger.”

She thought of the possibilities. Maybe he only wanted her a little bigger, she thought – hoped. Then again, he might want her breasts to be as big as basketballs or bigger. How could she deal with something like that?

“I can’t,” she thought. “How can I? I’m already too big.”

She was suddenly sad and imagined the look of disappointment in his eyes when she told him “No”. How could she disappoint him again? Especially after he had showed her who she really was? Especially after teaching her not to fight herself.

“I can’t disappoint him again,” she reasoned. “I can’t. I can’t…but I have to.”

She made to answer and then stopped, open-mouthed. She started again and then faltered. She gulped air, preparing for his disappointment. Then, she blurted out the words that surprised even her. “I’ll do it,” she said.

The rest of the week was a blur for her. Often times she would stare at her bare breasts in the bathroom mirror, imagining how they would look after her impending surgery. One day, while she contemplated her future bra size, she heard his voice calling to her. It was time.

The drive to the ‘Facility’ was a long one. During the journey he explained that the doctor he was taking her to see was a friend of his. "His name is Jerry and he specializes is this sort of thing,” he told her. "Actually, he does far more extreme things for people than breast enlargements. Anyway, he is good. The best, in fact."

Upon arrival to the ‘Facility’ she got an odd feel about it. It was clean and sterile, just like any other doctors office. However, the air about the place seemed rather cold and lifeless, as if something horrible lurked about. They were ushered into Jerry's office almost immediately. James and Jerry shook hands and engaged in a brief moment of small talk and catching up. Then they got down to the business at hand.

"So, you say you want to increase your bust size?"

"Well, yes. That is…er…James wants me to get it done and I want to do it for him,” Debbie replied. There was a nervous vibrato in her voice.

"Have you decided on a size?"

"Yes, I have,” James interjected. “So, if you can get her prepped, I can tell you what I want."

Jerry looked to Debbie smiling. "I see. Well then, give me about an hour and we will get her prepped." He then excused himself and departed.

“You decided?” Debbie whispered to James.

He smiled, nodding his head.

“How big?” she demanded.

“Does it matter?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know,” Debbie said. She was flustered now. “No. I don’t think it does. But it does…and it doesn’t.”

James smiled and pulled her to him, assuring her.

“What about if I scar?” she asked, hoping to find a way out.

“Don’t worry,” James assured her. “He goes in through the naval. It’s called a TUBA. You won’t have to worry about scarring.”

The moment when she was called away came all too soon and she glanced back at James with a worried look as she was led away.

After the surgery, Jerry had offered to administer a mild sedative for the ride home. There would be residual pain and swelling for the next few weeks but there was no reason she should suffer the long ride and its many road hazards. James agreed and accepted the offer.

Debbie slept through the night. When she awoke the next morning, it was to see the friendly confines of their bedroom. Initially, she thought it had been a dream, having no remembrances of the return trip. Upon rising, she realized that it had not been a dream. A loud "Oh, my God!" brought James to his feet and into the room.

"How fucking big are my tits?" she demanded as he entered the room. "I'm fucking huge! What the fuck did you do to me?"

James said nothing. Her reaction was not a surprise to him. Instead, he took a seat on the bed and listened to her as spoke. She was not angry. Instead there was an accepting sadness as she spoke. “This makes you happy?” she asked. “Is this what you wanted?”

“Yes, my love, it makes me happy. Part of what you see is swelling, though,” He told her. He reached forward and wiped a tear from her eye. “You need to keep this bra on for the next few weeks, by the way.”

For several hours after her awakening, they would lay together. Sometimes her speech would be fast and nervous and others slow and melancholy. As the hours passed she asked repeatedly if this was how he wanted her. “Do you really, truly like my new soccer ball sized tits?” she asked.

Of all the things she had experienced it was, in fact, the most difficult thing she had been forced to come to grips with. Daily, it seemed, she would decide to tell James she wanted her implants removed. However, each time she faced him she failed to tell him her wishes, imagining his disappointment. After a few months of inner turmoil she came to accept her new breasts.

 

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