Chapter 1: So Close

Caution: This BDSM Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Fa/Fa, Consensual, Romantic, Reluctant, Lesbian, Heterosexual, BDSM, DomSub, MaleDom, Spanking, Humiliation, Group Sex, Safe Sex, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Masturbation, Petting, Sex Toys, Squirting, Exhibitionism, Voyeurism, .

Desc: BDSM Sex Story: Chapter 1: So Close - A rookie Dom and a newbie sub, who is armed and possibly dangerous, explore D/s.



Dear Reader: This chapter of Ron and Cindy's exploration of D/s does not have any mind-blowing, thundering orgasms or hot rigid cocks spurting ropes of cum all over whatever your favorite target is, however, it is background material that is essential for your understanding and appreciation of the characters and situations that they find themselves in when the hot and heavy sex erupts in the following chapters. So, please take the time to wade through this chapter so I won't be bombarded with e-mail questions about subsequent chapters that I have carefully tried to explain in this introduction.

Thank you.

She slouched in the chair, shoulders hunched forward and chin buried on her chest. Her body looked as if it had been carelessly flung down and then deflated. Bare arms hung loosely over the sides of the comfortable armchair. Her eyes were puffy and streaks ran down her cheeks, continuing down her chest and curling around into the hollow between her breasts before disappearing into the band of her bra. The TV across the room was on, but unnoticed, and the Mountain Dew on the side table hadn't been touched. At that moment, the young woman in the chair looked much older than her twenty-four years. It had been a bad day.

Her favorite professor had gone to great lengths to warn all his students that a career in Criminal Justice would not always be easy, but nothing he'd said had prepared her for this day. She couldn't get the visions of the tow-headed little boy out of her mind. In one he was lying on a hospital bed that was so big that it made his little 4 year old body look even tinier. One arm was encased in a cast and his fractured skull was completely wrapped in bandages. However, the earlier image, caught through the telephoto lens pointed into the dirty window of the rundown house, was the horror that she couldn't shake. She was at the monitor when the boy's supposed father picked him up by the arm and slammed his defenseless little body into the wall. Her skin crawled as the images replayed in her mind

Then there was the blur of images that followed. She had been out of the van and running toward the house before her surveillance partner had any chance to react. There was a vivid image of the moment that she had the bastard in her sights in the filthy living room — her eyes locked on his — pleading silently for him to do something that would justify her pulling the trigger. The look on her face challenged him — dared him — to make a move, to do something, anything. But the son of a bitch had waited until her partner burst into the house before he reacted. Then it was too late. She had been so close to shooting her first person. She had been so close to killing another human being. Her mind reeled; the shock of what she had almost done still hadn't fully set in. And the fear lurked deep in the recesses of her mind that she would have done it.

Then there had been the chaos: wrestling the drunken perp to the floor while trying to keep the flailing bodies away from the little boy crumpled against the wall, the back-up units finally arriving to finish the job, the EMTs working over the child, the blood and the grime and the mess. Now there was one tiny, broken child in intensive care, two older children in state care, a bereaved mother, strung out on pills, alone in a squalid shack and a drunken father in the holding cell looking at ten to fifteen years for something that he probably will have no recollection of ever doing.

But, this wasn't his first trip to the drunk tank. And not the first time one of her kids had been hospitalized. This time, however, they had everything the DA would need to put the creep away for a long time. This time they wouldn't have to rely on the kids' flakey mom to testify. The stake-out had taken long hours and intense dedication, but this time the evidence was captured on video and couldn't be blackmailed into not testifying. This time they had nailed him red handed. Signed, sealed and delivered! But, if it was all over, why couldn't she feel any sense of accomplishment? Satisfaction? Relief? Why did she feel so drained and empty?

The knock on the door jolted the woman in the chair as if she had been shocked. She rose to her feet and had taken one step toward the door when she realized who it had to be. Her heart sank even further into the depths of despair when she remembered that she had promised to meet Ron for dinner. They had gone out on vanilla dates twice in the almost three weeks since he had shown her and everyone else at Jack and Laura's her submissive side. She glanced through the peephole in her front door and saw his tall handsome figure in the lens. Her heart stopped. Desperately, she tried to think over what options she had. She couldn't claim that she wasn't home; her cruiser was parked out front in her reserved space. Her head spun, her entire body shook, and the tears started to flow anew. She had no choice but to open the door and beg him for mercy. She had failed him!

She waited until he raised his arm to knock a second time and slowly opened the door, peeking around the edge, hiding her nakedness behind it. He just stood there examining the tears pouring down her cheeks until she realized that she had to invite him in. Slowly, she opened the door wider, staying behind it, until he could step into her small apartment. She let the door close itself behind him, wrapped her arms around her chest and sobbed, "I'm so sorry, Ron, I..."

"Silence!" His voice had that familiar command presence to it that she hadn't heard since that Saturday when he had awakened her hidden nature. She looked up to meet his glare and he transfixed her with his deep green eyes. With nothing more than a look, he pinned her soul just as an entomologist would pin an insect to his collection board. Without further thought, she slowly sank to her knees in front of him, her head bowed, knees apart and her hands at her sides. She shook violently and the tears ran off her chin onto the carpet below. She desperately tried to control her sobbing, but failed again.

"I told you to be silent." He said the words firmly, but not harshly, leaving no doubt that it was a command.

She struggled, holding her breath until she almost blacked out. But she finally managed. The sobbing had ended, but she still shook violently. Her sinuses drained through her nose and the mucus ran down over her lips to merge with her tears. Standing behind her, silent and motionless, he watched her battle for control, patiently allowing her time to compose herself.

What am I going to do? How can I let him do this to me? How can this possibly feel right?

He had never been inside her apartment before. Looking around the neat, tidy home, he smiled inwardly. Leaving her where she knelt, he stepped across the living room and switched off the TV. A deathly quiet hung in the air, broken only by her gasping as she struggled for air. He noticed her uniform shirt and body armor on the dining table. Her belt and pistol had been carefully wrapped and placed on the side table near the door to the bedroom. A box of tissues on the table beside her chair caught his eye and he took a small handful back to where she knelt. Bending over, he took a few tissues and gently wiped her face. Then he held the remaining tissues under her nose.

"Blow."

She blew her nose long and hard. Glancing up towards him, she started to voice her thanks until he gently pressed his finger to her parted lips. Instead of saying anything, she kissed the finger that robbed her of her voice... and her will. Lowering her head again, she continued the struggle to compose herself. Gradually, she was winning.

How can he be so kind and yet so demanding? What is it that requires me to completely surrender my will to his?

He found the trash can where he expected - under the sink in the kitchen - and disposed of the soaked tissues. Stepping back into the living room, he gazed down at her, kneeling by the door, her earlier tremors now reduced to shivers.

"Come here, Pet," he demanded calmly.

She struggled to her feet, abruptly aware of how exhausted she really was and stumbled toward him, regaining her balance as she came. He watched her cross the room, admiring her inner beauty. Even with her face red and puffy from crying, and her sturdy young body dressed in a plain white bra, uniform pants and black shoes, he found her very attractive. As she approached him, he handed her the rest of her outfit from the table.

"Put these away."

She took the shirt and armor and headed into her bedroom. He followed, taking in the neat, feminine décor for the first time. After she draped her vest over its stand in the corner and hung up her shirt, she stood in front of her closet, unsure of what to do.

"Strip."

Her eyes pleaded with him desperately, but he merely stood before her impassively. When she slowly brought her hands to the front of her pants, her fingers shook so badly that she couldn't unfasten the button.

Oh, please, Sir. Don't make me. I don't have anything left to give!

Without a word, he stepped close to her and reached between her useless fists. The tears were again flowing across her cheeks. Gently undoing the button and carefully lowering the zipper, he stepped back and left her to the rest of the task. She dropped to one knee and untied one shoe and then the other. Slipping them and her anklets off one at a time, she rose back up and dropped her pants to the floor, stepping out of them.

Hesitating as if she was uncertain what to do next, she stood before him, dressed only in her bra and plain white cotton panties. Her head hung down and her shoulders sagged forward in resignation. She gasped when she saw him kick off his loafers and reach for his belt.

How can he? I can't do it. Not now. Not after the day that I've had.

"Hang your clothes up, Pet," he said as he walked into her bathroom, leaving her to her chore. She scrambled to put away her shoes and hang up her pants. She was standing before the closet when he returned from the bathroom, unbuttoning his shirt.

"All of it," he said and there was no doubt as to what he meant.

Resigned to her fate, she unfastened her bra, letting the straps slide off her shoulders and catching the cups as they fell away from her firm breasts. She had done this for him once before, she considered, so, why was it so difficult this time? She held the bra in one hand while she slipped her panties down her legs and off her feet. Finally, she stood naked before him with her dirty underwear hanging from her hand. Her eyes were dull and almost lifeless, her face now emotionless. She barely reacted when he slid his pants and underwear off and added them to the shirt on her bed.

"Lead the way," he ordered, gesturing her toward the bathroom. She stumbled through the door, in a confused daze, and dropped her underwear in the hamper. His hand guided her to a spot by the wall near the shower. Opening the door and reaching in, he turned on the water and adjusted the temperature as it warmed up. Once to his liking, he held the door for her to enter. She stepped in and was startled when he followed her.

Oh, my God! What is he doing? I've never shared a shower with a man!

The shower stall was big enough for one person, but a little confined for two. He readjusted the stream of hot water cascading from the shower head and, with his hand resting gently on the base of her neck, guided her head under the flow. He held her there, letting the hot water soak her short brunette hair and pour down her aching body. When she tried to reach toward her head, he gently pressed her arms back down to her sides. With her head tilted forward, he guided it around until the stream of water had beaten evenly on her entire scalp. Then he gently turned her around, rinsed a washcloth and wrung it out. Turning the shower spray toward the wall, he tilted her chin up, brushed her hair back from her forehead with his fingers and gently wiped her face with the damp cloth.

She opened her eyes and looked deeply into his. Completely confused, she let him know with her look that she would no longer resist anything he demanded of her. She was now totally lost. He dispassionately noted the change in her and reached for the shampoo. Squirting a generous portion directly onto her hair, he returned the bottle to its shelf and began to work the lotion into her hair, taking care that none escaped down her forehead. As his strong fingers worked the lather deep into her scalp, she felt a mountain of cares fall from her shoulders.

Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmm. That does feel good.

He turned the spray of hot refreshing water back onto her head and thoroughly rinsed her hair. Deflecting the stream further down and to the side, he turned her around, facing away from him and squeezed a dollop of conditioner onto her head. As he methodically worked the lotion into her hair, she eased herself back until her body nestled against his solid frame. She delighted in being this close to him. So close. Satisfied with her hair, he reached around her and squirted a generous amount of her fragrant body wash onto the pouf. He washed her arms, one at a time, and let them drop back to her sides when he was done. Then he gently bent her forward and ran the pouf across her shoulders a number of times, letting the cleanser cascade down her back.

Turning her so that her left shoulder was almost touching the corner of the shower at the door, he used the pouf in his right hand to methodically wash the front of her while his bare left hand used the foam spilling down her back to simultaneously clean her other side. She was trapped between two strong, sensuous hands gliding across her exhausted, aching body on slick soapy films. When the pouf reached her breasts, her head tilted back involuntarily and her back arched to press her sensitive flesh further into the delightful feelings that were washing over her. As much as she silently pleaded, he didn't linger on her firm mounds that now suffered a different ache, instead moving downward toward her waist, across her belly and her back.

This is heavenly! I could let him do this to me for the rest of eternity.

She was momentarily startled when the delightful hands continued below her waist. Her body stiffened until she recalled her pledge: she would not resist. She fought to relax when one hand roamed across a firm cheek and the other over her mons. They both kept up their steady downward progress, washing her hips and her ass cheeks. When a hand ventured into her cleft and the pouf curled under her pussy to meet it, she closed her eyes, her knees opened of their own accord and her body responded by thrusting her hips forward and back. Any shreds of modesty that she thought she might have left were gone. And, after his hands had moved on, she tried to cling to the sensations that had shot through her core under their touch. He cleaned down one leg, lifting her foot and then repeated the motions for the other leg. All too soon, she was guided back under the refreshing spray and thoroughly rinsed, his wonderful hands again sweeping purposefully over her flesh.

When he turned off the water, she gracefully pivoted around and tried to wrap her arms around his neck, only to suffer more confusion and disappointment when he again pushed her arms back to her sides and eased her body away from his. Her eyes flew open and her look of outrage was met by his steady glare. Quickly realizing her mistake, she melted back into the wall of the shower and dropped her head, trying to express her apology through her demeanor. Satisfied for the moment, he opened the shower door and reached out to grab one of the bath towels that he had laid on the edge of the sink. As she started to reach for the towel, he lifted it just out of her reach. Again, she recognized her error and quickly dropped her hands back to her sides.

Why is this so hard for me to learn? Why do I constantly let him down?

The tears started again, but this time he was there to gently dry them away and she had herself back under control promptly. He gently guided her toward him until she was standing painfully close. Her body ached to press into his and allow her to lose herself in his strength. But it wasn't to be and she resigned herself to the thrilling sensations of his ministrations. He briskly fluffed her hair dry with the towel before letting the terry fabric wrap around her nakedness. Again he used one hand on her front and one on her back to efficiently run the towel across her skin. He worked steadily, pausing at her breasts and her pussy much too briefly for her liking. The rough cloth slid across her partially erect nipples, sending delicious sensations flooding her nervous system. She allowed a frustrated moan to escape her lips and quickly turned her eyes to meet his expected glare, but he didn't respond. He must have ignored the sound and she mischievously flirted with the idea of carefully exploring her non-spoken vocal limits.

This man is so good to me!

Wrapping the towel around her head, turban style, he gently guided her out of the shower. He told her to finish drying her hair. Stepping out of the stall behind her, he dried himself with the other towel he had laid out. Pulling her hairbrush and hair dryer out of the vanity, she blew the remaining moisture out of her hair. Her hair was thick and rich, but, since she kept it cut short, it was dry in just a few minutes. Ron had taken her towel from where she had draped it across the toilet and, after she sprayed on her deodorant, she tentatively peeked out of the bathroom door to find that he had spread the towel across her bed.

"Come here, Pet."

Surprisingly, she felt almost ready to give him anything that he wanted of her. So close. She stepped confidently into the bedroom only to be surprised yet again when he slipped his dark grey boxer-briefs up over his half-erect cock and wrapped his towel around his waist. The look of consternation on her face must have amused him, because he smiled broadly.

"You look so beautiful, Pet. Lie down on the towel. On your belly," he instructed, "and close your eyes."

She did as she was told and waited. She heard him in the bathroom briefly and then the bed shifted under his weight.

He said that I looked beautiful. What a sweet man.

SMACK! The sharp sound occurred at the same instant that a searing jolt of pain shot from her ass to her brain. She flinched and let an involuntary, "Ow!" escape her lips. Then she cringed, expecting the next slap. But, it never came.

What did I do to deserve that? Oh! I know! Maybe he's trying to teach me that silence doesn't mean no noise at all. Hmmm.

She heard the click of a plastic bottle cap opening and something cool was squirted across her shoulders and down her spine. The sound of another squirt that didn't result in any more coolness on her skin made her wonder until she realized that the other sound she heard was his hands rubbing together. When he laid his hands on her shoulders and began to slide them easily across her skin, leaving a cool sensation where they had passed, she realized that he was moisturizing her skin. He began to massage the lotion into the muscles of her neck and she let her body go completely limp, giving in to his strong hands as they absorbed all the tension that had accumulated over the recent days. Then they continued their therapy on her back, dragging the stiffness out of the long suffering muscles there.

But, sobbing is not allowed. This could be trickier than I thought.

She smiled at her clever deductions, but decided that she had better not push her luck. Working his way down her torso, he applied more moisturizer as he went. His hands kneaded the fleshy globes of her ass, soothing the sting that his palm had left on the one, and sending flashes of energy shooting through her jangled nervous system. Working down the backs of her thighs, he ran his thumbs down their tender insides. Her legs spread themselves apart giving him better access; it wasn't something that she consciously willed. His fingers worked deep into the stiffness in her thighs and calves. The aching muscles complained at first, but she fought to ignore the shooting pains, knowing that he would make them go away.

What did I do to deserve this? Would he still do this for me if he knew what sort of person I really am?

Then he arrived at her feet and she felt her first taste of euphoric bliss. He skillfully massaged, poked, rubbed, kneaded and moisturized her tired, sore feet until they tingled. She could feel the blood rushing to parts of her dogs that only hours ago had been howling. The long days that she had spent on the stakeout had punished them sorely and his magic hands set them free. Quiet mewling sounds escaped from her lips; she wasn't testing her silence limits, she hardly even realized that she was making them. At that moment in time, her mind was far away. But, as in all good things, it came to an end. His voice dragged her back to the present.

"Roll over, Pet."

She languidly complied with his order, forcing her body to roll over on the towel. As she arranged herself comfortably, she suddenly realized that she hadn't made the effort to shave her pussy in the time that she had been stalking the abuser. She gasped, her body froze and her hands flew to cover the coarse, dark stubble that she knew would displease him. Her eyes flew open to find his steadily boring into her soul. Nothing was said; they maintained eye contact for what seemed to be an eternity, his stern gaze fixed on her panic stricken brown orbs. Tears welled in the corners of her eyes as she slowly dropped her arms back to her sides.

I failed him again. And there's nowhere I can hide. Oh, please forgive me, Sir!

"I told you to close your eyes."

Damn! Damn! Damn! Why can't I remember the simplest thing?

His hands gently worked at spreading the moisturizer up her legs towards the source of her embarrassment. Her body involuntarily tensed as his touch reached her womanhood and then melted when he stroked his long fingers over the offending stubble, evenly coating her pussy with the lotion. The severely conflicting emotions that whirled around her brain almost made her dizzy: pleasure, anguish, shame, delight, fear, desire. She vaguely took notice of the heat within her that battled with the cooling lotion. She didn't realize just how close she was at that instant. So close.

All too soon, his hands moved on, sliding easily over her hips and belly, across her ribs and gently over her firm round breasts. Her nipples were harder than they had been in ages, standing proudly erect and oh so sensitive. But, the hands, that made her willing to do anything to please him, again moved on, sweeping across her collar bones and departing off her shoulders. She lay there for moments after his weight had left the bed, savoring the delightful feelings that enveloped her. So close.

Anything he wants. No doubts, no reservations.

"Let's get moving, Pet. You need to get dressed for dinner."

Her eyes flew open to see him buttoning up his shirt. Total confusion flooded her brain. This was about the last thing that she had expected. He already had his pants and shoes on.

What is he doing to me? Why is he doing this to me?

The look in his eyes subtly began to change and she abruptly realized that she was in danger of again displeasing him. She leapt from the bed and hurried to her dresser only to draw up short in a quandary. She turned to him and started to ask him what she should wear, only to snap her mouth shut a scant instant before she made yet another blunder. The look she flashed him could not have been mistaken for anything but panic.

"Dress for casual dining. You would look lovely in a blouse and skirt," he casually instructed.

Cindy collected herself and opened her lingerie drawer. There they were - on top of all her plain white utilitarian underwear - the tiny red lace bra and thong set that she had recently bought just for him. She reached for them and froze. She couldn't allow herself to splurge on expensive frills, her budget was tight enough as it was, so they had been a special treat. And her romantic fantasies had all revolved around how good they would look on her as he peeled off her clothes, not how they would look while he watched her put them on. She almost made up her mind and reached for them only to hesitate again.

"Maybe I'll just take you as you are," his voice said casually, but a chill ran down her spine.

You wouldn't!

Just then, her mind flashed back to that fateful Saturday at Jack and Laura's when he had ordered her to strip. And how she had. And how he had led her into their house and introduced her to everyone, stark naked. It didn't matter that everyone else had been nude, he had commanded her to take off all her clothes and she had acquiesced. Her mind reeled; suddenly she realized that she was powerless to prevent him from doing the same thing again.

Her mind made up, she pulled the package from the drawer, fastened the bra around her chest and slid her arms through the straps. She smoothed the flimsy cups over her breasts, running her fingers lightly over the stiff nipples, and noticed in her mirror that he was sitting in her rocking chair across the room, admiring her. Returning to the task at hand, she pulled out the scrap of fabric that matched the bra. Her first thong. Never before had she considered wearing anything so wanton. Even the bottoms of her bikinis covered most of her crack. Carefully putting her feet through the straps, she slid the tiny item up her legs to her waist. Stepping back to get a better view in the dresser mirror, she was shocked at how little it covered. Turning around to see the back, she felt the blush rise in her cheeks.

Why am I more embarrassed to wear this than to be naked?

"Are those new, Pet?"

She looked back at him, a sheepish grin across her face, and nodded.

"Very pretty, Pet. You look delicious."

She felt the heat rise in her core. Reaching into another drawer, she pulled out a pair of nude pantyhose.

"No."

Frozen in place, she glanced at him in her mirror. His frown of disapproval reinforced what she thought he had meant. The pantyhose went back into the drawer. Next, she reached into another drawer and selected a nice, light half slip, turning toward him and holding it in front of her. He simply shook his head. Then she modeled her favorite camisole for him and again he shook his head. She felt her anger flare up inside her. She was close to losing it. So close.

Well, you might as well take me naked, if you won't let me wear anything I own!

He pulled out his cell phone and snapped it open. "I'm going to make our reservations for 7:30. It will take us at least a half hour to get there. That leaves you less than twenty minutes to get ready." He selected a number from the menu and put the phone up to his ear. Cindy felt a sense of panic override her anger. Quickly running through her wardrobe selections in her mind, she eliminated most of it before her dark green pleated skirt came to mind. It was lined and yet light enough for summer wear, but she hadn't worn it in months!

Please, Lord, let me still be able to fit into it.

She dove into her closet as she heard what she thought was him addressing someone by their first name. Digging through her meager selection of personal clothes, she found what she was searching for. Holding it up, she checked it closely for cleanliness and was relieved to find it wearable. Now, her quandary was what would go with it. The only thing she could think of was her new white blouse, but it was much too sheer to wear without something underneath it. Still, she couldn't think of anything else. Not that wasn't in the cleaners. Finding the blouse on its hanger, she stepped out of her closet and held the blouse and skirt in front of her for his approval.

"OK, Henri. That will do nicely," he said into the phone. Snapping it shut, he looked to her and pronounced, "Very nice selection, Pet."

She felt a warm glow at his approval and gave him a sincere smile.

Henri? He pronounced it like the French would. We're not going to McDonalds.

Holding her breath, she slipped her legs into the skirt and slid it up over her hips. First objective accomplished. Sucking her tummy in desperately, she slid the zipper up to the top. Gradually letting out her breath, she was pleasantly surprised to find that the skirt still fit her nicely. Snug, but not too tight. Glancing up to see his reflection in the mirror, she caught what she thought was a smirk on his face.

Men! They'll never understand!

Hurrying into the bathroom, she quickly applied her usual minimal makeup. Looking at herself in the mirror in the flimsy red bra, she decided to put on just a touch of eye shadow as well. And then some eyeliner. Just a very thin line, nothing excessive. If she was going to have to speak with her eyes tonight, they needed to be properly dressed. Then she brushed out her hair and let it fall naturally around her face. A pair of unobtrusive clips would keep any from straying into her face.

Finally satisfied, she hurried out into the bedroom, looking to see his reaction. He looked at her impassively, so she went to her dresser and again pulled out her favorite camisole and held it up in front of the white blouse. Again, he shook his head. She dropped the camisole back in the open drawer and turned to him with the blouse on the hanger. Running her hand up and down the inside of the blouse to emphasize how transparent it was, she pleaded with her eyes for him to reconsider.

"That's a very nice blouse, Pet. You'll look delightful in it."

When he looked at the time on his cell phone, Cindy finally resigned herself to her fate. She slipped into the blouse and buttoned it up to the neck, horrified at what she could see in the mirror. Her wicked red bra was easily visible through the fine material. As she carefully tucked her blouse in and adjusted her skirt, she decided that she might be able to distract some of the attention from her breasts by unbuttoning just the top two buttons and wearing a necklace.

Her jewelry selection was even more limited than her wardrobe, but she did have a nice gold cross and chain that would look good around her neck. The cross would hang right in the V of the blouse. And it might just make her look a little more God-fearing and respectable. She also had a nice gold bangle bracelet that she used to add a bit of color to her outfit. Her comfortable brown flats finished the ensemble. Turning around, she begged for his approval.

"Very pretty, Pet. But, don't you have some dressier shoes?"

Her initial annoyance rapidly vanished when it dawned on her that, indeed, she did. Diving back into her closet, she hunted in the back until she found the strappy black sandals with the two inch heels that she had almost completely forgotten she owned. She hadn't worn them in ages. It wasn't often that she had the opportunity to dress up. She held them up and showed them to him with a big smile on her face. He smiled back and she knew that she had pleased him. Slipping the shoes on her feet, she skipped over and closed the bedroom door to examine herself in the full length mirror. Twirling around slowly, she carefully examined her attire.

I wish I could be wearing more, but what there is does look pretty good. I just hope I don't run into anyone that I know. Mom would have kittens if ever she saw me in this outfit.

"That's my girl. I'd take you anywhere in that outfit."

Not to church, you wouldn't!

"You've even got two minutes to spare."

Cindy reached in the drawer of her bedside table and grabbed the holster that held her 9mm PF-9 and put it into her little black purse. She pulled her wallet, cell phone and key ring from her everyday purse and added the little emergency makeup kit as well. On the way out, she removed her badge from her uniform belt and stuffed it in. She caught up with Ron at the front door and he followed her out. His Mini was illegally parked directly behind her cruiser with the top down. Suddenly realizing that she didn't have a hairbrush with her, she stopped abruptly at the top of the stairs. Turning around, she made hair brushing motions to let him know what she had to go back for.

"I have one in the car, Pet," he said, turning her back around with his hands on her waist and gently urging her on. She skipped down the stairs, her sandals almost tripping her twice, until she got the feel of skipping on her toes. He was right behind her coming down the stairs and managed to reach the Mini's passenger door at the same time that she did. Graciously opening the door for her, he helped her in. She nestled back into the cool leather of the seat and fastened her seatbelt. Once he had settled into the driver's seat, clipped his cell phone into its holster on the dash, strapped in and started the engine, he pulled out of the parking lot. Turning right, they headed away from town. The hot summer evening sun was still well above the horizon.

I wonder where he's taking me.

She knew exactly where they were until they crossed the county line, heading east. She still had a fairly good idea of their location until he turned off the main highway and started driving down picturesque, back country roads. Two more turns and she was in unfamiliar terrain. She still could tell from the sun that they were heading in a generally easterly direction, but, other than that, she was lost. She gave up hopes of figuring out where they were going and let herself enjoy the fine weather and the pretty rural landscape. The wind blew through her hair and when she decided to take a risk and lay her hand on his hip, he didn't push it away. His slacks were smooth beneath her fingers and she didn't press her luck by trying to do anything more than let her hand rest gently on his muscular thigh. She realized that she felt a special thrill whenever she was this close to him. So close.

I wonder why I feel so safe and secure when I'm with him?

The music he had on the stereo was a mix of seductively suggestive jazz songs by the same woman that he had played for her on their second date. That is, their second date since she had accepted her submissive nature. She struggled to remember the singer's name. Diana something. Seems like her name had something to do with swimming. Or... Yes — Krall, that was it, Diana Krall. Cindy had let herself get so involved with remembering the singer's name that she almost missed the sign on the huge stone pillars that he turned between. She sat up straight when she read the metal plaque set in the stone: Idle Creek Country Club.

Definitely not McDonalds.

He drove down a winding drive lined by mature trees. To the right was the golf course and on the left she could see tennis courts and a swimming pool. The pool wasn't crowded; there were a few adults on the deck and a number of children splashing in the water. Ahead was an imposing stone building fronted by a large white columned portico.

Ron pulled the Mini into the parking lot to the right of the building and parked in the first empty spot. Reaching into the center console, he pulled out a hairbrush and handed it to her. She flipped down the visor and opened the lighted mirror. Putting up the top, he rolled the windows part way up as she ran the brush through her hair and checked her makeup. Taking the hairbrush from her, he brushed his thick black hair back from his forehead. He pocketed his cell phone and climbed out of the car, ignoring the chime that warned that the keys were still in the ignition. When he opened her door and offered her his hand, she looked up at him quizzically, pointing to the keys.

"It's safe here, Pet. Shall we eat?"

They walked across the parking lot at a leisurely pace, arm in arm. She felt a flush of pride steal up across her chest and over her neck. Just being with him made her tingle all over. He guided her up the front steps, through the imposing double doors, the huge ornate foyer and down the hallway to the left. It wasn't until the short, rotund man behind the counter at the doorway of the dining room looked down at her chest that she remembered that she was barely covered. She tightened her grip on Ron's arm and drew strength from him.

I can do this. If this is what he wants me to do, I can do it.

Her eyes steadily challenged the Maitre d's when he glanced back up from her red bra. She held her chin high and refused to let him intimidate her. He looked away from her to greet Ron by name and then led them through the large room, almost empty of diners, to a booth directly in front of a large picture window that overlooked a part of the golf course. The sun setting behind the tall trees threw long intricate shadows across the neatly manicured grass. It was quietly peaceful and comforting. She opened the fancy menu that the Maitre d' had placed before her on the table and was glancing through the selections when a smartly dressed waitress appeared at the table.

"Good evening, Frankie," Ron greeted her, familiarly. "How are the kids?"

"Good evening, Mr. Wexler. The kids are growing like weeds and eating me out of house and home,"

"Are you suggesting that I need to leave a bigger tip?"

"Oh, no, Mr. Wexler, you're always more than generous. Can I get you something from the bar?"

"I'll have my usual and the lady will have a Shirley Temple," Ron ordered with a wink that only the waitress could see.

"Do I need to check her ID?" Frankie asked.

"No, she's legal."

Oh, Ron. You know I don't drink alcohol.

Her eyes begged him to not get her drunk. She couldn't stand the smell of beer and had tried mixed drinks a few times in college only to find that she really dreaded feeling like she was losing control. Once when she had gone out with a few of her girlfriends, they had talked her into one drink too many. She had gotten violently ill and made an ugly mess. The following morning she felt so miserable that she hadn't had a drink since. When he wouldn't catch her eye, she reached across the table and squeezed his hand. He merely squeezed her hand back and continued to peruse the menu. Frustrated, she gave up and began studying her dinner choices. It took a moment for her to realize that there were no prices on the menu.

Frankie returned with their drink order and carefully served them both tall glasses on cocktail napkins. Ron's was a clear carbonated drink over ice with a slice of lime in it. Hers was a fizzy orange colored iced drink with a thin layer of some reddish liquid on top and a bright red cherry. A little paper umbrella stuck out of the top. Ron lifted his glass and offered her a salute. She raised her own glass to return the salute, lifting it to her lips when he took a sip from his drink. The decorative umbrella almost poked her in the eye. With a straight face, Ron reached across the table and pulled the hazard out of her glass and placed it on the table. She thought she noticed a twinkle in his eye.

Why does he play with me? Am I nothing more than a toy to him?

When she did take a tentative sip of her drink, she found it a tasty mix of fruit and spice. She could easily identify the orange and cherry flavors, but the other taste teased her palate momentarily until she realized that it was ginger. The soda must be ginger ale, she reasoned. She wondered what the liquor in it was. She didn't taste anything familiar, but, she realized, there were probably lots of liquors that she wouldn't recognize. The drink slipped down her throat easily, but her head told her to be very careful. The last thing she wanted was to get ill in a posh place like this.

Frankie was reciting the dinner specials for the evening. When she got to the broiled flounder stuffed with crabmeat, Cindy's eyes lit up. She didn't need to do more, because Ron held up his hand to stop Frankie's patter.

"The lady will have the fish with the rice pilaf and brocc..." He paused when Cindy wrinkled her nose. "Can she have the vegetable medley instead of the broccoli?" Cindy beamed her approval.

"Certainly, Sir."

"OK. I'll have the prime rib with the baked potato and broccoli. You know how I like it, don't you?"

"Yes, sir."

"And, we'll have the raspberry vinaigrette on the salads, please."

"Right away, Sir." She cleared the menus and disappeared.

Cindy mimed her awe of the surroundings and then tilted her head quizzically. Ron understood her question and replied, "One of the benefits of working at Parker, Hunter and James. All the full time attorneys get a club membership as part of the employment package. The partners are all avid golfers and go to great lengths to support the club."

She then raised her arm, made a motion as if she were swinging a tennis racket and tilted her head again. "I'd love to, Pet, but the doctor that reconstructed my knee in college told me that if I ever came back for another repair as a result of any athletic competition, the next operation would be done without anesthetic. I'm now pretty much limited to biking, swimming and golf. I might be able to get you into some of the club competitions, but it won't be against me." Cindy made an exaggerated pouting face and pretended to wipe a tear from her eye. She was beginning to enjoy the silent communication game.

Just as she was preparing to act out another question, the salads and fresh bread arrived. Ron waited for her as she bowed her head and said a silent blessing over the meal. When she had finished, they proceeded to eat with gusto. The salad servings were overly generous and she pushed hers aside when it was only half eaten, saving room for the main course. Before he had finished his salad, Frankie was again unloading her serving tray. Cindy was appalled to see that the thick slab of beef on his plate was almost raw. When she was growing up, meat served at her family's dining table had always been well done. His wasn't just a little pink, the center of the cut was red! Ron glanced up to catch her staring at his dinner with her mouth agape.

"How's the fish, Pet?" he asked as he cut himself a bite of the prime rib.

Snatched back to her senses, Cindy almost blundered by mumbling a standard response, barely catching herself at the last moment. She snapped her mouth shut, abruptly glancing up at him with a look of fear in her eye. Revolted, she watched as he put the piece of raw meat into his mouth and let his face relax into a look of delight. Ordering her stomach to calm down, she turned her attention to the properly cooked flounder. It was delicious. Delicately seasoned and absolutely scrumptious. Both the fish and the stuffing meats were moist and flavorful. After enjoying a few forkfuls, she looked back up at him and let the broad grin on her beaming face answer his question.

"I'm glad you like it. The food here has always been excellent."

Both of them ate heartily. Cindy was surprised at how hungry she was. Her dining opportunities during the recent stakeout had been limited to sandwiches and an occasional burger, so she wasn't in danger of rupturing a uniform seam with her indulgence. The crispy crusted bread and real butter that Frankie had served them disappeared along with every morsel on her plate. As she leaned back into the comfortably padded booth seat and relaxed after the lovely meal, she realized that she had even finished most of her drink.

Oh, no! I'll never be able to waddle in a straight line after this.

She watched him dip his last bit of bread into the juices on his plate and pop it into his mouth with a satisfied smile. He looked up at her and grinned. "Mmmmmm, good." She energetically nodded her head in agreement. They sat there for a few moments, staring deeply into each other's eyes before Frankie appeared at the table again.

"Was everything to your liking? Care for anything for dessert? We have..."

Ron held up his hand and answered, "I don't think we could possibly find room for another bite right now. Could we possibly come back a bit later?"

"I sorry sir, but we'll be closing the dining room in just a few minutes. But, if you're in the lounge later and you would like something, the bartender has access to the kitchen refrigerators."

"That sounds like a plan," Ron said as he wrote the amount of the tip and signed the chit that she had presented him. "Do you have any idea what is happening in the lounge tonight?"

"Oh, yes. I heard the managers talking about a new trio that they are auditioning. They asked them to come in and play a gig tonight as a trial run. I hear that they are quite good."

"We'll have to see. I hope that they can play something that normal people can dance to."

"Wow. Dinner and dancing? I must really be doing something right. I hope the alcohol doesn't make me feel too giddy."

Cindy's eyes were gleaming when he turned his attention back to her. He slipped out of the booth and offered her his hand. She took it with a coquettish smile and slid across the seat to her feet. Firmly grasping his proffered arm, she let her hip brush against his as they walked across the room. This time she carefully ignored the leering Maitre d'. She realized that she always seemed to feel comfortable when she was this close to him. So close. Ron guided her down the fancy hallway for a short way and turned her to the left through the next door.

I wonder if it's all the alcohol that is making me feel lightheaded.

She casually looked around the dimly lit lounge, paneled in dark wood and dominated by a bar that ran almost the length of the room. A few booths lined the opposite wall and an assortment of small high tables near the bar and larger regular height tables were arranged on the floor. Her eyes lit up when she saw the dance floor in front of the picture windows along the far wall and the stage area in the far corner. The trio on the stage was made up of saxophone, keyboard and drums. The three or four couples on the floor were swinging around briskly to a light jazzy tune.

Cindy hugged his arm even closer as he guided her to one of the regular tables just inside the door near the corner of the room opposite the band. He held her chair for her like a gentleman and, after she seated herself, she gave his hand a brief kiss before she released it. He gently squeezed her shoulder and then took the chair across from her.

I wonder if I could ever feel truly comfortable in these surroundings.

Cindy was stunned when she caught a glimpse of the waitress heading toward them. The tall black girl was dressed... , no, she was wearing a strapless black satin bustier that pushed her sizable breasts up and together on her chest, impossibly tall high heel shoes, black fishnet stockings and a tiny black satin skirt over what must have been panties covered with white ruffles. Her hair was corn rowed with dozens of silver beads woven into the braids that fell around her shoulders. In the dim light, the only thing visible was the whites of her eyes, her gleaming white teeth and her ridiculous panties. And the swaying beads in her hair. As the bar maid gracefully strolled across the room toward them on her stilts, Cindy stared at her openly until she sensed that she was being watched. She turned to catch his eyes on her, his lips turned up in just a hint of a smirk.

He's laughing at me again!

"Good evening, Mr. Wexler, what can I get for y'all?" she asked in a bit too much of a southern drawl. She pronounced it 'Mistah". Her voice was just a bit too honey smooth.

"Looks like you're busy tonight."

"For a weeknight, yeah," she replied and waited for an answer to her original question.

"I'm driving, Lilah, so I'll have a plain Collins mix and the lady will have a 69er, but, would you ask whoever is working the bar tonight to please serve it in a snifter, if they could."

No, Ron. Please, I beg of you, no! No more liquor! I'm already past my limit.

"Why, certainly, sir. I think that can be done. I'll be right back."

Cindy's pleading eyes did nothing to sway him. She held her almost pitiful gaze on him for the longest time, but he refused to budge. Frustrated and angry, she looked away to the dancers by the windows.

Just because he buys it for me doesn't mean that I have to drink the damn stuff. I'll show him!

But, the more she watched the dancers moving gracefully around the floor and the more the music worked its magic, the more she wanted to be out there in his arms, moving to the primal urges of the rhythm. She gradually felt her anger melt away. After all, how could she stay angry at a man who had been so wonderful to her? When she turned her head back to look into his eyes, her gaze tried to convey her desire to have his body swaying gently against hers on the dance floor. She didn't have to look down to know that her nipples were already poking out in the flimsy cups of her bra and she was grateful that the dim lighting wouldn't make her arousal obvious to everyone.

She reached her hands across the table and he took hers lightly in his. Her fingers glided over his palms, letting the gentleness of the caresses express her affection. They relaxed like that, gazing into each other's eyes until Lilah reappeared with their order. The bar maid smoothly placed the drinks on napkins on the table and Cindy was immediately fascinated by what was placed in front of her. She had never seen a snifter before and the squat stemmed glass with the bulbous globe that narrowed to a small rim at the top instantly piqued her curiosity.

And the drink inside it was almost as interesting. All that big glass and there was only a little liquid all the way in the bottom. She picked the glass up by its stem and looked through it. There was at most a quarter inch of clear liquid in the very bottom and another eighth of an inch or so of emerald green liquid floating on top of the clear stuff. She looked quizzically over the top of the drink at Ron, letting her eyes plead for some explanation.

"This is a drink that you want to be very careful with, Pet. Just take a little sip at a time and let it ease off the back of your tongue and down your throat. The snifter is designed the way it is so that you can slide your hand underneath it and hold the bowl of the glass in your palm."

He took the snifter from her and guided her hand so that her palm was facing up and her middle and ring finger separated. Then, he slid the stem between her open fingers and set the glass onto her palm. She let her hand cup around it and waited for him to continue.

"When you swirl the drink around the bottom of the glass, your hand warms it and releases the aromas of the liqueurs. Then you put the glass up to your nose and inhale before you take a sip. That's why it's called a snifter. Give it a try."

She had already caught a whiff of mint from the direction of the drink and her curiosity easily overruled any caution that she might have been able to muster. She moved her hand in a gentle circular motion and the liquid flowed thickly around in the bottom of the glass. When she brought the glass to her nose, the incredibly powerful aroma of mint mingled with the rich smell of chocolate. Steeling her nerve, she turned the glass up and let a little of the liquid dribble onto the top of her tongue. She closed her mouth and savored a liquid peppermint patty. The invisible vapors coming from the top of the glass filled her sinuses with the delicious smells as she let the sip ease its way down the back of her throat. It had the consistency of a good cough syrup and warmed her throat all the way down without burning. She felt like her entire head was engulfed in chocolate mint.

"Whew!" she said and immediately froze when she realized that she had spoken. She looked into his eyes with a feeling of dread only to see him smile. Slowly willing her suddenly tense muscles to relax, she made up her mind to try something a little more daring. She could always blame it on all the alcohol that he had forced on her. She twirled her drink around the bottom of the glass again and took a larger sip this time. Again the enveloping aroma of chocolate mint teased her brain. This time she sensually ran her tongue over her lips before swallowing the heady mixture. Easing up out of her chair, she smoothly slid around the table and leaned down before him, presenting her moist puckered lips to be kissed. He fell for the bait and set his lips to devouring hers. Her arms slipped around his neck as she really became lightheaded.

This man sure knows how to kiss! My God, I think I'm floating."

When their lips eased apart, he whispered, "You certainly taste good, Pet. Would you care to dance?"

She practically dragged him out of his chair by the neck. He made quite a production of fighting her off until they both dissolved into fits of laughter. Hand in hand, they weaved their way between the tables until they reached the dance floor. There, he took her in his arms and led her onto the floor and into the dance. Cindy was surprised to find that he was a strong dancer with a sure lead. After a moment's hesitation, she gave herself up to him and fell under the spell of the music. The first few tunes that they danced to were a comfortable tempo for stretching their legs and moving gracefully around the floor. He put her through her paces, twirling her around occasionally and allowing her the freedom to let her feet express her joy while he kept them clear of the other dancers. He skillfully showed her off, always in control, but making sure that she was the one in the spotlight.

As the other couples either left or moved away from the center of the floor, Ron noticed that they had all the room they needed and he gradually lengthened his step and sped up his turns, swinging her wider and faster as they went. He got the impression that the musicians started playing more to their lead, because the beat seemed to become a bit more insistent and the music a little louder. Her face was aglow, slightly flushed and showing a trace of glistening across her brow and upper lip. The next song was lighter and more sedately paced. He drew her into his arms and they moved effortlessly together. They gazed into each other's eyes for the entire number.

Finally, the trio relaxed into a slow, erotic tune that Cindy recognized. They had been listening to it on the ride to the club. Resting her head on his shoulder, she melted into his arms. Her taut nipples bored into his chest and her belly found his. Her thighs moved sensually against his as they swayed to the music. The heat in her body seemed to focus itself in her loins. She hummed along with the music.

How appropriate. "All or Nothing at All." What a fitting song for our first dance. I'll remember this moment for the rest of my days.

The song came to an end and the musicians announced that they would be back after a short break. Ron and Cindy walked slowly back across the room and they heard a smattering of applause as they passed. When they got back to their table, Lilah was waiting for them.

"The boss said y'all earned yourselves a round on the house. What can I get y'all?"

"Thank you, Lilah. We'll have two glasses of ice water."

"That all, sir?"

"That's all."

Ron watched the scantily clad bar maid saunter away from the table and commented, "I'll bet that you would look fantastic in an outfit like that, Pet."

Cindy had also been watching the girl leave the table with completely different thoughts in her mind. Her head snapped around meet his gaze with a horrified look on her face. Shaking her head vehemently, she held her hands out to her sides, indicating the size of her hips. It wasn't that she had a poor self-image; Cindy was well aware of her shape and it would not look good with silly white ruffles drawing attention to one of the less attractive parts of her body. She often joked with her college classmates that, if she had been a horse, she certainly would not have been a Clydesdale, but then again, she would have been much closer to a quarter horse than an Arabian.

On her high school tennis team, she had been third seed in singles, but played first team doubles, where her reflexes and quickness made up for her lack of range. Her broad hips and muscular thighs were ideal for quick bursts of speed, but her legs weren't long enough to cover the entire court by herself. They did, however, hold her in good stead in the FOP gym; few of the male officers on the force could do a full set of squats with their own body weight on their shoulders. And she always enjoyed a personal thrill when a new officer or a visitor would offer to help her load the weights on the leg press machine only to gape when she knocked out three or four sets with 200 lbs. on it. No, from the waist down, Cindy knew that she was more functional than decorative. Ron watched her go through whatever she was thinking and laughed aloud when she crossed her arms in front of herself, crossed her eyes and bent forward in her chair.

"You may excuse yourself to go to the ladies room whenever you wish. You don't need permission."

She wiped her forehead in mock relief, picked up her purse and headed for the restrooms. The ladies room was large, well appointed, and, best of all, spotless. She sat down in a stall and relieved herself, gradually cooling down to normal temperature. He sure had given her a nice workout on the dance floor. She silently wished for more. This had already been more fun than she had enjoyed in quite some time. Taking the opportunity, she checked her cell phone for messages. There were three new messages and all of them could wait 'til the next day. While she was washing and rinsing her hands and face at the sink, she looked at herself in the mirror. After drying off, she stood in front of the mirror and imagined herself in Lilah's bustier. Pressing her breasts upward and together with her hands, she admired the modest cleavage that she was able to develop.

Now, that might look nice, but those ruffles are a non-starter. No way, Jose.

She did note ruefully that there was no disguising the proudly erect nipples that were determined to poke through the flimsy material restraining them. She let out a sigh, put on a fresh coat of lip gloss and turned to leave, but, before even reaching the door, she returned to the mirror to add a little more eye shadow to her eyes. Not too much, just a little more to make her eyes look bigger. She almost made it out the door the next time, but again found herself back at the mirror. Looking at herself closely, she finally reached up and unbuttoned the third button of her blouse and then, after a short pause, the fourth. The neck of her blouse now spread open all the way to the tops of her breasts.

I might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb. I wonder if he'll even notice. It's all his fault for getting me drunk, anyway.

Ron did notice. He noticed the change in her from across the room and smiled inwardly. It wasn't just the blouse that caught his eye, it was the way she carried herself proudly. Progress, not perfection. That's the mantra that they had tried to instill in all the patients at the rehab he had gone to. And, even a year later, he still heard it regularly. His Domme mentor had warned him that Cindy might be a really difficult nut to crack, and he was beginning to believe her, but he was convinced that he was making progress. And Maria had cautioned them both to go slowly in exploring the lifestyle. He was willing to be patient; as patient as was required. As he watched Cindy stride confidently across the room he thought to himself, "She's certainly worth whatever effort it takes."

Cindy caught him watching her as she returned from the restroom. She let a smile spread across her face and her hips swayed just a little more than her normal walk. Nothing overtly sexual; just a hint of her interest. Her eyes lit up when she saw the tall glass of water at her place on their table. Seating herself gracefully, she nodded her thanks at his thoughtfulness before draining half the glass. Licking her lips, she puckered up and blew him a kiss. He grinned and recoiled his head as if her kiss had smacked him on the cheek. They shared a quiet laugh at their games. Holding her arms out in a dance position, she smiled broadly and tilted her head in her questioning manner. It took him a moment to understand what she was asking and then he laughed again.

"My high school basketball coach required everyone on the team to take ballroom dancing lessons. He claimed that it would improve our balance and footwork. I don't know if it was a factor or not, but we were his first team to make the state play-downs. Lost the first game, but, at least we got that far. And that got me an athletic scholarship to play roundball at State, where I destroyed my knee. Then, when I was in law school, I earned some spending money working in a local dance studio, teaching overweight, middle-aged housewives how to samba. The work wasn't difficult; the hardest part was keeping a straight face."

She chuckled at his comments and indulged herself in another tiny sip from the snifter. The taste was so strong and rich that she was certain that it had to be sinful. At least she wouldn't have to worry about her breath. Simultaneously noticing the musicians' return, they let a quick shared glance confirm their mutual desires. He reached out his hand and she was halfway out of her chair before she could reach it. They returned to the dance floor with three or four other couples as the trio got their instruments ready. This set began with a slow number and retained a mellow mood throughout. The dancers held each other close and moved easily with the music.

This is absolutely heavenly.

Cindy let her body melt into his arms. They swayed gracefully across the floor, gently moving against one another. He led her easily; she felt his rhythm in her core and responded to his every move. Her body longed for the touch of his thigh between hers. She let the romantic notes weave their spell and her legs responded to the primal urge. The seductive purr of the saxophone worked its magic inside her head. Part of her was vaguely aware that he was responding to the moment also. The bulge that had developed between their groins announced his arousal. Her temperature was creeping higher than earlier in the evening when they had been dancing to the faster tempo. A satisfied smile graced her face.

All too soon, the keyboard player announced that they would take a short break before they played the final set of the night. The dancers scattered to the bar or back to their tables and Ron and Cindy joined the flow. When they reached their table, he picked up her purse and handed it to her. Looking deep into her eyes just inches from her face, he whispered, "Pet, I want you to go into the ladies room, take off your panties and bring them back here and put them in my hand."

Cindy froze, a shocked look on her face. She had heard what he ordered her to do, but her mind wouldn't allow her to comprehend it. When he gently pushed her away from the table, she stumbled toward the restroom in a daze. Her legs carried her where she had been ordered to go while her mind struggled to come to grips with her instructions. The tears were beginning to flow as she slipped past the other women, pushed her way into the only unoccupied stall and sat down on the toilet. She fought to stay quiet so that the other women in the room wouldn't hear her distress. Looking down at the flimsy scrap of material and tiny straps draped around her ankles, she realized that he was demanding that she give up more than a mere piece of clothing. He expected her to voluntarily give up her dignity, her respect, her pride. She had never been in public without underwear in her life.

My mother never raised me to be this kind of woman. Why is he demanding this of me? How can I let him do this to me?

She struggled to let her reason control her runaway emotions. She knew all too well that to defy her Master meant she would be punished and there also was no doubt that tonight he was her Master. And, the Mexican bitch at Jack and Laura's had made it clear that if she refused to cooperate completely during her training, it could mean the end of it. She could lose him. She might be rejected and never allowed to see him again. Diana Krall's sultry voice came back to haunt her.

"All or Nothing at All." How fitting. I have no choice.

Cindy sat there, frozen, until she couldn't hear anyone else in the room. Slowly, she reached down to take off her brand new red thong. She had been so proud of herself for buying it for him, but never in her worst nightmare had she dreamt that she would have to give it up to him like this. Not that she hadn't planned on giving it up, she just never imagined doing in a public place. As she untangled the straps from around her feet, she suddenly realized that the tiny bit of material was soaking wet. Her heart stopped. She hadn't realized how aroused her body had become while they were dancing. She knew in the back of her mind that he had gotten hard, but she had been unaware of the level of her own need.

My God! If I do what he told me to do, he'll know! What will he think of me?

Desperately forcing herself to do as she was told, she wadded up the damp scrap in her hand. She wiped herself off and used another wad of toilet tissue to dry the swollen lips of her pussy. Easing open the door of the stall, she poked her head out to make sure that she was alone. At the sinks, she puzzled over what to do with her thong. She couldn't lay it out on the counter for anyone to walk in and see, so she reached for her purse, only to realize that she couldn't put it in there because of the musky smell it might leave on everything. Finally, she stuffed it between her thighs and held it there while she washed up and repaired the damage her tears had wrought on her make-up. Finally prepared as best she could, she retrieved her last shred of modesty and stepped shakily out of the door.

Ron had begun to worry. He had signed his bar chit so they wouldn't have that detail to take care of later and had chatted with one of his fellow lawyers at PH&J who had been sitting there. Frank was spending all too much of his time at the club lately. His wife had recently left him, taking their two younger children with her to another state and he couldn't stand to spend his evenings alone in their huge empty house. Fortunately, he was very careful about his drinking and actually seemed to be in fairly good spirits. He was the ideal person to help out and had readily agreed when Ron explained what he needed him to do. Frank worked in corporate and business tax law, so it was highly unlikely that Cindy had ever seen him in court and would recognize him. Now, Ron was wondering if maybe he had pushed her too far, too fast. He certainly didn't want to lose her.

He tried to conceal the relieved look on his face when she finally emerged from the ladies room. Her purse was in one hand and the other hand was balled up tightly in a fist. He smiled knowingly and offered her his arm. Hesitating momentarily, she finally accepted. They walked slowly back to the table and he held her chair for her to sit down. She tried to put on a brave face, but her smile looked forced. Sitting down across from her, he reached his hand across the table, palm up. She hesitated again before letting out a long sigh and placing her fist over his outstretched hand. Gradually uncurling her fingers, she pressed her thong into his palm and held her hand over his until he closed his fingers around her intimate offering.

Cindy hadn't given much thought as to what she expected him to do with her gift, but, even if she had, she probably would never have considered what she saw next. He opened his hand on the table in front of him and carefully arranged the tiny bit of material across his palm with the thin straps hanging down in all directions. She came perilously close to reaching across the table and snatching her dignity back only to be frozen by his sudden glance. As her heart plummeted, she dropped her balled up fists into her lap and lowered her eyes. She was praying for the floor to open up and swallow her.

While her eyes were averted, he took a careful glance around the room to make certain that no one was looking in their direction. Then he raised her thong up to his nose and made an exaggerated sniffing sound that he knew wouldn't carry much beyond their table. But, it had exactly the effect on her that he was hoping for. She looked up at him and her face dissolved into such a piteous look that his heart almost broke. Tears welled up in the corners of her eyes and she seemed to almost shrink into her chair. Maria had warned him that being a Dom was not going to be easy. As he lowered his prize into his lap, he casually remarked, "You have the most delightful aroma, Pet."

Cindy was mortified. Never in her life had she known such humiliation. She felt so emotionally drained that she was certain she would never recover. Her entire body was shaking uncontrollably. There was nothing left of her inside. When he pocketed her thong, offered her his other hand and asked, "Shall we enjoy what dancing there is left?" she took his hand and numbly rose to her feet. In a trance, she let him lead her to the dance floor and into his arms. While her mind struggled to cope with her plight, her body lost itself in his strength.

As he felt her body slowly relax against his, Ron held her close and tried to let his movements show her how much he cared. He desperately wanted to sit her down and explain what he was trying to do, but Maria had explicitly forbidden anything of the sort. Training a sub, she had insisted, was like training a small child. They had to learn by experiencing, not hearing. The little girl had to be stripped away and the submissive woman inside allowed to flower and grow. And some of the stripping would be very difficult and painful. Somehow, Ron believed what she had told him; Maria wasn't much older than he, but she certainly had more experience in the lifestyle than he did. So, he held Cindy close to him and wished her healed.

She tried to lose herself in his arms and the dance. Gradually, she calmed her nerves and regained some control of her emotions. She could clearly tell now that his cock was erect between them and she was shocked at how her body responded. Her nipples were so tight that they ached as they rubbed against his chest. Her hips tried to grind her overheated sex against his leg and she could feel the dampness on the insides of her thighs. Her mind realized that she had just been publicly humiliated and yet her body reacted completely differently. Trying desperately to reassure herself, she found herself resorting to the mantra from earlier in the evening: no doubts, no reservations. She kept repeating it silently to herself as they danced and gradually she managed to surrender to him and to the music. In her confusion, she didn't notice the subtle signal that Ron had given the man seated at the bar.

"May I cut in?"

The man's deep voice behind her froze the blood in her veins. She involuntarily clutched Ron tighter to her and tried to convince herself that she hadn't heard anything. Praying desperately that Ron wouldn't give her up to a stranger in the pitiful condition she was in, she none the less resigned herself to her fate.

No doubts, no reservations. No doubts, no reservations. God help me.

"Why, certainly," she heard her partner answer and then he whispered in her ear, "make me proud, Pet."

He gently turned her into the arms of an older, casually dressed gentleman. Her tense body was eased into the other man's arms and he stepped off to lead her into the next slow song. Her mind hesitated, but her body did not. She looked up at him as he skillfully guided her slowly across the floor. She noticed pleasant blue eyes set in the face of a man about her mother's age. She also noted that his eyes were looking directly into hers rather than down the front of her indecent blouse. His hand was on her back at her waist. But she also noted that the decent separation that he maintained between their bodies allowed the cool air to slip up under her skirt and tickle the bare lips of her sex.

My God, what does he think of me? What do I do if he asks me a question? Am I allowed to speak to him?

As her exhausted mind raced, struggling with her doubts and fears, she hardly noticed that her body gradually moved closer to his until they touched. Her aching swollen nipples found comfort against his chest and her belly found its way against his. She lowered her head onto his shoulder, her confused mind trying to reassure her that everything would be all right while her body found its way back into the rhythm of the dance. He held her to him gently, his lead firm and sure with just enough pressure to guide her along. Her mind was just beginning to relax when she felt the bulge in his pants.

Oh, no! He's becoming aroused. What do I do now? Help me, Ron! This is all your fault!

The next time her partner turned them so she could see out into the room, she looked to their table to plead with Ron for rescue. She trusted him to be there for her, but, when she looked to their table, it was empty. Cindy began to panic, or at least her mind did. Her body seemingly had given up trying to keep up with her constant mood swings and moved sensually with his. She found herself back to silently repeating, "No doubts, no reservations." Ron had told her to make him proud. She had no idea what he meant, but she knew it did mean not acting like a screaming idiot.

At the moment of her desperation, Ron was in the men's room, struggling to calm his raging erection so that he could empty his bladder. While he sat on the commode and willed the built up pressure away, he called his sponsor to check in and let Jack know where he was and what they were doing. Jack had helped Ron tremendously since he had completed rehab and moved back home to help his older sisters care for his invalid mother. In the first few months, Ron had resented having to call Jack daily, but, as he had grown in sobriety, he came to realize that their daily sharing was beneficial for both of them.

Ron now looked forward to a quick chat with his sponsor and, for the first time in his life, he felt free to discuss almost anything with another person. Jack had turned out to be a great listener, but he was hopelessly vanilla and had great difficulty understanding the lifestyle. Ron had resigned himself to the fact that he couldn't expect his AA sponsor to understand D/s any more than he could expect his non-drinking family to understand why he hadn't been able to stop getting drunk. They wrapped up their call and Ron finished his business. Pulling up his pants, he noticed that there were damp spots on the inside of his underwear in more than one location.

The trio wound up its performance and took their bows to an enthusiastic round of applause. After they finished their clapping, Cindy's partner casually took her by the elbow and guided her back across the room. She glanced up to see her Master at the table and wondered momentarily if she had imagined his absence earlier. He arose as they approached and pulled out her chair for her. Before she could sit down, he asked, "Did you thank the gentleman?"

She responded by shaking her head and turned back to the man holding her arm. "Thank you very much", she said quietly, trying to put some feeling into her words.

"My pleasure entirely. You are a very charming dancer. I hope to see you back here at the club often."

He gave her a half bow, turned on his heel and headed back toward the bar. As she sat down, Cindy struggled to discern any hidden meaning behind his comments, but her overtaxed mind was hardly up to the task. There were too many conflicting emotions raging through her psyche to comprehend what he might have insinuated. He seemed like a nice man, but his remarks could be interpreted in a number of ways. His arousal while they were dancing, on the other hand, could not. Ron sat back down and studied the confused look on her face.

"Good girl, Pet. I'm proud of you."

Cindy felt a warm flush steal up her chest and spread across her face. Somehow, praise coming from him made everything seem right in her world; she even managed a wan smile. Gradually she came to realize just how physically and emotionally exhausted she was.

"You look tired, Pet. Are you ready to go home?"

Cindy weakly nodded her head and picked up her purse. He started to get up, but stopped when she held up her hand. Slowly rising from her seat, she headed for the ladies room to freshen up for the ride home. Sitting down on the toilet reminded her of her nakedness under her skirt as well as her musky scent. After she emptied out, she wiped her swollen, sensitive pussy and then mopped up the sticky juices that had spread down the insides of both her thighs.

What is wrong with me? I haven't been this wet in ages.

Ron rose from his chair to meet her when she returned and escorted her out of the lounge on his arm. She leaned her head to rest against his shoulder and her hip brushed against his with each step as they walked out of the clubhouse into the muggy summer air. He opened the door for her when they reached the Mini and, while she fastened herself in, he started the car and put the top and the windows down. Once he had himself situated, he reached down and pressed the button to recline her seat for her.

In the back of her mind she noticed the riot of stars overhead that wove their way in and out of the leaves of the trees as he drove along the drive. But Cindy's mind was more absorbed with her predicament. When she had been growing up, her family had never had the money to even look through the gates of a club as nice as this, let alone be a member of it. Now, her Master was not only a member, but he must attend fairly regularly from the way the staff greeted him by name. She so desperately wanted to be a part of his life here, but how could she ever show her face in the club again?

Who knows how many people saw what he did? And which ones? How will I ever know whether the person I'm talking to at the club knows that I took my panties off in the lounge or not? What must they think of me?

As the star patterns overhead twisted and turned with the movements of the car, Cindy was absorbed in trying to figure out how she could handle any future situation. Would she forever be looking for a knowing smirk or remark to let her know that the other person knew of her shame? Would they even allow her back? What would she do if the nasty Maitre d' were to inform Ron the next time they went for dinner that she was not welcome? A tear formed in the corner of her eye and ran down her cheek. She was still struggling with her options when they arrived back at her apartment complex. He again parked behind her cruiser and put up the top.

"Stay here for a second, Pet," he instructed as he pressed the trunk release and got out of the car. A moment later, he was opening her door and helping her out. She was puzzling over why he put up the car top and didn't notice the high powered flashlight in his hand. Halfway up the stairs to the upper floor, she figured out that maybe the reason he put up the top was because he wasn't planning to just show her to her door and say goodbye. She let a tired smile creep across her face. If that was the case, she would certainly welcome him in.

She had her keys in her hand by the time she got to her door and didn't hesitate. Unlocking the door, she pushed it open without even looking behind her. If he didn't follow her inside, it wasn't because she didn't give him enough hints. Sure enough, he followed her in. Her heart skipped a beat when his hand on her back gently guided her through the living room directly into her boudoir. He was close behind her all the way. So close. She lost his touch as she stepped across the room dimly lit by the glow of the parking lot lights filtering through the curtains, but she could sense his presence. She put her purse down on her bedside table and turned on the lamp to its lowest setting. Then she turned slowly to fall into his arms. But, he wasn't there.

Instead, she was suddenly blinded by a bright beam of light shining directly at her from across the room. His flashlight, she realized. Stunned, she stood there until she heard him say, "Your audience is waiting for the show, Pet. There are a hundred guys out here drooling and beating the tables. Cindy, Cindy, Cindy they cry! Show us what makes you so special!" She froze in the spotlight.

So he wants a show, eh? I've never done a strip tease before, but if that's what will make him happy, I'll do the best that I can.

Cindy turned slowly sideways and reached for the button of her blouse at her breasts. Her hips started to sway to an unheard beat. Abruptly she stopped, turned towards him and walked directly into the light that was blinding her. When she guessed that she was within a few feet of him, she stopped and held out her hand. She guessed that he was seated in her rocker and her suspicions were confirmed when she heard it creak as he shifted his weight and reached into his pocket.

"What's the matter, Pet? Can't take it off if you don't have it on?"

She saw his hand reach out from behind the brightness holding her tiny red thong. Taking it, she stepped sideways out of the light and turned away from him to demurely slip it up her legs. As the clammy cool scrap of fabric nestled against her hot sex, she shivered briefly, and then reassured herself that she wouldn't be wearing it for long. Dropping her bracelet on the dresser, Cindy returned to her place in the spotlight beside her bed. She started over, reaching to unbutton her blouse. Diana began her sultry rendition of "Popsicle Toes" in Cindy's head and her hips moved with the beat. One hand held her blouse closed at her chest while the other deliberately unbuttoned each remaining button. The front of the blouse was coaxed out of the waist of her skirt one side at a time as she turned back and forth.

"Why do you always load your Pentax when I'm in the nude..."

Diana's voice weaved its way through Cindy's exhausted mind as she briefly spread open one side of the blouse only to snap it closed again and then the other side. Finally, she was getting to show off her little red undies the way she had imagined. Turning her back to the audience, she coyly slipped her blouse off one shoulder and let it slide slowly down her arm. Then the other shoulder was bared and finally the garment was snatched from her skirt and flung toward the spotlight as she turned back to her fans, feet spread wide. Next, she unfastened the waist of her skirt and toyed with the zipper, running it up and down a few times as her body turned and swayed. She realized that her thong was no longer cool against her sex. Her hot juices had soaked it anew.

The skirt finally fell to the floor only to be kicked over the footlights into the hordes of her admirers. She stood proudly erect, dressed only in her little red nothings and shoes. They were next, her body turning sideways to the crowd so she could bend over at the waist, run her hands slowly down a leg, slip off a sandal and then turn to the other side, bend over again and remove the other. Now her hands began to caress her body in earnest, working their way from her damp inner thighs up across her belly and over her breasts, never stopping. Though she had never even seen a live strip tease, some inner sense guided her though the sensual motions. Eyes closed, lost in the rhythm in her head, she gave her body free rein to express its desire.

Down to her last scraps of clothing, she spun around and stopped with her back to the light. Leaning over backward, she threw her head back to peek over her shoulder to where she could feel his eyes upon her. Smiling seductively, she slowly reached behind her and unfastened the catches of her bra. Straightening up, she swung her arms back around her as she turned to face the audience, crossing her arms before her and cupping a breast in either hand. Gently kneading the firm globes, she let first one bra strap slip down an arm and then the other. Her hips ground back and forth suggestively as her hands made tender love to her chest. Ever so slowly, she spread her arms apart, one hand with the strip of red fabric dangling from its fingers only to drop to the floor once the arms were fully extended. She was completely exposed to the throng. Painfully hard pink nipples stood out clearly against the darker areolas and her hips kept grinding to the beat that was throbbing in her head.

As far as the dancer on the stage was concerned, it mattered not whether there were a hundred in the audience or a thousand, she was dancing for only one man. She eased one strap down over a hip only to slide it back so her other hand could repeat the move as her hips swiveled to and fro. Her hands ran over her belly and her loins as the tempo of the beat in her head became faster and faster. As she gave everything that she was to the dance, the motion of her hips became almost jerky as they lost themselves to her need.

With one final shudder, she brought them to a stop, pivoted around, bent over at the waist and peeled her thong over her quivering hips and down her legs. She stepped out of the final barrier to her sex and turned slowly back to her audience, proudly erect, arms out to her side, the tiny red thong dangling from a single finger. Basking in the bright light, she let the finger droop gradually until the damp bit of red cloth fluttered to the floor. At the same time, she slowly sank to a kneeling pose with her knees spread, her head down and her hands at her side. Her body was covered with a glistening film and the slit between her engorged pussy lips was leaking a creamy whitish fluid. She waited patiently for him, breathing heavily. The spotlight blinked off.

"Bravo! Bravo! Fantastic!" her audience exclaimed, "That was the most erotic dance that I've ever seen, Pet. You were magnificent!" She felt his hands on her elbows, helping her to her feet. She rose slowly, keeping her eyes down until she was upright. Then she closed her eyes and turned her lips up for him to kiss.

"Now, go brush your teeth and get your pajamas on and I'll tuck you into bed, Pet."

Her eyes flew open but were not capable of understanding what she was seeing. He turned her gently and gave her a nudge toward the bathroom door. Once in motion, her body fell into the familiar routine of her nightly bedtime preparations. It was some time later, while she was brushing her teeth, that the emotional dam burst and the tears flowed down her cheeks to drip into the sink. She stood over the sink, totally drained and absolutely lost.

Finally, she gathered what was left of herself together and finished brushing her teeth. She took her plain cotton pajamas from the hook on the back of the bathroom door and slipped into them. She barely noticed him as she stumbled out of the bathroom and sank to her knees by the side of her bed. Pressing her hands together and bowing her head, she said her prayers, even including him as she had for the last few weeks. Finally, she climbed wearily into bed and started to slide under the covers.

"There's one more thing I want you to do for me, Pet" he said, leaning over her and looking deeply into her dull eyes. His lips were close to hers. So close. After a long pause, he continued, "I want you to show me how you make love to yourself when you're all alone."

No! Not that! You can't! I won't!

Her mind finally rebelled, refusing to give him her most personal, most private, most intimate secrets. She was past caring now, pushed well beyond her limit. She absolutely couldn't do that! Never had she revealed her forbidden acts to anyone! But, just as her mind struggled with how to refuse him, her fingers reached an aching nipple and gently caressed it. The delightful sensations that radiated from that single touch flashed through her entire nervous system and while her mind struggled to regain control, the battle was already lost. He saw her surrender in her eyes and smiled at her kindly. She fought back desperately but it was no use. When her other hand stole down into the waistband of her pajamas and across her tummy to cup her mons, all hope of control was gone. Her hips rose off the mattress to meet her hand.

"I need to know what your body wants, Pet. That way I can be a better lover when the time comes."

He gently tugged her pajama bottoms down until they were bunched around her ankles and her knees fell wide apart, opening her most private parts to his view. As her hand caressed the stubble covered lips of her pussy, he carefully unbuttoned her pajama top and slid the fabric off her swollen breasts. The hand that had first caressed her nipple was lightly pinching and twisting it now as her breathing became quicker and shallower. Her hips remembered the rhythm of the earlier dance and began to grind her sex into her hand.

When she saw him turn on the spotlight and shine it directly onto her dripping cunt, her mind desperately tried to be outraged, but it was no use. She was too far gone. Squeezing her eyes tightly shut to block out any sight that would distract from her body's desperate search for relief, her head cocked back into the pillow. Her back arched upward as her body writhed and twisted on the bed. The hand that had been pinching and twisting her nipples abandoned them to snake down behind her back and find the soft wet center of her desire. First one finger and then a second eased their way into the velvety soft tunnel that led to her center. The fingers began a sensual in and out pumping that drove her toward her goal.

Her other hand abandoned her puffy lips and eased its thumb and middle finger into the top of her damp slit to find the fleshy hood that covered her stiff clit. Her pleasure nub was still hidden by its protecting folds, but when the two digits gently pinched its covering and rubbed it up and down to the tempo of the fingers assaulting her hole, it began to swell to full length and peek out. Cindy's face and chest were flushed, her breathing coming in gasps and her torso began to twitch uncontrollably. The index finger of the hand stroking her aching clit dipped into her juicy slit for moisture before teasing the tip of her engorged nub. That was certain to bring her the blessed relief that she so desperately craved. She could feel the tension building within her loins and her body knew that it was close. So close.

"That's enough for tonight, Pet. You can stop now."

His words penetrated her exhausted mind and she dimly understood that she had to obey. Her brain grudgingly accepted her fate and willed herself to stop, but it took another second or two for the message to reach her hands. Her body, however, defied her will and continued its jerky motions, her hips thrusting lewdly upward against her frozen hands.

Aaarrrrgghghghgghhh!

Finally, her hands pulled shakily away from her overheated sex and dropped stiffly to her sides, grabbing the sheets below her and wadding them into her clenched fists. Her eyes opened slightly, her deep brown eyes hidden behind slits, as she watched him ease her pajama bottoms back up over her still twitching hips. He was watching her closely, his eyes unreadable, and his face impassive.

"You do not have permission to cum tonight, Pet."

He carefully buttoned up her pajama top and pulled the sheet and covers up to her neck. Her mind was in a complete fog, her comprehension level non-existent. Her eyes begged and pleaded for an answer. He bent down and kissed her lips; a gentle good night kiss that was full of meaning that she couldn't understand.

Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?

"Because I can, Pet."

He turned off the light on her bedside table and used the flashlight to guide his way out of her darkened apartment, leaving her to cry herself to sleep.

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