Prologue

Thursday - Day -1

You could call me a nice guy. I haven't had too many girl friends, but upon reflection I realized that they were all what I would consider "high maintenance." Not that I was this absolute doormat, treated like shit by my girlfriends, not at all. The girls that I had gone out with were nice enough to me and treated me reasonable well. They were nice looking, though certainly not model material. We had nice times. But it was clear to me that in each of my relationships, the woman was the focus.

When they wanted to go someplace, we did. I took them around, got them nice things, and did things for them. With sex, we did what they wanted when they wanted it. If they didn't want anything, I had to be content with satisfying myself or with nothing. Again, they were not cruel, and if anything, it was my fault. I was a pushover; I truly cared about them, and put up with pretty much anything.

My current girlfriend is Becky. We have been together a couple of years. She's about 5' 5," brown hair and eyes, a nice chest, a few pounds overweight, but not outrageous. By the way, I'm just over 6 feet, brown hair and eyes as well. I'm no Greek god, but I'm in reasonably good shape and people have told me that I look pretty good.

Our relationship was going like all of them had. She was in a bad mood frequently, angry at many things around her, and as a result, she was often cranky and short tempered around me, even though she admitted I was not to blame for the way that she felt. While I wouldn't have minded sex on a daily basis, she was frequently not interested, either because she was in a bad mood, or she hadn't showered that evening and doesn't feel clean enough, or she was too tired, or she was just not interested. Even though her body is pretty nice, she has always felt that she was getting too fat, and as a result, she wouldn't wear revealing clothes. On the other hand, she never felt like working out either.

So that is what I thought of my life and relationship. I never realized this myself, but one day I came to the realization that I was tired of being the nice guy. I had these relationships where I catered to high maintenance woman, but I had never been catered too. I had always put everyone else first, but I had never been put first. And when I look around at the hot women that were low maintenance (I was definitely NOT interested in a really hot, high maintenance woman) I realized that the people that they were in relationships with were assholes. These women were with people who treated them badly, and while they bitched and moaned about it, they seemed to get off on it.

It got me wondering. While I didn't think I could treat a woman with the complete disdain of the assholes around me, I thought it was time to stop being so nice and to find someone who was going to take care of my needs, do what I wanted, and be at my beck and call. I wasn't sure if I could find someone like that, but I felt I owed myself a chance to try.

Of course, that meant that I had to dump Becky. Being the nice guy that I was, I had never dumped anyone before; it was always me being dumped. While I have some experience being dumped, it would be a test of my new selfishness to dump Becky.

I had just recently gotten home on a Thursday evening, and Becky was moaning about something again. I felt bad for her, and how the things in her life annoyed her, but it helped me realize that I did not want to be part of it, so I said, "Becky, we have to talk."

"What do we have to talk about?" she asked.

"I don't want to live with you anymore." I answered. I could not believe that I just came out and said it, but there it was.

She looked stunned. "What do you mean? What's wrong? I thought things were going so well!"

"Becky," I said, "when we met, and while we have been living together, I was a particular person. You liked me, and you thought everything was good. The problem is that I didn't like me. I don't like who I am, and I don't want to be who I was. I really do like you; I really love you. But now I want to be someone else, and while you are great, I need to be with a different kind of person."

Becky had started crying. I could feel my compassion welling up, and I almost felt like comforting her and saying, "Sorry, it's my fault, we can go back to the way we were." But I didn't do that. I needed to change.

"I don't understand. What kind of person do you need? How can I do things differently? What can I do to keep you?" she asked.

"Becky, I would love to stay with you, but I really feel that what you are and what I am looking for are two completely different things. I don't think you'd want to be the person that I need," I told her.

"But I would do anything for you," she responded.

"No, you wouldn't," I said. "You'd say you would do anything, but when push came to shove, you wouldn't."

"How can you say that?" she asked. "Why won't you give me a chance? What do you want?"

"Becky," I explained, "what I want is someone who will listen to me. I want someone who will do what I want. If I want to go out, they will. If I want them to dress sexy, they will. If I wake up horny in the middle of the night and want a blowjob, they won't complain they are too tired. If I walk in and get turned on by them, they won't complain that they haven't washed when I want to eat them out. I want someone who will focus on me, my wants, my needs. I want someone who will do everything I want, simply because I want it. And finally, I want someone who is happy to be with me and happy to be themselves.

"I don't think that you are those things. Sure, you'll go out with me, if you are up to it. And you'll dress nice, if you don't think its too revealing. And you'll happily give me a blowjob and swallow as much come as I can produce, if you are in the mood. But how many times have you said no to me? How many times have I not even asked because I knew you would say no? And are you really happy with yourself, because from the amount of time that you spend complaining about things, it sure doesn't seem that way.

"I'm sorry Becky, but I need something different in my life now. I truly love you, and I think you are a great person, but the person you are is not the right person for me, right now. I'm going to stay at a friend's house for a couple of days till I can sort out a place to live. I'm sorry, Becky." With that, I left here there, crying on the couch. It made me feel like an asshole, and it was tremendously hard not to go back to her, but in some respects I felt good that I was able to do this.

I went to my buddy Jack's house, and crashed there for the night. I was at work the next day when my cell phone rang. I could see if was Becky, and I almost didn't answer, but I thought that shying away from a confrontation would be falling into my old patterns, so I answered the phone.

"Hi Becky," I said.

"Hi," she said. She sounded fairly calm.

"Listen," she continued, "I think I understand what you are doing, but I need to talk to you a little more. Will you have dinner with me one last time? I have some things I need to tell you. I promise I won't make a scene."

I wasn't sure it was a great idea, but she seemed in control of herself, and we had been together for two years before I just sprung this on her, so I felt I owed it to her. Worse came to worse, I could just walk out.

"OK," I said, "meet me at Alfredo's at 9:00." I knew she didn't like Alfredo's very much, and even though it was one of my favorites we never went, but in my new spirit of selfishness, I didn't care.

"OK," she said, "see you there." I was a little surprised that she didn't even try to get me to change the location.

At 9:00 I walked into Alfredo's. It's a fairly nice establishment, so I had dressed up a little. I saw her at the bar, and I got another surprise. She was in a fairly short black dress that was pretty low cut on top, no stockings and sandals. I don't remember her having that dress, and she did not normally dress so revealing. "Great," I thought to myself, "she's trying to tempt me to get back together with her."

"Hi," she said quietly, kissing my cheek as I approached her. "Thank you very much for agreeing to meet with me. Would you like to go in?"

"Sure," I said.

When we approached the maitre d', she asked for a booth. The booths were in the back, and fairly private. After we were seated and our drink orders were taken, we looked over the menu. When the waiter came for our food orders, I ordered an asparagus soup followed by a rib-eye steak. When he asked Becky for her order, she said, "The gentleman can order for me." I looked up at her in surprise, not sure what she was up to. I knew steak was not Becky's favorite, but I told the waiter to bring her the same thing I had ordered.

After the waiter left, I asked "OK, Becky, what's the deal? Why did you want to meet me?" She looked at the table for a long moment, seemingly gathering up the courage to tell me what she had to say.

"It's like this. I thought about what you said. I heard what you were looking for, and the person that you do not what to be. I thought all last night about our relationship and about me and about you. And I realized that you were right about how things were. And I can see why you think that I am not the person that you want to be with, given the person you want to be." She took a sip of water and I waited for her to continue.

She looked up at me, intently. "But I can be that person, I know I can. Please give me a chance. I know I can make you happy."

I sighed. I was afraid of something like this. She was going to try and have me take her back, maybe be more accommodating for a little bit, then things would go back to the way they were.

"Becky," I started, "it's not who you are. It's not who you want to be. You can't change into what you don't want to be."

She looked up at me, her eyes a little moist, but very determined. "How do you know? You weren't who you wanted to be. Maybe I wasn't who I wanted to be. You said that I was not happy with myself, and you were right, I'm not. Maybe I can be happier with who you want me to be. Please let me try. I'll make you a deal - stay with me for one month. If after that month things don't work out, I'll leave and won't bother you again. Please," she pleaded.

I sighed once again. Just then our soups came. I started eating mine, and I saw she was just playing with hers. That exasperated me. "You had me order for you, eat what I got you," I told her.

"Yes, sir," she said, and started eating.

While I was eating my soup I looked at her. It was true that I loved her. And the raw material I wanted was certainly there. But I just wasn't convinced she could do it. Then I thought, let me test her a little. Worst comes to worst, I leave her at the end of the night.

Before the waiter came to clear off our soup plates I asked Becky "Where did you get the dress?"

She responded, "I wanted to look good for you, so I went out and bought it."

"And what are you wearing under the dress?" I asked.

"A black bra and black panties," she replied.

"OK," I said, "take off the panties and put them on the table."

She looked up at me in surprise. She hesitated a moment, then reached over for her purse, presumably to go to the ladies room. "No," I said, "right here."

With resolve, she put her purse down and reached under her skirt and shimmied out of her panties. She wadded them up in a little ball and reached to hand them to me, but I said "Put them on the table near your soup bowl."

She did, and I finished up my soup and sat back, looking at her without saying anything. She looked at me, almost defiantly, as if saying, "See, I can do what you want." When the busboy came by to collect our soup bowls, he paused when he saw the panties. I said, "Clear those away as well. We don't need them anymore." He put them on his tray and walked back to the kitchen.

"You realize he's probably going to keep them, show him to his friends in the back, don't you?" hissed Becky, her face all red.

"I assume so," I replied. "Will they be wet? Will they smell good?" I asked. She dropped her eyes to the table and nodded her head jerkily.

The waiter came and put our steaks in front of us. He asked if we needed anything else, spending a little bit too long looking at Becky's lap. "No, thank you, we're fine," I said, digging into my steak. Becky did the same.

I was thinking hard. I was surprised that Becky had done what I asked, but I was still concerned that this was a one night, desperate, get-the-boyfriend back move, and she would revert back to the old Becky the next day. But she had offered me a thirty-day trial period, and I thought I don't have anyplace else to live, and really, what do I have to lose? Becky was damn good in bed when she let go, and I suspected that at least tonight she'd be letting go, so I decided to go for it.

"So, Becky, do you really think you could change to please me as I want to be pleased?"

"Oh, yes!" she responded excitedly.

"Oh, yes sir!" I corrected. "One of the things that I want is more respect."

"Yes, sir!" she responded.

I leaned back and looked at her. This could be interesting. "If we do this, it is on my terms, right?" I asked her.

"Yes, sir," she replied. "OK, I'll think about giving this some time. We may not last the month, but we'll see. Let see if you can abide by some ground rules. I want you to tell me if you understand them.

"First and foremost, I want you to do what I tell you. If you refuse me, no matter what the circumstances, the trial period is over and I will leave. Do you understand that?"

"Yes, sir," Becky replied.

"Then explain it to me," I said.

"I will never refuse you anything, sir," Becky said, looking at me intently. I really liked the way she rephrased this rule.

"Second, you have been complaining that you could not dress to please me because you were not happy with your body. You will dress to please me, and you will improve your body. Tomorrow I want you to sign up for a gym, and you will go every day. You will work hard, because if you do not, you will be punished. Tomorrow we will also go on a little shopping trip to get you nicer clothing. Do you understand this?"

"Yes, sir," she said. "I will dress to please you, and I will work out and get my body in better shape, or you will punish me. I understand and accept that, sir."

By this point, the new, more submissive Becky sitting across from me had me very turned on, and my cock was as hard as I could ever remember it being. "Becky, one thing you will not be doing very often is wearing underwear. Go to the ladies room and take off your bra. Do it in the open, not in a stall, and when you come out, hold the bra in your hand until you get back here, and then hand it to me."

Without even the slightest hesitation, Becky said, "Yes, sir," then got up and went to the ladies room. I really enjoyed watching her ass as she went, and looking around I could see that I was not the only one.

A few minutes later, Becky came out of the ladies room, followed by another woman; both of them looked slightly flushed. Becky came back to me, and you could clearly see that she was holding her bra. In addition, you could see her breasts jiggling nicely under her dress, and her nipples were clearly visible.

As she approached me, she reached out and handed me her bra, and said in a normal voice, "Here is my bra, sir." A few people at nearby tables looked up at that, but Becky just took her seat.

"What happened in there?" I asked.

"I went in, and there was another lady there, sir. But you had told me to take my bra off in the open area, so I just opened my dress there and pulled it down. The lady in there looked at me in surprise when I did that, and was even more shocked when I took my bra off. I couldn't help it sir, I asked her to help me close my dress. She asked me why I was doing it, sir, and I said that my master told me to. I hope I didn't overstep my bounds, sir."

Now I was the one to be shocked. I certainly hadn't used the 'master' word, at least not yet. She seemed to be getting into this much more than I expected. She still looked flushed. "Is all of this turning you on?" I asked her.

"Oh, sir," she said, looking into my eyes, "I am so wet that the back of my dress is going to be soaked!"

"Well," I said, "we certainly wouldn't want that. Flip your dress up so that your bare ass is on the seat."

She did so without complaint, and when I looked over I could see that her dress was up high enough in the front so that you could almost see her pussy, yet she did not seem to mind at all.

My mind was in turmoil. This night was not going at all as I expected. Was this the same Becky that I spent the last two years with? Maybe not, but then again, I didn't want to be the same person I had been for the last two years.

"I think we are up to my third point: punishment. If you don't behave as I expect, or if you do something wrong, it is my right to punish you, do you understand and agree?" I asked.

"Yes, sir. I understand that you will punish me as you see fit," she responded. Once again, her review of my terms seemed to be even more than I had said.

"OK," I said, "that is all for now. I will give you more rules as they come to me. I will take your trial deal, and see how it works."

"Oh, thank you, sir, you will not be sorry," Becky squealed, reaching over to give me a massive kiss.

"Understand, Becky," I continued after she sat back down, "that I will be pushing you. I will be enjoying myself with you. I will be using you for my pleasure. I will punish you, both when you deserve it and when I just feel like it. And one more thing, Becky: I will fuck you in your ass. Are you sure that you want to continue this?"

One thing that I had never been able to convince Becky, or any of my girlfriends to allow, was an ass-fuck. Becky always felt that her ass was a dirty place, an exit, not an entrance. Becky looked a little nervous for a second, and then whispered "My ass will be ready when you want it, sir."

My dick got even bigger, if that was possible. "Put your bra in your purse," I said, as I called the waiter over for the check. Outside, I got a cab for us and told it to go uptown to our apartment.

"Becky," I said, "seeing this new side of you has gotten me really horny. I want you to give me a blow job, and I want you to be nude when you do it."

Without a moments hesitation, and seemingly oblivious of the cab driver, she pulled the dress over her head and attacked my crotch. She ripped the zipper down and fished out my cock, no easy task considering how hard I was. She was not gentle or slow.

It appears the dinner we had just completed did nothing to quell her hunger, because she gobbled me down. The cab driver moved his mirror around so that he could see what she was doing, as Becky moved her head rapidly up and down my cock. Given my state of excitement, I knew I couldn't last long, but that was OK with me. She continued trying to shove my cock deep into her throat. Finally, I couldn't take it anymore.

Usually, I let her know before I came so she could decide to swallow or finish by jerking me off, but not this time. This time, I grabbed her head and held it on my cock as I squirted in her mouth without any warning.

I held her head on my cock till I was done then I let her go. She stayed by my cock, licking all around to make sure she got every drop. Then she sat back up and leaned back in the seat, still naked, and said, "I hope that pleased you sir. Is there anything else I can do for you?"

Once again, she had shocked me. Becky was no prude, but showing her body off for the cab driver is beyond what I thought she would do. I reached over between her legs and she spread them for me. She was sopping wet, just as she had told me in the restaurant. I played between her lips for a few minutes, swiping her clit every now and again. Then I leaned back and told her to turn to the side, leaning on the door. She did what I asked, and then I told her to make herself come.