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"The story goes on - but still smoothly. I leave an image at the bottom to hotten your imagination" - Domina
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"Domina, please, I... I..." - said my little toy, not only with his lips, but also with his kind eyes of deep blue.
He had just removed the hard beans from his knees after his first lesson.
I could sense in his voice the fear of disappointing me or of breaking one of my rules (which he did not know yet - we had only just met).
However, I was radiant, happy. Happy for feeling, once more, the power I can have over one's mind and body - over a dog. I could, then, make concessions.
"Say it, I know you want to ask me something."
"I don't want to never see you again. Can... I..." - his anxiety made his sentence a little confusing, but I could feel where it was headed. I knew what he wanted.
"My internet contact?"
"If you wish... I would be so glad." - he said, with the words floating off his mouth in relief.
The camera was still on on his side. From the floor, he looked straight at it.
Well, it is hard explaining how I felt - with such a desire to talk to him too. I could see his face and thought of how he was exposing himself to me, in our very first interaction...
"Of course not! But I will have yours. What is it?"
"padavonacook@(...). Will you call me again? Please..."
Yes, I would call him again. But I would not tell him that now, obviously. Anticipation represents a great part of desire, that is what I always say.
"Do you work, little dog?"
"Yes, Domina."
"In what field?"
"I'm kind of a cook."
"What's your work schedule?"
"I always leave the house ate 5pm and, sometimes, I have to go to the market early in the morning."
It was decided. I would talk to him again in a few days - which would make him anxious and boiling with anticipation for our next conversation.
However, I did not tell him right away.
I started a new conversation, about other subjects and topics and was surprised. That little dog was a great reader! The proper use of grammar came back to my mind. He loved Brazilian authors and had fun when talking about Jorge Amado[1].
According to him, he had discovered in these great author's words that sexuality has no boundaries and no ego. He felt free reading Amado's pages because it was as if they gave him permission to be who he was, with his own fetishes and desires.
I also learnt he wasn't exactly experienced in the world of BDSM. He had only tried some sort of virtual domination. He had, as well, paid a prostitute to his great disappointment: the wannabe mistress wasn't convincing enough - and he felt the "session" did not go as it could have or should have gone.
And even more, he appreciated not only submission, but some level of pain as well. That part, I must admit, made my insides turn in an inexplicable way. Someone to teach, limits to try. It sounded deviously delicious.
I recommended him the reading of "Justine", since he did not know my Marquis in a way I deemed appropriate.
Already tired of all the talking and with my next students' arrival upon me, I told him:
"I have your contact. I will not add you right now to my profile. Every day at 3pm you must login and wait on your knees. If by 3:10pm I am not logged on, you can do whatever you like. Remember to always shave minutes before 3pm. I hate hairy dogs. Present yourself always in the nude. In a few days, I will not tell you how many, in the hour previously mentioned, I will add you to my chat app and we will talk again. That's a promise."
I saw he was taken by surprise by my tone. It was funny realizing how he positioned both his hands on the computer desk, twitching his fingers, the rigidity of his shoulder lines increasing with each word I mouthed.
"Did you understand, Dog?"
"Yes, Domina."
I hung up as soon as I heard the last word. I could only savor in my memories his last doubtful look.
I enjoyed the memory of that look for the first time the next day. At 3pm. I imagined how he would be, on his knees, waiting for my command.
But, he would wait longer.
I would not log on the second day either. I had piano students at the time, therefore, since the very beginning, I knew it would take longer than that before I called him again. But, as I said, the anticipation, the desire, those are very important for the pleasure.
On the third day - the day I had already decided to talk to him - to my own surprise, I, myself, were anticipating every minute before I could add him to my list. I was really impressed with the way he could mess with my desire, by being so submissive.
There was not any doubt in my mind that he would be there, exactly how I had ordered, kneeling, in front of his computer, naked and perfectly shaven.
At 3:05pm I logged on and added his e-mail address to my list. As soon as his name showed on my screen, I simply sent him this message:
"Turn on your video. Remember I want to see your face."
And there he was, on his knees, looking at the camera, with his little freckles slightly highlighted by his recently shaved chin, just as ordered.
His deep blue eyes offering a whole world to be explored. I could feel my panties wet with desire.
"Domina!"
"Silence! I did not permit you to speak."
"..." - he lowered his head, mute, surrendering to my voice.
"Show me your face."
And so he did, without making a sound. His skin was smooth, completely hairless, which pleases me.
"Show me your hands."
They were clean, nails clipped. I hate it when people do not take care of their own bodies - after all, it is the center of my pleasure, it must be always very neat.
"Now your feet."
Toe nails were also clipped. Even on his feet there were tiny freckles. Funny how they concentrate in specific areas: shoulders, feet and check bones. On the rest of his body they were very discreet and clear. Nothing that would get in the way of his aesthetics.
"Turn around, bend over and expose yourself. You already know how to do it."
This time he did it without hesitation, opening his butt cheeks until I could see his pink ring. I smiled internally and let him stay in that position slightly longer than necessary for the inspection. It would not hurt to reinforce a lesson well learnt.
"Well, you are clean. Keep it that way." I finally said, although I thought he should do something about all the hair scattered around his body. I have never enjoyed hairy dogs.
"Did you obey me through the past days? Were you here on your knees? Speak candidly." - I already knew the answer, but the confirmation of obedience always turned me on.
"Yes, Mistress. I almost died in anticipation. I even thought you wouldn't come. That you didn't want me. That I wasn't good enough..."
Always submissive. My senses have never failed me this far.
"I made you a promise, remember? I never break a promise." Again, the same desire to caress his chestnut hair.
"How do you shave yourself?"
"Electric shaver, Mistress."
"If you really want to please me, let us start from the beginning. When I say, Dog, you will bark and put out your tongue, leaving your hands up like paws, suspended, in front of your body."
"Mistress?" he sounded surprised.
"Is there a problem with my order, Dog?"
"No, Mistress. I must obey my Mistress without hesitation."
"Then, dog, do as you are told. Bark!"
"Woof!" he said, timidly.
"Do you have a problem with your voice, little dog? Louder!"
"WOOF-WOOF." And he stick his tongue out.
"Louder!"
"WOOF-WOOF-WOOF!" And he stick his tongue out, positioned his hands in front of his body and started to pant like a puppy.
I laughed out loud. I could not contain my laughter. What a pathetic figure. Tall, broad shouldered and as submissive as my little mutt.
His cheeks turned red.
"Now walk around on all fours."
The more he walked, tongue out, the more I laughed seeing such degrading image.
"I want to see your tail, dog. Wave your tail for your Mistress."
He, then, stopped, butt cheeks facing the camera, in the middle of the room and started waving his hips, shaking an imaginary tail.
If only he knew what I had planned regarding the "imaginary" aspect of it all...
Without holding my laughter back, I told him to stand on his knees again, in front of the camera.
His eyes were shining bright. His face was read with shame and humiliation.
I stopped laughing.
"Are you happy to please your Mistress?"
"Yes, Mistress. Like I've never been."
"Let us, then, get you more to my taste. Bring your shaver and some clothespins. Turn the shaver on and position yourself in a way I can see what you are doing. You have 45 seconds."
In 30 seconds my little dog was back, shaver in hand, put the clothespins over the table and kneeled.
He had chest hair, similar to a small cloud over his sternum. Not many, but, you already know how I feel about hairy dogs.
"You will remove your chest hair."
He looked at me and his eyes, for the first time today, were glassy, afraid. After all, we must remember we live in a Latin country where men do not shave their bodies - at least, not most of them.
"Any doubts?"
"Mistress?... I..."
"Well, we have reached an impasse. I hate hairy dogs. Your chest hair will not be the only ones to be removed, just so you know. It is your decision. We can stop this at any time. However, be aware that the disobedience to such a simple order will entail the end of our conversation. I hate being disobeyed. There will come a day when you will be allowed to choose and, under my consent, you will be able to say no to an order of mine. But, today is not that day and that is not the order you can say no to. This one must be obeyed in full by my dog. Or you can give this up."
In response, I heard the humming sound of the electric shaver while he opened way among his sternum in a most decisive manner. He bit his lips due to slight pain from the hair being removed.
I waited patiently while he got rid of this manly symbol cultivated by most since adolescence. With his hair fell the memories of old girlfriends or partners who would caress that area in a search for safety. The memories of the joy felt when realizing he was growing up, becoming a man, perhaps like his father, fell away. I could almost hear the remains of his memories reaching the ground and becoming dust.
"Ready, Mistress." His voice was trembling. He had, at that moment, realized we were just starting.
And he had chosen to hold my hand and dive through the darkness of my desire. I was already making plans for him.
But not before the punishment.
"What is my mantra again?"
"I must obey my Mistress without hesitation."
"Did you fulfill it today, Dog?"
He swallows dryly "No, Mistress."
However, a Mistress knows her subs - which means his punishment was already arranged, despite of his knowledge.
"Get the clothespins. Show them to me."
The pins were steel, an unusual type. They seemed to inforce a lot of pressure through their springs. I imagine not even a storm would be able to rip the clothes off his clothes lines, if they were gripped by these pins.
They were perfect.
"Put one pin over each nipple. You will hold them for a whole minute. If the pain is more then you can bare, say Red."
He looked at the clothespins. Looked at me. The fear in his eyes was perceptible. And then, he took them, gripping as ordered.
His skin, white at first, began to turn red in the recently shaved chest area. He bit hard on his lips - I could see his teeth's marks.
"Open your eyes, I want to see your pain."
And so he did.
He remained quiet. And held on through the whole minute.
"Take them off."
He pulled them off and I could hear the metal clicking together. He was out of breath and a little bit of saliva was running through the corner of his mouth.
"That was your second lesson. I will reach out for you again, in no later than three days. Use this time to schedule a waxing session for your private areas and thighs. You can keep your hair from the knees down and from de elbows to your hands. I am forwarding to your e-mail address a list of small objects you must buy. Was I clear?"
"Yes, Mistress. Mistress commands and Her dog obeys."
His words were like a little stab that started on my clit and ran through my whole vagina.
Yes, there were details to be mended in my dog's behavior.
But, who says I cannot have fun by doing so?
[1] Jorge Amado (1912-2001): He was a famous Brazilian writer having a sit at the Brazilian Literature Academy. In his books he talks about Brazilian people, how they interact with one another, how their lives are, their multiplicity of thoughts, behavior - focusing on one of Brazil's most famous touristic destination: the state of Bahia. Some examples of his books are "Captain of the Sands (1934); "Ms. Flor and her two husbands" (1966), and "Gabriela, Clove and cinnamon" (1958), the latter being described by Jean-Paul Sartre as "the best example of a folk novel". His work has been translated into more than 49 languages.