part 2 - 6

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He relaxed into me. Surrounded by constant noise and motion as people rushed in and out of the station, it was almost like we were on our own in a bubble.

"It makes me nervous," Malcolm confessed.

"What does?"

"Hurting you."

"I'm tough, you know. I can take far more than you've dished out so far."

"We'll have to see about that," he chuckled, "but I'm not talking about whips in the bedroom. I mean that... well... if I push you too far and seriously emotionally hurt you, it would probably ruin me."

"You won't." I said, as firmly as I could, locking eyes with him for emphasis. "Because I won't let you. That's what our second law is for, to make sure I let you know long before that happens. Malcolm, it's like Sam said, even if she was rude about it. Submissives have responsibility too. I'm not saying you and Chloe had bad communication, obviously I don't know, but at some point, it's on her to tell you if something was wrong for her."

"Thanks," he murmured into my ear.

"I feel safe with you, but if I ever didn't, I promise you that I'll tell you. I want you to be everything you want with me. It's like one of those FetLife essays you sent me said. Part of my role in that is shouldering that responsibility for myself, so that you feel can safe not to second guess yourself and what you want."

"That's part of what made me decide to come back into it. You've been tossing my BS back at me for years. I know you have no problem sticking up for yourself." He sounded warmer, more genuinely so than when he's been acting for the others.

"You make it easy," I said with complete honesty, "because you're always willing to listen."

We sat with our own thoughts for a few minutes, watching people bustle up and down the subway steps. I was reminding myself how I'd felt when I was in my more submissive mode and how natural it seemed to let Malcolm take the lead. It would be hard to break out of that, but I was confident that I could if I really needed to.

Another couple had paused a little way away. The guy seemed to be trying to convince his date not to get on a train and to come back to his place instead. We watched, trying to hide our amusement. Her refusals started as polite excuses but gradually transitioned to shouted insults. He just didn't seem to get the message until it was far too late. Apparently, he was shit to their waiter, had shit taste in wine, and had shit for brains if he thought he was good looking enough to get into her pants.

"I had a great time with you today," Malcolm commented ironically as she stormed off.

"I did too. This has been easily the best period date I've ever been on." I leaned into his ear and whispered, "I think you might just be good enough for a second date."

"That's good to hear. We've got some unfinished business." His arm snaked its way from around my back down towards my ass, letting me know just what kind of business he had in mind.

"Mmm," I purred, oblivious to everybody outside our imaginary bubble, "you know I've been soaking wet for you ever since you left that first morning? But I've been a good sub for you, Sir. I've been obeying your first rule."

"Oh? Remind me, what was that?"

"My sexuality is yours, Sir. I only cum when you command."

Sitting on the bench, he couldn't properly grip my ass, but he let me feel his appreciation by slipping inside the band of my panties. Just a quick tease for a second, and then his fingers were gone. "Oh Devyn," his husky voice contrasted the filth of his words, "Once you're off the red wave, I'm going to fuck you so hard, your tough girl exterior will crumble to dust."

I grinned and felt my body respond. I could just imagine it, being spread and mounted, feeling completely full up with his beautiful cock... Ahh! "You really know just how to woo me."


----------

He picked me up from work on Friday. Yes, Friday. It had taken a full week for my biology and our schedules to behave again. A week of anticipation, even more buildup, and sadistic levels of teasing from him. Maybe it had been a mistake to let slip that that bit about him controlling when and if I cum. Maybe that was a bit like giving a fox the keys to the henhouse and then being surprised to find no hens the next morning.

He sent me erotica to read before bed that he'd annotated with thoughts on what he'd do to me if we were in the stories. I'd wake up to voicemails from him with distinctive wet stroking sounds where he described how good it felt to jerk off and cum. Suggestive text messages throughout the day gave me no reprieve and I found myself in a perpetual lusting simmer counting down the hours to release.

I was a little wound up to say the least. My period had ended and, instead of my pads getting drier, their soaking had simply changed colors. I ran to my boyfriend and half way tackled him into a hug against a column, squeezing him as tight as I could, actually cracking his back.

"A good afternoon to you too, madam," his formality joked at my enthusiasm.

"Shut up and fuck me."

"Patience!" He laughed, "all in good time."

"I don't want to be patient anymore! I was promised the fucking of a lifetime and I intent to have it!" I pouted and pulled him around the column out of direct line of sight of my coworkers going home. I kissed him and thrust my hips against his, letting him feel just a bit of how fucking horny he'd made me.

"Well then, fair is fair, let's start things off right now." Malcolm pulled a pair of dark sunglasses out of his pocket and handed them to me, "put these on."

They weren't just dark, they were completely black. No light at all got past their frames, which curved a little to connect with my face around my eyes. They weren't just a lack of sight, like if I'd closed my eyes in the sunlight, they were actual darkness. I might as well have been wearing a blindfold.

I didn't know about the specifics of the scene we were going to have. We'd talked about the main themes to include together but he planned out the details, keeping them mysterious to me. The first theme was trust. "What am I supposed to do with these?" I asked, thinking I could guess and half dreading being right.

"Keep them on while we go back to my place." Behind their dark prisons, my eyes grew wide. He said it casually! Like it was as simple as walking to the corner store for milk. It wasn't! Getting to Malcolm's house in Williamsburg, Brooklyn from Jersey City involved walking to the train station, taking the train into Manhattan, walking a few blocks to another train, taking that into Brooklyn, then walking ten more minutes. 'Holy fucking shit!'

"You're serious..." I wasn't panicking. I wasn't!

Malcolm wrapped his arm around mine and held my hand tightly. "I'll be with you," he said reassuringly, "right beside you the entire way. One step at a time."

I took a very tentative step, Malcolm alongside me. Then another, and another. Cars raced somewhere ahead of me, lots of people chattered all around, another step, someone's dog barked off to the left, a pollster was asking if people could spare a few seconds to talk about the environment, I was sure I was about to crash into something, somebody honked their horn, crash into any one of them, all of them at once --

"Take a deep breath," Malcolm's calm voice seemed to drown out the rest for a second. I realized I was gripping his hand with all my strength. I forced myself to untense and let out the breath I'd been holding. "You're safe, I'm here with you. Just keep focusing on my voice in your head and my arm by your side and everything will be okay."

We'd kept walking while he spoke. I found it easier when I ignored all the noise and just did as he said, focusing on him and his calming voice and relaxed hand.

"Imagine us walking down a nice, scenic path in the country. It's just you and I, walking on. The path is smooth underfoot and a little winding. It's night, but you can make out the moon and stars through the trees above us." He kept speaking continually as we walked, smooth and calm and evenly paced, painting a picture in my head with his words. "You can see a clearing up ahead, filled with flowers. Red roses and yellow tulips seem vibrant in the starlight. We'll get there in a few seconds, just a few more steps, then we'll stop and smell them. Three, two, one, and stop."

I felt hard bumps through my shoes under my feet, the ones put there to let actual blind people know they're about to walk into the street. 'Don't think about that, just keep listening.' I preferred imagining Malcolm's fantasy nighttime stroll much more than the alternative, the reality that I was about to wander blind into a busy street full of rush hour traffic.

"Breath deeply, smell the roses. Breath in through your nose, slow, one, two, three." I thought I could really smell one! "Hold it inside you, one, two, three, and breath out." Something soft brushed my lips and I got blasted by scent again when he repeated the slow, counting breath instruction.

"Hey! Using a real rose is cheating!"

"Oh? Why shouldn't I have plucked a rose for my girlfriend?"

"Way to play into stereotypes, Sir." I tried to downplay the flutters of excitement inside me.

"It's only bad if you don't think things like that are romantic. And I happen to know for a fact that you do, tough guy." I couldn't believe he remembered that. I only admitted it once, ages ago, on a drunken night of gaming where I complained that my boyfriend at the time never did anything cute for me.

It made me feel paradoxically empty and full at the same time. Full of his attention, evidently reciprocating all I'd given him over the years. Also empty. Specifically, there was a hole in my vagina that was crying out to be filled.

"It's nice to get away after a long day of work behind you. The Each step we take carries you further away from your cares and responsibilities. Each step takes you into relaxation and calm. You feel it as we walk, you're becoming calmer and more relaxed against my side here. Keep breathing fully. In -- one, two, three -- hold it -- one, two, three -- and out -- one, two, three. Let more of the calm surrounding us come inside you with each inhale -- one, two, three -- and let your tension leave as you exhale -- one, two, three --"

Malcolm's words seemed to blend together, guiding me through a world of his creation that overlapped with the real world just enough to guide me around obstacles. We picked our way through a "tangle of bushes" that corresponded with the PATH train turnstiles. Down "a hill towards a lake we can see sparkling in the moonlight," lining up with the stairs underground. Finally, we settled into seats "on the boat tethered by the water's edge," feeling hard and plastic and not well suited for an evening's cruise on a lake, but so be it.

I had held close to his side the entire way. It took a conscious effort because we were walking slower than I typically would have. The few times I unconsciously sped up, I very quickly realized I had no idea where I was or where we were going. I had to keep making the deliberate choice to slow myself down and let Malcolm guide me. It became easier as we walked. By the time we settled down on the boat -- train -- I was totally in the follower headspace.

The story Malcolm told had shifted a bit too. He stopped counting off my breathing, for example, but I realized that was because I was following the very slow and deep rhythm myself. I really did feel calm. Far calmer than I should have been while blindfolded and surrounded by chaos with no real notion of where I was. Malcolm was my shepherd. Was it bad to say that I was happy being his sheep?

That didn't quite fit, though. Despite the physical contact between us, I felt sort of free and floaty. Kind of like I was a leaf and Malcolm was the wind, sweeping me wherever he willed. The more his words seemed to flow together, the less they felt like words and the more they felt like a breeze of thoughts going through my head. It was easy to just go with the flow, letting myself be swept along.

On we went, "We'll get to the foot of the hill soon, in a few yards we'll start climbing. You'll be happy to get to the top, you can see it's brighter and clearer, and you'll be glad to leave this behind you." It wasn't that I really believed what he was saying. I knew we were climbing stairs out of the subway. But it wasn't really about being believable. It was about filling my darkness with something. Something special, a private world for just the two of us.

But, at the same time, there was enough overlap to make it believable. Like, when he described something new, he gave me some bit of positive feedback with it that I could hear or feel. Changing directions, going up or downhill, stopping to wait for something -- it wasn't much but it was something. More and more, I found my mind defaulting to the suggestions Malcolm was giving me. Like, as Malcolm's shifting tapestry flowed across my mind, I almost felt it taking shape before my eyes.

I genuinely didn't notice the sounds of the city when we got to the top of Malcolm's hill and out of the subway. Time passed wandering onwards, floating in Malcolm's voice, one step after the next. Five minutes? An hour? Longer? I wasn't quite sure.

Eventually, I became aware that we'd been stopped longer than usual and Malcolm was counting down.

"—Four, consciousness coming back to the surface. Three, climbing upwards, back to the real world. Two, you're waking up, becoming more aware of everything around you. And... one! Wake up, Devyn."

Light flared through me like fire, blinding me just as effectively as the glasses that had just been removed. It sort of felt like I'd just woken up from a lazy Sunday afternoon nap. I frantically rubbed at my eyes, trying to dispel the fog and stop myself from mentally hitting snooze. My entire body felt comfortably lethargic, leaning heavily against Malcolm for support.

"What was that?" I asked, bewildered.

"That was a trance. Now, before you jump to any conclusions, trance isn't magic or mind control or anything like that. You've done it to yourself many times before. You know that feeling you get when you're reading a book? You stop seeing the words on the page and their meaning seems to slip directly into your thoughts and you seem to drift away to wherever you're reading about? That's a trance. It's the same sections of the brain firing."

Unconvinced, I muttered, "I suppose it did feel kind of similar. A little." Forget what he said, Malcolm was a wizard and what he'd just done to me was magic. "Is that what you did to make Chloe cum by talking to her?"

"Yes-ish. You need a lot of repetitions before we'll be able to do that. Think of it like Pavlov training his dog. There's a concept of trigger words that I'll try to make you associate with feeling something or doing something. At first, you'll just go through the motions, but the more times we repeat it, the more it will work. Today was just about introducing the notion of you feeling calm, cool and relaxed listening to my voice." He chuckled a little bit, "although, I suppose, what we just did wasn't necessarily the most relaxing situation for you. I'm impressed with how well you handled it."

The floaty feeling slowly faded as I came more back to myself, like the details of a dream slip away after waking. Just like a dream, the main themes stayed with me. I landed -- if that's the right way to think of it -- still feeling deeply submissive to my shepherd.

My eyes adjusted enough to squint through without being shielded. Malcolm's apartment is much different than mine. There are multiple rooms for one thing. For another, he had inherited a lot of furniture from various family members, which were somewhat the worse for decades of ware but much more personal feeling than my Ikea collection. He also had huge bay windows, which unfortunately didn't overlook anything too exciting but did give him a ton of natural sunlight. I flopped down into a favorite overstuffed reclining chair while Malcolm took long gulps of water. 'He much be parched after talking nonstop.'

As though his fire passed through our connected eyes, it started my own engines reawakening. Fast.

"You remember our safe words?" Malcolm stood over me, rolling up his sleeves deliberately.

"Red to stop and yellow to slow down, Sir." I watched his fingers work over the buttons of his shirt cuffs. The way they nimbly maneuvered the small button nubs through the hole make my clit tingle.

"And what is your responsibility during check ins?" He rolled his sleeves up and neatly adjusted the wrinkles out.

"To always be honest."

"Excellent." He offered me his hand, "then we should do something about your clothing problem."

I took it and stood up, "what's wrong with my clothes?" I played along.

"You're wearing far too much of them."

I couldn't help laughing, despite the erotic mood, "you are so corny, Sir!"

Malcolm couldn't disagree. He unbuttoned my shirt as he pointed out that I'd set up the lob for his corny remark, which apparently made me just as corny as he was. I stood passively, watching his fingers dance as they undressed me. 'Those would be so excellent in my pussy...'

"Have you been an obedient sub, Devyn?"

"Yes, sir," I let the arousal I was feeling seep into my voice, "I've stayed a wet and horny slut for you." Malcolm doesn't typically like the word 'slut,' but sometimes there's no better word. "It was really hard when you kept teasing me, sir, but I'm your loyal and obedient sub."

He was annoyingly efficient, getting my clothes off without even stopping to fondle me. I mean like, what a jerk! He gave my nipples just enough of a grin to let me know he recognized how hard they were, then passed them for my pants without so much as a pinch.

"You think so? Well then perhaps you would care to explain this?" He was trying to sound ominous, but there was an amused twitch in the corners of his mouth as he pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket. It was a printout of the selfie I'd sent him after I shaved my bush, way back after our first night together. It had 'EXHIBIT-1' printed across the top.

"Uh, what?"

"You stole my tie." 'Oh yeah! I did do that, didn't I.' Malcolm tisked in disapproval. He smacked my now bare ass, hard enough to sting a little, "you'll have to be punished."

I yelped a little, but I didn't dislike it. In fact, I kinda liked the burst of sharp sensation. "But sir, it was for a good cause!"

"True enough, you'll get some credit for that, but it won't save your ass. Come." I followed my dom meekly as he lead me into his bedroom to my first spanking.

He sat at the head of his bed, comfortably set up with his pillows between him and the headboard. I was draped over his legs, face down and butt up, my legs spread just wide enough for my pussy to be on display. 'The bar just keeps getting raised,' I thought, 'he keeps finding new Most-Revealing-Position-Yet-s.' I couldn't see anything, could only feel as his idly traced over my thighs and ass.

"You weren't exaggerating, you really are a fountain down here," he spread wet pussy juice from my upper thighs further across my legs. My face glowed red into the bed. 'Yeah, that's what happens when you take a woman who's used to cumming every day and make her wait for two weeks!'

His hands felt amazing. I shivered at his touch, half tensing in

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