Some Call It Play

SOME CALL IT PLAY

By Charles E. Campbell

Chapter 4

The Book Club

   After I had extracted diana’s commitment to total slavery and servitude our lives initially only changed a slight amount. She needed only another five months at her job in order to make her eligible for the next pay grade change for her pension, so retiring now wasn’t wise. I did not hold fast to a dress code for her to adhere to when it came to work. Skirts and dresses only, no slacks allowed. Stockings were required with garters or a garter belt. Panty hose were strictly forbidden, as was any underwear. Her feet were to be in heels at work, flats weren’t acceptable to me. I liked the way heels stretched her long lithe legs. Make-up was to be applied heavier than it had been prior to her slavery.

   I was pleased at how well diana accepted all of this, at least outwardly. There was one co-worker of hers, a younger woman, with whom I knew she confided many things. I never asked her if she had told her friend of her new condition. Time will tell has long been a favorite motto of mine.

   Being naked at home was a rule she seemed to acclimate to very quickly. She was top strip in the garage, and was not allowed to be clothed in the house, ever. I did allow one exception top this rule, and that was if one or both of our children was home visiting us. Our new lifestyle arrangements was not something either of us felt they needed to know about.

   The first few times diana answered the door for a deliveryman or a salesman, she blushed quite profusely, but she never once complained, or even mentioned it to Me. She even seemed to really relish her nudity one Saturday morning when three Jehovah’s Witnesses showed up at our door in the bright morning sun, only to be greeted by a pierced and branded naked woman, who seemed all too eager to hear what they had to say. After a while, I joined her at the door to experience first hand their collective looks of bewilderment. With no cut whatsoever from Me, diana dropped impromptu to her knees, undid My jeans and started to suck Me off. The three religious missionaries, two women and a man, beat a hasty retreat. I’m sure we’re now at the head of some “Do Not Visit!” list with their sect.

   It was at this time that I had begun to formulate the plans for My slave’s formal collaring ceremony. Where it was to be held, who would be in attendance, what rituals were to be observed....... I was in no rush. I wanted ti to be done right, and advanced planning would help to insure that it would be an event that would be a high watermark event for us both. In the meantime, I wanted to keep diana fresh and off her guard. Complacency was to be avoided.

   A colleague of mine at school, an adjunct and a lesbian, hosted an informal unsanctioned book club whenever the spirit moved her. Women only. Lesbian and Bi only. Nothing on any calender somewhere, or listed in the University’s clubs and activities booklets. Basically what would happen is that one of the six women in the group would suggest a book, they would all read it, and then they would decide on a location where they would meet and discuss the book over dinner. Often nights they would end up paired off in a bedroom or on the most convenient carpet. Needless to say, this all too conservative university where we were employed, knew nothing of the existence of this group. Students were strictly forbidden. My colleague, Kim, wasn’t the leader of the book club, there wasn’t a leader really, but she suggested books and provided a meeting place more frequently than any other member, so I knew she would be the one to approach about adding a new “member” to a meeting.

   I had suggest a book to Kim which I felt might “stimulate” the group in their discussion, and quite possibly afterwards as well. It was the French novel “L’Image,” by Jean deBerg.

   Kim seemed receptive to My suggestions, especially when I told her that I would like for My wife to attend their book club meeting when they discussed that particular book. I added that diana would be amenable to “anything”, absolutely “anything” that Kim, or any of the other women present might like. I also informed her that even though diana didn’t meet the group’s requirement regarding sexual orientation or pe=references, she was totally obedient, and would avail herself in any manner whatsoever.

   I told diana virtually nothing about the book club. I had handed her a copy of the book and said, “ I want you to read this book, slave, and be prepared to discuss it in three days time.”

   “Yes, Master,” she replied, taking the book from me and scanning the cover.

   At dinner the next night, diana said, “It’s similar to “The Story of O” in many ways, isn’t it?”

   “There are many obvious similarities, of course,” I countered, “but there are many differences, both subtle and outright as well. Have you finished it yet?”

   “Yes, Sir. I finished it at lunch. I want to read it a second time, though. Some sections were too intense to assimilate in one reading.”

   “I have a friend at school,” I told her, “a colleague of Mine. She’s an adjunct in Women’s Studies. She runs a small impromptu book club. They are reading your book and will be meeting tomorrow night to discuss it. You are to attend the meeting and see what else you might derive from the book club members discussions.”

   My slave looked at Me quizzically, but agreed, “As it pleases You, Sir.”

   Friday night, I gave directions to diana on how to get to Kim’s house and sent her on her way, admonishing her to be open minded.

   When diana arrived at the house, she walked up the flagstone path to the front door and knocked. A huge bull mastiff charged the door, tail wagging furiously, slobber flinging wildly as he shook his gargantuan head. “Down Samson,” a husky voice barked from within.

   A short stocky woman appeared, wearing an oversized men’s flannel work shirt, baggy khakis, and tasseled loafers. “I’m Kim, you must be diana, David’s wife. “Please come in.”

   Kim stepped aside, allowing diana to enter. She made no attempt to restrain the beast alongside her as he immediately shoved his wet snout up under diana’s skirt, burying his nose in her crotch. Before either woman had time to react, Samson’s thick tongue got in two laps on diana’s bald nether lips.

   “Heel, Samson,” Kim commanded powerfully, grabbing hold of the studded leather collar that encircled his muscular neck, and jerking the dogs’ head out from between diana’s legs.  “Sorry about that,” she offered half-heartedly. “He can’t help himself. He’s hetero!

   “Come in, and join us. We’re still waiting for two of the ladies, but I’ll introduce you to the ones who are here.”

   Diana followed Kim, who was dragging the dog along with her into the kitchen. It was a roomy country style kitchen that obviously belonged to a culinary afficionado. Heavy expensive stainless steel pots and skillets hung from a rack that was suspended from the ceiling over an island type work station. A large double door refrigerator was on one wall, with an institutional gas range and oven on the outside wall.

   Three women were standing around the perimeter of the room, leaning against the sinks and cabinets. One woman was a but older than diana, her white hair worn tightly in a bun. She was wearing a dark Scottish tartan skirt and a pleated white blouse with a tightly buttoned collar. Knee high blue woolen socks and penny loafers finished her ensemble. She was introduced as Maggie. The other two women were much younger, early thirties tops. They were dressed similarly to each other in form fitting t shirts which showed off the outline and color of their small puffy nipples that capped their all but non-existent breasts. Bicycle shorts hugged their thin legs and accentuated their taut buns. They were both barefoot.

   Christina and Sharon were their names, although diana quickly forgot which one was which.

   “This is diana,” Kim announced. “She’ll be joining our discussion tonight. I believe she will be able to give a fresh and relevant perspective to out talk.”

   At once diana’s eyes shot over to meet Kim’s as she realized what the implication of the introduction meant. A slight twinkle in Kim’s eyes finalized the discreet communication between them, and signaled that no further discourse would be required.

   “Hi everyone,” two voices called out cheerily from the front door as Samson broke away from Kim and bounded joyously to greet the new arrivals. “Oh, Samson,” a wishful voice wined, “You always greet Donna first!”

   As the two women joined the assemblage in the kitchen, one of the woman had hiked her skirt up in back, making it easier for Samson to invade her. “This dog really has the most heavenly tongue in the world, Kim, she said, as Samson lapped away. “I really would like to borrow him forma weekend sometime!”

   All of the women laughed at the little joke together.

   “Donna and Bea, this is diana. She is the wife of a friend of mine from school, and she’ll be sitting in on our discussion tonight.”

   “Wife,” Bea mocked sarcastically?

   “She’s much more than just a wife, Bea. Much,  much, more, as I am sure she will be glad to tell us all later.

    “Come on, now. Let’s all sit down and eat. I’m starved!”

   The dinner was tasty. A chicken dish of Thai origin with herbs and served over a bed of rice. Fresh asparagus spears and a green salad, a simple white wine and pop overs rounded out the main course. Dessert was a scrumptious seven layer cake served with espresso coffee.        

   The dishes were piled neatly in the sink and the women retired to the living room to begin their discussion of “L”Image.

   The group reconvened in the living room, which was hardly much more than a cozy den, filled with overstuffed chairs. The chairs had been prearranged into a circle, and each of the six women moved instantly to what seemed to be a pre-ordained position in the circle, leaving one chair vacant for their guest. Diana took her cue and sat on the old ladder back chair with a wooden seat, and no cushion.

   “So that our guest may understand our rules,” Kim began, “I will go over them now.

   “The first thing we do, is that we vote, by a show of hands, on who liked or who didn’t like the book. The ones who didn’t like it go first, explaining their objections, criticisms, reservations, what have you. They are followed by arguments from the ones who enjoyed it, stating their reasoning. After that, an open discussion follows, which can get pretty heated up at times, as I suspect tonight’s discussion will be.

   “Any questions?”

   “N....no, I don’t think so, thank you,” diana responded.

   “Alright then,” Bea started, “Who the hell liked this piece of crap?”

   Diana looked around the circle and saw Kim raise her hand, followed by Maggie and Donna. Diana meekly raised her hand in agreement.

   “You’re fucking kidding me, right?” Bea chided them.

   “Foul,” Christina chirped.

   “What do you mean, foul? You didn’t like it either,” Bea countered angrily.

   “Regardless, no bias statements are allowed until after the vote is taken. You know the rules, Bea.”

   “Alright. If it’ll make you feel better. I rephrase.....All those who liked this book, please raise your hand.” Once again, Kim, followed by Maggie, Donna, and diana all raised their hands.

   “And who didn’t like it?” Bea shot her hand up the second she had asked the question and looked around the circle for some support. Only Sharon’s hand went up.

    “Is anyone neutral about the book?”

   Christina raised her hand alone.

   “Fine. Donna, you go first. What didn’t you like about “L’Image?”

    “My initial thoughts,” Dona began, “Were that it was just a rehash of ‘The Story If O.’        I really would have liked some explanation as to why Anne was the slave of Clare in the first place. How she got to where she was. Some in depth background would have helped me a lot It would have at least made me neutral about the book.”

   “That’s all you can say?” Bea asked, stunned.

   “Yes. I’m close to being neutral about it, maybe even enjoying it somewhat if there was more. Another fifty pages, a hundred even would have been good.”

   “What about the fact that these books are always for straights, Donna? Why’d they have to ruin it by bringing in the male character of jean? Anne could have been shared with another woman just as well, if not better! Why a male? In O there is at least that whole chapter at Anne-Marie’s.

   “I’m just sick of women always submitting to men,” Bea continued. “What was Anne’s motivation to submit. Wasn’t belonging to Clare enough?”

   She paused for a moment, and then continued somewhat more calm, “I mean, while I can’t understand Anne’s need to be a submissive, I would think that Clare was taking care of those needs pretty well. The public humiliations, the beatings, the way she made Anne kneel and present herself. What purpose did Jean’s character serve?

   “If I’m going to read a novel like this, just once I’d like it to remain female/female. I also agree that the author needs to spend a great deal more time explaining Anne’s background. Why she is submissive. What she gets in return from it. It seems to me to be a male fantasy thing more than a reality. I need to be made to understand Anne’s needs and what she derives from the tortures she endures.”

   A long silence followed as everyone mulled over Bea’s words. It was Maggie who broke the silence. Standing up, she poured herself a second cup of espresso and said, “I’ll go next.

    “I like the writing style best. The words painted crystal clear images in my mind as I read each page of the book. I read it all in one night, by the way, and re-read it over the next two days, slower. More deliberate. The book intentionally caused an ebbing and flowing of my emotions, first turning me on, then, slowly, easing me back down. I am forced to admit that some of the pages got a little slick that first night I read it.

    “And that is, I guess, the reason why I liked it. It was never intended to be a great literary work. It was intended to stimulate the reader at a much more base and gutter level, and it succeeded handsomely. I have never indulged in Dominance and submission myself, but after reading ‘L’Image” I think I might like to experience it.”

   Throughout the rest of the discussions, diana remained silent and sat still, trying to blend into the room and not be seen. Finally, Christina seemed to notice their guest and said, “I’d like to hear from our newcomer. Especially since she’s hetero. I would like to think she may have some different perspectives to present.”

   Diana saw something register across Kim’s face that told her the evening was about to take a dramatic turn. “I liked the book,” diana offered, still seated in the uncomfortable chair. “I think that there are a lot of women who have the ‘damsel in distress’ or ‘captive princess’ sort of fantasy still with them from their childhood. This book takes all of that to a whole other level, of course........but it’s really the same thing.”

   No one spoke, and the silence made diana nervous, so she continued, “The whole thing is really about trust. A level of trust, mutual trust, that I’m not sure can be attained in a straight relationship, whether it be gay or not.”

   That last sentence perked a couple of ears to. “To give one’s self over like that,” she continued, almost arguing for her lifestyle, “To place yourself in their hands, completely. To take the responsibility of that trust as a Top is very difficult. In many ways it is harder than the act of surrendering yourself.”

   Further silence ensued. Everyone, except Kim, had no idea what they had just heard. Then Kim said, “ diana, I think it time we share your secret with my friends, don’t you?

   Diana gave no reply. Her face flushed slightly and she held her head down. She suddenly felt very warm.

   “Stand up,” Kim commanded!

    Diana stood slowly. “I wish to see you naked,” she ordered. Strip yourself, but leave your heels on!”

   The slave only hesitated for a moment before she began to remove her clothing and stamnd naked before the group of women.

   “Diana is a slave,” Kim explained as all eyes were on the naked woman in their midst. “She lives a life of servitude and submission. She has entered into this life willingly and of her own accord. It is what she wants. It is what her husband and Master wants.

   “Her Master needs to exercise His will over her, and she needs to surrender her will to Him in exchange. As you can plainly see, she bears His brand on her leg. She has been pierced by Him and she still shows recent whip marks of His on her thighs, belly and breasts. All of these things are a constant source of pride for diana. She is the living embodiment of Anne in the novel, except that with diana, this is not the figment of some author’s imagination. For her it is real. It is what she is.”

   Then, back to diana, she said, “Quite lovely indeed, but I know you have received far better training than your posture would indicate, haven’t you? I’m not sure if it is forgetfulness, or insolence on your part, but this is hardly the proper posture you should assume when presenting yourself formally.”

   “Hands behind your head! Lace your fingers together!”

   Diana complied instantly.

    “Spread your legs apart..............Wider!

    “Modesty is quite unbecoming in a slave.

    “Pull your shoulders back. Sticks your tits out!

    “It should make you feel proud to stand before us, naked under our gaze and scrutiny. You are much lovelier like this. Whenever you present yourself, it must always be done in such a manner as to draw your attention to your servitude and submissiveness, while at the same time, allowing an unobstructed view of your complete openness.”

    Kim got up and strode around diana, adding, “you should derive a strong sense of pride at being placed on display like this, especially in front of total strangers, without your Master being present.”

   Kim continued to slowly walk around the naked slave. Ever so lightly, she would touch her, or caress her. Gently she lifted diana’s breasts, feeling their heft. Then she patted te bald pussy, allowing her finger to drift into the furrow, and feeling the wetness that was already present.

   “Clean me,” she ordered, holding her moist finger under diana’s nose. As ordered, diana licked  and sucked on the digit lightly, tasting herself, and reveling in the humiliation of it.

   “It is my intention to present you with a gift this evening, slave. A very profound and meaningful gift. I am going to present you with the gift of my marks upon your body. I am going to adorn and decorate your body with stripes and welts for your and Master David to enjoy. And, as I whip you, you will reciprocate, by giving me in return, your gift of pain as you receive my marks.

   “Kneel!”

   Diana fell to her knees at Kim’s feet.

   “I will now teach you the position of the proper supplicant. You would do well to remember it. This is the proper position whenever you beg for forgiveness, or when you have been granted permission to ask a question.

   “Spread your knees. Wider.....Wider! Arms straight up, over your head. Hands open. Arch your back, push your chest forward.”

    Not a sound was heard from the other five women as they all sat there, transfixed. So complete was their collective astonishment as they witnessed the spectacle that was unfolding before their eyes.

   “You will now beg me......., no, not beg......Implore me to whip you. Prove to me and my friends that you are worthy of receiving my marks upon your body. Tell us all how blessed it would make you feel. Tell us how proud it will make you if I consent to whip you, welt and stripe you, and quite possibly, even draw your blood.”

   Diana paused a few seconds, gathering her thoughts. Then, with her head lowered in total submission, she simply stated, “There is nothing I could ever do to make myself worthy of your attentions and ministrations, Mistress. For I am not now, nor will I ever be elevated to the level of status that would require. I can only beg you to use me in any way you see fit, for your enjoyment, and for your honored guests. I wish you to know that I will endeavor to do all that I can to accept that which is given me, and entertain all of you however you may wish. My sole purpose is to serve. To be used for the enjoyment of others. It is only through that service that I can truly serve my Master.

   “I implore you, on my knees before you all, to please be as severe with me as you desire. Use me as you wish. I ask only one thing, Mistress, if I may be so bold?”

   “And what might that be, cunt?”

   “I only ask that you please ignore my screams, my cries for mercy. Exact your pleasure as each of you pleases, but give no consideration to me.”

   “Ladies,” Kim announced, “If any of you might like to inspect our evening’s entertainment before we proceed.....?”

    Christina got up first from behind diana. She slid her hand down the crevice of diana’s buttocks and shoved a finger into each of the two orifices at the same time, roughly forcing her fingers deeply into the slave and twisting them around inside of her. A second finger was added into each hole on a forward push, eliciting a high pitched chirp from the throat of the startled slave.

   Maggie unceremoniously got up and left them all in the living room. All eyes followed her as she made her hasty exit, but no one questioned where she was going.

   Bea seemed most fascinated by the brand on diana’s leg. Her fingers timidly explored the deeply burned scar, feeling the depth and rough texture. Her inspection completed, she then began tugging on the nipple rings, watching the holes as they distorted from the jewelry being pulled.

   Kim sat back and watched it all for a few minutes. Then Maggie returned with a small bundle of forsythia branches in her hand. Diana’s eyes widened as she recognized the switches and what they would soon be used for.

   “Does anyone have a plausible suggestion as to how we can equitably enjoy our slave,” Kim inquired of the group? Shall we draw straws, or should we all just take turns?”

   Christina suggested, “I think you should go first, Kim. After all, you’re the person responsible for her being here with us tonight. We could all take turns after you have a go of her.”

   “Thank you for your courteous offer, Chris, but I should like to be last, actually. I have something very special in mind for her, and I think that by the very nature of it, it must be the last thing before we send her home to her Owner.”

       

   All this time, diana knelt there, stock still, listening, waiting. She felt a bead of perspiration slowly make it’s way from her right armpit and work it’s way down the outside of her chest. She worked hard to focus her mind on the drop’s progress, rather than on who would be first with her.

   It turned out to be Donna. “Open your eyes and look into mine, cunt!” she barked.

   Diana looked up into the twin steel blue eyes. “I’m going to whip those titties of yours, bitch,” she proclaimed. Ask me to whip your titties!”

   “If it would please you, Mistress, please whip my breasts. It would be an honor to bear your marks.”

   Donna began by slapping diana’s breasts with her hands. Left, right, left right, developing a steady rhythm, slapping the orbs each in turn, and watching as they bounced inward with each blow.

   The pale white flesh quickly turned pink as the slapping continued unabated, and began to increase in severity. Diana felt the burning sting of the onslaught, but only moaned softly in response.

   Donna stopped slapping and reached down to undo the thick leather belt that encircled her tiny waist at the top of her short skirt. She made a ceremony out of holding it up in front of diana’s eyes as she doubled it over and slapped it against her own palm. Donna said nothing. She just began to use the belt on the same area of each breast that she had assaulted with her hand only a few moments before. The belt, however, drew an immediate cry of pain from the kneeling slave. Donna recoiled at the scream, and stopped whipping her.

   “Please, if I may speak, Mistress,” diana said softly. “Please show no concern for me. Treat my cries as a Hymn of praise to you for your consideration and for giving me such lavish attention. Pay me no heed. Allow me to present you with the gift of my pain.”

   Donna’s face registered total disbelief, but she raised the belt and brought it down on diana’s chest even harder than before, seemingly outraged by the slave’s comments. Diana screamed at the top of her lungs. The belt fell again and again, Donna seemed to by hypnotized by the damage she was bringing to the soft flesh. Dark red and purple blotches and welts covered the skin as diana fought to kneel in place

   A thick tangle of bruises and welts covered the slave’s breasts, almost no pale white skin remained. Tears poured freely from her eyes as she screamed anew with each vicious stroke of the leather heavy belt. Finally, Donna seemed to have had enough, and dropping the belt at her feet, she panted, “Who’s next?”

    Maggie stood up, holding her forsythia branches. “I’ll need some help here. I want her on her belly across the coffee table. Bea, please?”

   The two woman helped diana get up and lead her to the table. They then helped her lay down on her freshly beaten breasts. Her head hung over the edge of the table and they pulled her arms and legs apart, making her lie obscenely spread eagle. Maggie removed her white blouse, revealing a breastless chest covered in surgical scars, the obvious and painful reminders of two radical mastectomies.

   Maggie selected a branch, feeling it’s suppleness, and then she began to relentlessly whip diana across her shoulder blades. Each stroke left a red mark on contact. White hot flames of fire tore through diana as she screamed with each blow. The switch didn’t last too long in the furious barrage, and was splintered. Maggie indifferently picked up two branches and simply started again. When those two were ruined as well, she picked up the remaining six switches and started on diana’s back. And thighs. She beat the slave so hard that she had to call Christina and Kim over top help her friends hold diana’s arms and legs, limiting their range of motion. The backs of her thighs were bleeding, with many splinters imbedded in the torn skin.

   Sharon was beckoned by the wide spread legs. The shaved holes inviting her imagination to run wild. She inserted one of the empty wine bottles into diana’s pussy, fucking her with it until she was moaning in pleasure. Then she removed it, happy with it’s slick wet coating, and shoved it up diana’s ass as far as it would go. A shriek from diana’s startled lips told Sharon that the slave was not enjoying the anal intrusion.

   As Sharon continued the rape of diana’s ass with the wine bottle, Christina was busy as well. Having stripped herself naked, she started to buckle the leather harness of a strap on. The three inch thick ten inch long black runner phallus firmly protruding from her groin, Christina knelt in front of diana and slowly introduced it into her mouth. “Get it good and wet, cunt. We wouldn’t want it to tear at your insides too much,” she said mockingly.

   Diana tried her best to comply, working hard to cover the huge surface with as much saliva as she could muster. Christina started thrusting her hips forward, ramming the rubber dick to the back of diana’s throat, causing her to choke and retch, coating it with a thick tan colored bile.  Sharon pulled the wine bottle out, and switched places with Christina, who plunged the entire ten inches deep into diana’s bowels in one violent push. Bea squatted in front of the slave and said, “Get me off, slut!”

   The slave began lapping at the bald slit that had been pushed into her face. The rhythmic thrusts from Christina’s strap on forced diana’s face into the wet pussy as her tongue vigorously sought to bring to pleasure. It didn’t take long before Bea was clutching diana’s head by her hair and holding it against her mound to get the fullest treatment from the eagerly probing tongue.

   When Bea was sated, the assaults ended at both ends of the slave at the same time.

   “My turn, now, the hostess proclaimed. “Here Samson!”

   The beast required no prodding at all, seeming to sense what was expected from him, as he began exploring the wet holes at the juncture of diana’s wide spread legs, which she now held open herself.

   Bea allowed the canine to continue lapping away long past the point of diana’s initial humiliation. Then she pulled the dog away by his collar and had him place his meaty front paws on diana’s back, bringing his cock to her face. The swollen knot popped out, and diana felt it’s blood red wet thickness enter in through her lips. She closed her eyes and sucked the dog as he fucked her mouth. In less than ten seconds, he shot his vile load into her mouth, which she knew she was required to swallow.

   Christina and Donna helped diana get up off the coiffee table. Althougn most of the bleeding had stopped and clots dotted the backs of her thighs, there were still  many welts that blood was seeping from. Her breasts were grotesquely swollen and bruised, turning dark shades of purples and reds, with the outline of the belt clearly visible in many places.

   Kim put a towel down on the couch and diana sat down deliberately,  slowly. Obviously very fatigued from her ordeal. “Diana,” Bea asked softly, sitting next to her and gently stroking  the slave’s hair, “Why do you do this? It’s almost like you are living the life that Anne chose in ‘L’Image’?”

   Her head remaining down, diana responded, “I’ve asked myself that same question countless times since my Husband and I embarked on this journey together. In all sincerity and truth, Ma’am, I really have no idea what it is that drives me to do this. I really don’t. But I also recognize that it is a strong need that I have. That David has, and that we both have together as a couple, as partners. It fulfills us. Completes us. It binds us closer together than I ever would have believed possible. I don’t wish to sound insolent, but I don’t think any of you can understand, and please believe me when I say that it has nothing what so ever to do with your sexual orientation. I know gay and lesbian couples who live as Master David and I do, and I know that they also understand what we share. It’s just that I can’t see how anyone, gay or straight, could possibly fathom what we derive as partners in a D/s lifestyle relationship.

   “And I must stress the use of the word ‘partners’. David and I have both entered into this lifestyle freely. Equally. We lived as a regular married couple for a great many years before we made this commitment to ourselves and to each other. There can be no turning back now. This is who we are.

   “I know that I am to undergo a formal collaring ceremony fairly soon. At this ceremony, I will be publically renouncing any claims I have over anything, including myself. I will be giving myself up to Master David to become His slave. His property. I will no longer have any possessions at all. Even my body will become His to do with as He wishes. For His pleasure alone. His needs.

    “It will be the happiest day of my life when I am permitted to present myself to Him. I will then become totally free.”

   No one offered a response. They all sat staring at her in silence for a few minutes, and then, their hostess said, “I guess we’ve pretty much covered tonight’s book. Thank you all for coming.”

   As a group, they all left together, chatting quietly as the walked down the path to their cars. Only Kim and diana remained. They kissed and hugged on the couch and slowly enjoyed each other, taking and giving pleasure in return. Then Kim sent My slave home to me, alone and naked in the car.