When I arrived, Tucker greeted me at the door with a playful mood. He was eager to show me a new Lego space station he had built and whisked me toward his room. As we breezed by the kitchen, I caught a glimpse of my love in an apron at the stove. She was cooking onions and didn’t bother to pause to formally greet me. I played it coy with a simple, “Hey, Regina.” She smiled, returning the “Hey.”
Tucker spent about 15 minutes showcasing every single detail of his space station. I was thinking, “Enough already, kid. I really need to go flirt with your mom.” But he eventually was forced to finish as Regina called us to the table for garden burgers with grilled onions.
Dinner was great. All three of us told stories and joked around. Things suddenly got a little dicey when Tucker surprised the table with, “Did you know my mom has a lover?” “Oh, really?” I responded anxiously, “Who is it?”
Regina looked really nervous and started to blush! I was quite eager to learn the answer from Tucker. In a split second, my mind was racing through possible scenarios that Tucker was referring too. Though I doubted Regina really had a lover, my eyes were locked on to Tucker’s mouth to see the words of truth the moment they escaped his lips.
And then they came… “She’s in love with Brock. She wants him to knock on her door and sweep her away,” spouted Tucker. “Oh, really?” I pressed while trying to contain my flaring jealousy. I turned to Regina and coldly pushed, “I’ve never heard of this, Brock.” Regina was composing her answer in her brain when Tucker jumped in with, “He’s the rich businessman on her soap opera. Every girl on the show is crazy about him.” Phew!! Well! At least that was some kind of relief… I guessed. But even though it was only a soap character, I still had thoughts racing. I excused myself to the bathroom.
Once in the bathroom, I texted Regina as fast as my thumbs could fly. Here’s the text conversation:
ME
“WTFFFFFF? Are you straight?”
REGINA
Haha!! You might be over thinking it!! Let’s talk after Tux’s dad picks him up. I’M IN LOVE WITH YOU!
ME
Ok. Coming out now. Fuck.
When I rejoined them at the table, I led with, “Did you guys know today is Friday the 13? They smiled and we all talked about the validity of superstitions and whether we have any. Of course, Regina and I were trying to have a different conversation via our eye contact. But it wasn’t really working and seemed to satisfy neither of our emotional questions for each other.
We bounced along several topics of conversation until the end of dinner. Afterward, Regina poured me a cognac and we sat in the living room by the piano. I asked if she would play me a song, but she demurred and insisted that she was a sucky piano player, only keeping the piano for Tucker. But he boasted that she was a fabulous player. With that, I urged Regina to play. But she flat out refused with, “How about them Giants?” Which basically means, the case is closed.
Luckily, Alex showed up to pick up Tucker. Regina introduced me as her “dear friend, Meg.” Fair enough. Alex was not like I expected. I think I had been expecting one of those rich business types, clean cut, type A, who abuses substances and women in direct contradiction to their clean cut appearance. But Alex, on the other hand, was artistic looking and had the air of a Robert Downey, Jr. His goatee and intensely focused eyes pulsated his Scorpio vibe. He was quite handsome and charming. It’s easy to see why Regina was initially attracted to him.
Tucker seemed to be drawn to him as they joked around and teased each other. But their rapport was nothing close the bond I had seen between Tucker and his mom. Surprisingly, Alex was flirting with me… at least that was the vibe he gave off. Like drugs and alcohol, sex was probably another one of the weapons in his coping quiver. In reading Regina, I could tell that she picked up on his flirting with me. I’m sure she has seen that side of him a hundred times during their relationship. Between the two of them, the air was cool but taut. There was a subtext of bad history mixed with the love that once was.
Tucker grabbed his stuff, hugged Regina and I, and off they went.
Before I could draw a sip of cognac to help change gears, Regina dove right in to the Brock thing. The conversation went like this:
REGINA
He’s just a guy on TV. It’s stupid.
ME
But he’s a guy! Are you attracted to guys? It makes me wonder if we can be in this for the long haul?
REGINA
What the hell? The whole point of this relationship is that we both finally realized that we are neither straight nor gay. Our sexual identity is kink. It is about fitting together.
ME
Well, yeah.
REGINA
Don’t you ever fantasize about some other parallel life that has nothing to do with reality?
ME
But he’s a man. I’m not a man.
REGINA
Don’t you think living that life in a mansion and having more money than God would be fun? Wouldn’t it feel good for a guy to lavish you with expensive gifts and take you on vacations to Monaco? It’s just a stupid fantasy.
ME
I’m putting all of myself into this relationship. Since I met you, I haven’t fantasized about wanting a different life… or man. When we met, I finally felt like my true self had been realized beyond any other needs.
REGINA
Me too! The TV show is escapism for me. It’s just a way to unwind. You can’t read that much into it. If I fantasize about living in an 18th century French Chateau, that doesn’t mean I really want that in real life.
ME
Can’t you see how it’s confusing for me?
REGINA
We can’t be the thought police! If you read a novel, I’m not going to be offended if you have feelings for the protagonist, even if it’s a dude. It’s a fucking character. You know who you are to me. You know how I adore you! I want to be your slave and have you piss in my face. What more could I possibly do to I prove that I’m crazy about you and devoted to our relationship?
In fact, she was right. No matter how great Brock is, I’m the one who is tying up Regina. I’m the one whose feet she licks. I’m the one who spanks her until she cries. I’m the one she trusted with Tucker today.
We stared at each other as I released my doubts and jealousy. I dropped to my knees in a heartfelt submissive manner and hugged her legs softly. “I’m sorry, Regina. I feel so good about our relationship that it seems precarious at times. How can two people have it this good? It makes me think there is another shoe that will drop at some point. ”
Regina stroked my hair softly for a while, accepting my apology. “Stay on your knees”, she commanded in an emotionless monotone. I remained posed in the submissive position… as her slave. It felt sexy and dark to acquiesce to her command. Even though it was not in the context of the game, it felt healthy to submit to her.
She went to the piano, taking a seat on the bench. After a contemplative pause, her fingers pressed the keys and she started to play a song. The music flowed as if it being played by a master talent. The song was full and rich modern classical music in the vein of a Philip Glass composition. There was no melody at all. It was just a swirling, rolling, melding of musical waves. It was the audio version of starling murmurations… you know, when thousands of birds flock together to create memorizing black patterns in the sky. That was Regina’s music. It was especially intoxicating as I knelt before her.
After about two minutes, BLAM! She stopped cold. The abrupt silence felt like a jump into an icy lake. She looked at me to gauge my satisfaction. Her look was cute, kind of like she was an embarrassed teenager after performing at the school talent show. I told her it was amazing. She deflected my compliment, then rose from the piano bench, took my hands and raised me to my feet.
It was delightful that she felt comfortable enough with me to share her playing. In fact, it was her song. She made it up on the spot and said she had nev
er played it before… basically just freely jamming. That was her style and she lamented that she never learned to play proper piano.
Feeling much closer, we put our hands around each other’s waists, pulling in close. We kissed and kissed in an amazing connection. It was really getting me moist. I swear, if I were a guy I would want to take my dick out and bend her over the piano!
But then, she spoke quietly… “Can you believe how blue the sky was today?” Before I could answer, she continued, “I’m here to serve you, Mistress.” My ears welcomed this sentence; especially since a moment earlier I was in a submissive position. But I was definitely in the mood to top her.
Popping into mistress mode, I demanded she find her homemade leather (haut-couture) collar and strap it onto herself tightly.
“Yes, Mistress,” she eagerly responded before heading toward her room.
A moment later, she returned with the collar on, her head down and awaiting my next command. She had taken my request very seriously regarding the tightness of the collar. The skin on either side of it was puckered with redness. “You need to go outside and cut your self a switch from the ash tree that I will use to punish you. The thinner the stick, the more blows you must endure. If you choose a thicker stick, I will use fewer blows… but they will hurt 10 times as much,” I explained coldly. Then I clarified it with, “In other words, choose the thinner one if you want more welts and whip tracks on your skin. Choose the heavier one if you prefer bruises instead. “Yes, Mistress. I understand,” she answered solemnly.
I took a seat on the piano bench to wait. As I sat, she broke my moment of relaxation with, “Mistress, may I have permission to get a knife from the kitchen to cut the switch?” After thinking just a beat, I granted her request with a condition attached… “First, you must bring me our boots and put them on me.”
She went to her room to fetch the boots. When she returned, she helped me into the boots with the skill of a shoe salesgirl from Barney’s. It felt special and important to have an attendant who provided such excellent service to me.
Once I was in the boots, she remained kneeling at my feet. Clearly turned on, she hesitantly asked permission to lick my boots, which I denied. She seemed surprised at the denial and groveled, “I understand Mistress. Please forgive me for asking so selfishly.”
It was mind-bogglingly hot to see how deep and how quickly she had fallen into the game. Regular Regina was a thousand miles a way. The slave Regina was completely mired in the present.
If I would have told her to walk to the 7-1l store completely naked, I’m positive she would have thrown herself into it without the slightest thought of the legality or dangers involved. The teacher Regina was somebody completely different. But of course, as a responsible slave owner, I would never subject her to anything in the game that could be detrimental in real life. Plus, we have rules about that.
Unlike Regina, I am able to be deeply engrossed in the game while still keeping a toe on the ground in the real world. Do you know how dolphins sleep? They literally turn off half their brain and let it sleep while the other half remains just lucid enough to maintain function and watch for dangers. Isn’t that the coolest? That’s kind of how I am in the game. But that doesn’t mean I’m not profoundly engaged in our scenes.
“Bring me that switch,”I blasted. Terrified and eager to make up for the overindulgence on the boots, she immediately grabbed a knife from the kitchen and headed out the back door to the ash tree.
The Helmut Newton book called out to me as I sat on the piano bench. I began thumbing through it while the slave went about her task outdoors.
It must have been 10 minutes before she returned. That seemed like an excessive amount of time just to cut a branch from a tree. Was she indecisive about the weight of the switch? Was she having difficulty cutting the branch? Either way, it was grounds for punishment.
Finally, she returned, holding not one but two switches in her hands. One was the diameter of a pencil. It would really bite when whipped! The other was the thickness of the fat end of a pool cue. That hunk of wood looked dangerous. She was a brave woman!
“You brought me two. How indecisive of you. So I shall use both.” But here’s the crazy part… she had literally whittled the bark off the top six inches of each stick to reveal a perfectly smooth, white handle that gave it both functionality and a fine aesthetic. Clearly, she was aiming to protect the delicate hand of her mistress. It was her choice to leave the business-end of each stick covered in bark. That’s because in her mind, she is not worthy of something fine and clean. Yep, she took the task seriously and wanted to please me.
I took the sticks from her hand and set them on the piano. Then I held her close and kissed her softly on her lips and neck. She purred in delight at being able to connect with me in a loving manner.
Embracing her with one hand, I caressed her hair and ear with my other hand. She relished it in the way that felt like when an opera singer delivers a show-stopper of a song and has to stand there soaking up an interruption of two standing ovations before returning to the performance. There is nothing to do but bask in the warmth when someone is adoring you.
And to clinch the feeling, I couldn’t help myself from whispering in her ear, “Regina, I’m in love with you.” But she heard it in the context of the game, not real life, because she quietly responded, “I’m in love with you too, Mistress.”
Acting as a responsible Mistress, I needed to know how painful these switches would be against the flesh. It wouldn’t be cool to start blasting Regina with multiple blows without knowing what harm could be done and the severity of the blow each switch would yield.
I gave her a rather unconventional order. I reached in my purse and pulled out some handcuffs, which I held up for her. “You need to handcuff me to the piano leg so that I’m bent over, then pull up my skirt and give me three solid blows with each stick on opposite cheeks. I need to gauge the severity of the blows each stick delivers, do you understand?” “Yes, Mistress,” she quickly answered, “May I have the freedom to warm you up a bit once you are handcuffed so that you will be in the right frame of mind for the test?”
Thinking about it, this seems pretty important because the pain threshold in a sexually-charged scene is much higher than in a cold real-world situation. So I let her know, “Yes. You may prepare me as you wish, but for no more than 15 minutes; you are not permitted to touch my pussy.” “Yes, Mistress,” she replied sincerely.
She took the handcuffs and locked my wrists around the bottom of the piano leg, causing my ass to be high. Then she quietly disappeared. It felt strange to be alone and in a submissive position. I felt vulnerable because I was the one who was supposed to be in charge. I never gave her permission to leave me alone and restrained. What was she up to? How dare she leave me.
Just as I was thinking about how insubordinate she was, she reappeared wearing her leather opera gloves that go all the way to her shoulders. “Sorry, for leaving you, dear Mistress. I thought you would enjoy being caressed by the leather of my gloves.
In fact, she was right. I got a great glimpse of her loveliness in the gloves, which had the immediate effect of getting my juices flowing. She looked super sexy!
She raised my skirt over my back and slid my panties off. Using two fingers, she delicately traced circular patterns all over my butt, letting her hands glide over every contour of my behind with a touch so light that her leather-clad fingers felt dandelion fuzz.
She removed her thick collar and strapped it very firmly around my neck. I felt owned and objectified. She disappeared once more and, about thirty seconds later, returned with a roll of duct tape. Knowing that she only had me for 15 minutes, she quickly tied my ankles together very tightly over the boots with the tape. She ripped off another length and put it over my mouth. This slave had some balls to be so aggressive with me, pushing her luck for when the tables would be turned again.
With her left hand, she began fondling my
breasts, which were hanging straight down as a result of my bent over position. With her right hand, she grabbed the heavy stick that was an inch in diameter. BLAM! She hit me really fucking hard. It produced a deep ache that felt like a punch from a fist. BLAM! I screamed against the duct tape. BLAM! Another one. This stick was really painful. But I was encouraged to know that I had just one more blow to go. I think it hurts less when a finite number of blows are expected. Real torture would be to not to know how long one would have to endure such punishment. BLAM! Ouch!!! Damn that is hard!
She continued rubbing my breasts for a bit, using her other hand to rub out the pain from my left cheek.
All of the sudden, her gloved hand stopped the gentle caress of my breasts and turned to a more violent and sudden action of pinching my nose closed so that I couldn’t breathe. The duct tape on my mouth was very secure and there was no air at all! It had the effect of immediately heightening the stakes, both sexually and adrenaline-wise.
She took the longer switch and tickled my butt by running it gently along my right cheek. The anticipation was palpable as I was waiting for gentle strokes to turn violent. I was getting near the end of my oxygen and I desperately needed to breathe! Then, in a split second, my ass was on fire! She whipped me 3 times very hard in the course of about a second. When the whipping stopped, my ass burned in a way that felt naughty and sexy. She released my nose and I struggled to catch my breath. Sensing that I was not getting enough air, she yanked off the duct tape from my mouth, “Ouch!”
Both sticks had their appeal, but the stinging one was more to my personal taste. The aching one seemed dangerous and dark. There’s a place for that too.
As she was soothing my ass with the soft caress of her gloved fingers, I started to softly cry, which wasn’t in character for me and I don’t know what was going on. It felt like “happy tears” but it was mixed up with lots of different feelings of pain, inadequacy, and longing for cuddling. But honestly, I think the source was pain.
Owning Regina: Diary of my unxpected passion for another woman Page 22
