"Do you deserve to be punished?"
Tracy felt silly; why was he making her say it? She had had some vague notion that he would bluster with pretend rage and tell her she needed a whipping for being such a slut. This quiet interrogation was unnerving her.
"I asked you a question, Tracy. Do you deserve to be punished for your complete lack of control? For your obvious indifference to my express direction that you pull up your panties and cover your hot little wet cunt and go to work like a good girl? Do you deserve to have your ass bared so I can spank it till it's cherry red, till you're crying for me to stop?"
Ah, this was more like it! Grinning, Tracy typed back, "Yes, sir, I deserve that."
A pause and then, "Well, I disagree."
What? She wasn't following him at all. He explained, and her face burned as she read the words. "You want a game, Tracy. You want your 'stern master' to order you to do stuff, so you can refuse and get pretend punishments, which of course aren't really punishments at all, but a way of getting yourself off. You want to use me to get yourself off, don't you, little slut?"
God, he was right. That was exactly what she had been fishing for. Maybe itwas all just a game to her? How would she ever know, ever get to find out if it was more? She was chagrined, and a little ashamed, because they had so much more than that. If only they could talk on the phone, she could apologize. He could hear in her voice that she meant it.
"If only I could talk to you right now."
"Call me."
"I can't. He's here."
"You need something at the store. You forgot. You'll be right back."
"Weare low on milk," she responded, her mind churning, thinking how to phrase it best to convince Kyle she should run out without arousing any suspicion. He was clacking away at his keyboard. "But are you still at work? It's 8:00 in New York."
"Where else do I have to be?" he answered. "I have a big project, actually, that I'm supposed to be working on, but instead I seem to find myself always online typing to some little slut girl." He typed a little happy face, to indicate he was teasing.
"Ok," she answered. "If I can do this, I'll call you in about ten minutes. If I don't call, get back online and I'll be here."
"It's a deal."
Tracy logged off and went up behind Kyle, feeling like a heel, but wanting to talk to Paul too much to care. "Hey, honey, I forgot we need milk and a few other things at the store. I think I'll go now, when it won't be crowded. Want to come?" A risk, but it made it more plausible.
"What?" Kyle distractedly responded, quickly minimizing whatever he was typing. "Oh, no, no. That's fine. You go on ahead. Just don't be too long, ok?"
Tracy smiled to herself, and grabbed the keys, then drove to the corner convenience store and hurried to the payphone. She dialed the 800 number that was already committed to memory, She glanced about nervously, waiting for his phone to ring and his sweet voice to be on the other end.
"Paul Wilson."
"Hi," she said, feeling shy as she always did when they first spoke to each other.
"Hi, Tracy. I'm glad you could get away."
"Yeah, but I don't have long, you know. I wanted to say, well, I wanted to apologize."
"I know. It's over, anyway. It's forgotten. You were right you know; you do deserve to be punished. If you were mine; if you were with me now, you'd be punished. You know what I'd like to do?"
"What?" Tracy whispered, feeling her whole body respond to him.
"Well, first I'd start by chaining you to the headboard. Your head would be facing the headboard, and you would be on your knees, wrists chained up high. I would spank your naughty little ass for a while till it was good and red. Then I'd shove a dildo up your pussy and tell you that it better not fall out while I continued to spank you. If it did fall out, I'd have to shove it up your ass."
Tracy started, not sure she liked how the fantasy was going. But he continued, "When I got tired of that, I'd get underneath you and tongue your little cunt until you were insane with desire. I'd bring you to the edge over and over, until you were practically crying with the need to come.
"But I wouldn't let you. I'd leave you chained and on fire while I watched TV or read next to you for a while. If I felt like it, I might eventually let you down so you could sleep at my feet. Of course I'd cuff you for the night so your naughty fingers wouldn't 'accidentally' find their way to your hot little pussy."
He sighed a little, then said, "But of course, you're not up here, and you're not mine, so that won't be happening."
Tracy suppressed her own sigh as he continued. "But I can give you a taste of it, even from 2,000 miles, if you want it, Tracy. Do you want it?"
"Yes," she breathed, her nipples hardening against her light t-shirt.
"You're too special to me for this to be just a game, Tracy. Do you think you're ready to move to the next level? Because it involves some level of commitment, on both our parts. It is going to affect you emotionally; take you away from your husband in that regard. That isn't something you want to do lightly. Don't even answer now. We'll talk about it some more online tomorrow.
"But for tonight, just for tonight, I will give you a little punishment. When you get back home, go into the bathroom and strip. Examine yourself in the mirror. Touch your nipples, cup your pussy, feel its sweet heat. Think about me, and what I would do to you if I owned you. Touch yourself. Arouse yourself. Make yourself hot and needy. And then, this time, really stop. Really experience what it is to be on fire for me.
"Then I want you to kneel down, and whisper to me, 'Paul, these are your breasts. This is your body; this is your cunt. I exist to serve you, Paul. I am your slave.' Say those exact words, and feel once more how hot and wet you are. Then get up, put on your nightclothes, and go read a book or something. If Kyle wants to fuck you, let him, but don't you dare come. You don't have permission to come until I tell you to. Understand?"
"Yes," Tracy whispered, her body already tingling with anticipation.
"Now go buy your milk. I'm gonna try and get some work done, so I won't be online anymore tonight. I'll talk to you tomorrow. 'Night, sweetheart."
The next morning, early, Tracy found this email in her mailbox. "Hi slave girl. Since we've decided to take this new step together, I'm going to begin a little training with you. Even online and on the phone, you can begin to experience what it is to submit. I want to teach you about control, and loss of it. I want to teach you to submit with grace, obeying without hesitation, no matter how much it might 'embarrass' or humiliate you. I want to teach you how to let go, sexually and on a deeper level, so that you can truly give of yourself without a hidden agenda of what you can 'get' out of it.
"I guess what I really want to do is help you decide if you are truly submissive, or just a masochistic slut girl out to get herself off with a little pretend dominance and little pretend pain. (Which doesn't make you a bad person! I've known many a sexy masochistic slut girl. Just be clear it's very different from being truly submissive.)
"If we were together, physically, we could find out rather quickly. You could experience my lash, my whip, my crop, and really understand what it is to suffer. You could feel the bite of my nipple clamps on your breasts, the cut of the cane against tender thighs.
"It would become quickly clear if you were just into experiencing the heady mixture of pleasure and pain, or if you truly were willing to accept the responsibility of belonging to someone else – because it is responsibility, and a willingness to trust in your lover. To give yourself so completely to me that if I took a knife and held it to your spread open pussy, you would keep it spread for me, and wait for whatever I chose to do to you.