I’m writing this as You have instructed me to do, in longhand on a legal pad. I am in my office on the morning after You took me as Your possession.
I’m dressed as You ordered, Sir. I really do resemble “a sexless librarian” - except for the fact that I’m writing this on all fours behind my desk, with my skirt up over my hips and my pantyhose halfway down my thighs. My head is down, my ass is in the air and the panties You so graciously inscribed for me are on full display, as You ordered.
I will continue writing in this manner, whenever I don’t have to meet with a client here, until I have completed Your assignment, Sir. I couldn’t write on my desk anyway, Sir, with that marker standing up in the middle of it. I won’t move it until You tell me to do so, Sir.
And Sir, I won’t forget Your other instructions: I will call You from the bathroom during each and every client meeting in the manner You have ordered me to. (And if You don’t mind my saying so, Sir: I’m really looking forward to it.)
As you instructed, Sir, I will attempt to describe everything that happened between us from the time we left this office last night until now.
And Sir, although it’s my duty and pleasure to perform this task for You, it is my hope that if you are pleased with my performance You will be kind enough to consider a small request, but one which has now become my dearest wish.
I wish I could describe all of the emotions that were roiling through me after You pulled my office door shut behind us and we made our way down the hall to the elevator. I know that I was terrified: this was the building where I worked, after all. What if someone else on that floor was working late and chose that moment to step out into the hall? What if he (or she, or they!) were to see me, the respectable lawyer, on her hands and knees at the end of a belt-leash, burdened like a pack-mule and wearing nothing but a pair of soaking wet panties marked with the words, “Disobedient Little Slut”?
Yes, I was terrified. But I found that I was also, to my shame, becoming aroused again, even though I’d come only minutes ago, at the very thought of being discovered like that, and I knew that it was because You were the one holding the leash, Sir.
And of course I was still so deeply confused about everything that was happening. I wanted to look up at You then, Sir, just wanted to look into your eyes for a moment so that I could feel safe again. But I didn’t dare lift or turn my head because I was concentrating so hard on keeping the pile of clothing stable on my back as we made our way down the hall to the elevator. I wanted so very much to please You and make You proud of me, Sir. Thank You for not hurrying, Sir, and allowing me to lift and lower my hands and legs carefully as we walked.
I cannot describe the exquisite feeling of the leash that connected me with You, Sir, and reminded me at every step that I was in Your care.
By the time we reached the elevator I nearly forgot to worry about whether someone might be inside when the door slid open. I was lost in the awareness of so many sensations: the rough weave of the rug beneath my hands and knees and the tips of my toes; the chill breeze from the air conditioning on my sweat-soaked skin; my breasts swaying beneath me as I crawled, the nipples hardened until they felt like pencil points; the clamminess of my panties as they clung to me; and oh, Sir, my pussy, so swollen and wet and wanting You!
I didn’t dare to look up at You as we waited for the elevator, afraid that I would lose all control and beg you to take me right there – just kneel down behind me, yank the crotch of my panties aside and fuck me like an animal, not stopping even if the elevator should have a crowd of people inside when it opened.
Perhaps You sensed something of what I was feeling, Sir, because you reached down and stroked my hair for a moment. This might have calmed me down somewhat, but then you patted me on the head before withdrawing your hand. Patted me on the head like a dog, Sir, and I had to bite my lip very hard to keep from moaning aloud at the wave of shameful pleasure that rushed through me.
It seemed that with every passing second I was becoming less and less of an individual, or even a person. I was no longer Nadine. I was simply…Yours.
The elevator finally arrived – empty, of course – and You led me in, carefully bringing me around to face the front. I had a moment of panic when the elevator lurched into motion, nearly dislodging some of the items from my back. I had to quickly spread my arms and legs wide to steady myself, and fortunately nothing fell. I remained braced like that until the elevator came to a complete halt.
I looked up at You then, Sir, and felt so proud when You nodded Your approval. And I have no words to describe how much the words, “Good girl,” coming from Your lips, meant (and mean) to me, even for so small an accomplishment. But I’m sure You could read my joy from the radiant smile that lit up my face.
It felt as though a much heavier burden had been removed when You lifted the bundles from my back and tucked them under Your arm as You led me out of the elevator. The main lights in the lobby had been turned off, leaving only the dim glow of a few recessed bulbs in the ceiling, as You led me along the hall towards the rear door, stopping only to pluck a plastic grocery bag from a trash bin and placing in it my clothing and purse. (I say ‘my’ clothing and purse, Sir, but by then I no longer felt as though they – or anything else – truly belonged to me. I would be clothed or naked only as You chose, Sir.)
I must admit, Sir, that when we reached the door I was relieved that You stopped for a moment. Crawling around on a leash in an empty building was one thing, but the prospect of continuing on outside, where I could be seen by literally anyone, was extremely daunting.
When You tugged upward on Your belt, indicating that I should stand, I obeyed quickly, though, I must admit, with a certain reluctance. It was astonishing – and deeply humiliating - to realize how quickly I’d grown comfortable with following you around on all fours. Still, it made me happy to be able to stand close to you again and look directly into your face.
I was puzzled at first when you rummaged around in the bag containing the clothing and then held up my shoes. It took me a moment to realize that you were offering them to me - and why:
We were about to leave the building.
I could see in Your eyes that this was a test of my commitment – whether this was literally a threshold that I would be unable to cross. And I freely admit that I was terrified, Sir. But as I stood looking into Your eyes I gradually realized that within myself I felt safe, somehow. Protected. That I was in Your care, Sir.
And I knew that I wanted to fully experience this newly discovered side of myself, regardless of the consequences. And more important, make You proud of me, Sir.
I will always treasure the memory of the look on Your face when I took the shoes out of your hand, gently deposited them back in the shopping bag and then leaned past You, never removing my gaze from Yours for even a second, to open the door wide and hold it for You.
…Waiting for You to lead me out of the building and into the night.