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Subject: (ASSM) RP: SoulMates Part 4 of 19 (Romance, FemDom, F/m)
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SoulMates Part Four:  First Times
by Tigger
Copyright 1997, All Rights Reserved

Chapter 7:     Appetizers:  Cold Tongue and Hot Rump.

Dried semen does not wash out of lace. At least, dried semen did
not wash out of that specific pair of lace panties. I washed them
three times in accordance with the directions on the box of
"dainty washables detergent", to no avail. Then I tried washing
them by hand. They were permanently stained. Not only that, by
the time I had reached that conclusion, they had also
disintegrated. I tried to decide what to do. That this "little
failure" would be used as an impetus for whatever she had planned
for Friday night was a given. It was like reading some of the
setups in the books she had given me. It would not surprise me at
all if she knew this would be the outcome and had set up the
little session today for that very purpose, the devious little
witch.

It became something of a matter of pride to me to have at least a
bit of one-up on her over this. The more I had studied the books
she had given me, the more I saw D/S in the same light as Plebe
Summer and Plebe Year at the Academy. Essentially an artificially
imposed set of games and rituals that, although they supposedly
had a noble purpose, could quickly degrade to something cruel and
hurtful in the hands of humans. I decided to use what I had
learned at the Naval Academy to deal with this situation. In this
case, the Honor Code came to mind. It would do very nicely.

On arrival at work, I checked Monique's calendar and found that
she was free just before lunch. I penciled myself into the time
slot so that Roselie would not fill it with someone else. 

About mid morning, I made a quick trip to the local stores, and
returned in time for my appointment with Monique. I knocked and
entered her office. She gave me a curious look when I walked in.
"Yes, Nathan, what is it?  You don't usually set an appointment." 
I handed her a note that I had carefully hand written on
parchment stationary, then put into and envelope. The envelope
was addressed to Mistress Monique.

She opened it, read the one line missive ("nathan humbly requests
a few moments of the Mistress Monique's time.") and set it to one
side to look at me thoughtfully. Standing at attention, I still
kept my eyes one her lovely face. Curiosity fired green
highlights in her hazel eyes. Curiosity, and something else;
something that made her look sad. Finally, she reached over to
activate the door looks.

She remained quiet for a very long time. Then, she said. "Mr.
Evans, what is it you wish to say to me?"  She seemed to be
preparing herself for unpleasant news.

"Yes, Mistress. It is the custom of my former occupation to admit
failures immediately so that they can be handled as simply and as
quickly as possible. There is also the Code of Honor, which
demands that any offense be reported, regardless of the cost to
one's self."  She looked thoroughly confused. I handed her a
second envelope, which she opened, looked into and then spilled
onto her desk. She frowned at the contents, then looked at me
oddly.

"Mistress,"  I began, as fraying black fragments of cloth floated
to her desk. "I was unable to clean your panties. When I tried to
remove the stains from the seams, it finally fell apart."

She considered the slips of gauzy cloth on her desk. "Why bring
them to me, now, Mr. Evans. I would have found out when you did
not have them tonight, or you could have shopped and bought an
identical or very similar pair. I might never have known."

Oh, you would have known, I thought, somehow, you would have
known. "No, Mistress, my integrity is not something I will play
games with. I held on to my self respect this long in my life, I
won't surrender it now."

Her face was alight with what I chose to interpret as puzzlement
and surprise. Whatever she expected, it was not that I would play
plebe and confess early. "What is it that you expect me to do
with this, Mr. Evans?"

I would have shrugged if I had not been standing at attention. "I
frankly do not know, Mistress Monique. As you know, I am a novice
at this. It has been my experience, however, that more trouble
comes from trying to hide problems, than from facing them
directly, and getting on with it."

"And,"  her voice was somewhat sardonic, now, "therefore, I can
expect this type of 'problem facing' in the future, Mr. Evans?"

"Mistress, I am a man first, and I am the man that I was before I
agreed to this... experiment in submission. I choose to face
problems directly and openly. That" and I nodded towards the pile
of scrap fabric on her desk, "is a problem."

She said and did very little for what felt like a very long time.
Then she gave a rueful smile and shook her head. The doors
unlocked. "Very well, Mr. Evans, that will be all, thank you."

I did not know if I had accomplished anything positive or not. I
guessed that I would find out that night.

I already had her home address and phone number. As her
assistant, I needed to reach her at any hour of the day or night,
just as she needed to be able to reach me. Detailed directions
arrived when Roselie filled my in-basket, later that afternoon.
Monique's personal cream-toned stationary caught stood out
starkly against the stack of white paper and brown intra-office
envelopes. Inside was a hand drawn map and orders to be at her
door precisely at seven pm.

Her home was in the exclusive and expensive Great Falls area of
Northern Virginia. An area of huge houses, large wooded lots and
developments built with privacy in mind, only the very well off
can afford to live there. I pulled off the Washington Beltway at
the last exit prior to the American Legion Cabin John Bridge that
would have taken me into Maryland, and headed towards Great Falls
National Park on Old Georgetown Road. I was intentionally early,
and drove past her driveway and went down to a small shopping
plaza on a side road and parked. Pulling out my rechargeable
razor, I shaved off the day's growth of beard.

I tried to rationalize what I was about to do. No matter how many
ways I looked on the evening ahead, the most optimistic scenario
for me was that it was an means to the end I desired. Was I
excited?  I was anxious, uncertain, maybe even a little afraid.
It really did not matter that everything I had learned pointed
toward my safety. I had never done anything like this before. My
ego, my self image, my pride were being presented on a platter to
this woman for her to toy with.

The crux of my problem was that, to me at least, our goals for
this evening were so different. Hell, I was not sure I even knew 
her goals and motivations for this evening. Was this really a
"compatibility test", an attempt on her part to ensure that I
would and could satisfy basic needs of hers?  Or was it an
attempt to run me off, to discourage me. No answers presented
themselves. I looked at my car clock. 6:45pm. It was time.
I drove back to the entry to her driveway. The paved access was
cut out of densely wooded forest, and wound along so that I soon
lost sight of the road. 

Her home brought me up short. It was huge. The house was a square
Victorian style house with a gabled roof, and a circular drive to
the front door. Four or five of houses like my own home would
easily fit within the dimensions of that mansion. A multicar
garage was off to one side of the drive, shaped like a carriage
house. I knew Monique was very well-to-do, executives at our
company were very well paid, but this place bespoke wealth that I
was totally unprepared for. I parked my car in front, as directed
in her note, and making one last check of my appearance, I
climbed the brick steps to her door. One last look at my watch,
6:58. Taking one last, deep cleansing breath, I rang the bell.

Monique herself answered the door, somewhat to my surprise. An
austere British butler in white tie and tails would not have
seemed out of place. "Nathan, on time as always. Come in,
please."  I followed her into the house and gave her the brightly
wrapped parcel that held one of my purchases earlier in the day.
Her eyebrows rose suggestively. "For me?"

God, I was no good at this at all. "A hostess gift, Monique, in
gratitude for the dinner invitation."

A dangerously red fingernail rose to equally vermillion lips in a
very provocative move. "Now, how should I take this?  I wonder if
it might be construed as a bribe?"  Her tone was coquettish,
teasing, and it grated on my already tight nerves.

"Give me some credit for some intelligence, Monique. It is
nothing of the kind!"  I snapped. Monique took a step backwards
at my vehemence. "It is what I said it was. I already know that
there is nothing that I can or will do that will change any
aspect of whatever games you have planned tonight in my favor." 
I took a deep cleansing breath. "I told you I was going to pay
court to you. That gift is part of courting. If you fear for one
little moment that it might unduly soften you or inhibit you in
some small way, then don't open it until after I leave."

Her gaze was calm as she regarded me trying to regain my control.
She set the gift aside on a small table on the foyer. "I see." 
Her voice was no longer teasing or gay. "Well, then we will leave
it here and you can give it to me later, if you are still
inclined. Please follow me, Nathan."  She turned to lead me down
the hall toward a lit room on the west side of the house. 

Monique was wearing a ankle length caftan made of blue velvet. It
was then that I realized that she was easily as tall as me. A
quick perusal of her revealed the cause of that anomaly:  high
heeled, stiletto shoes. Her makeup was more vivid, more dramatic
than I had ever seen it before. Her hair was in a shaggy ponytail
down her back, the auburn of her hair strikingly dissident with
the rich blue of her caftan.

The room she brought me into was a den, with huge glass windows
making up most of the western wall. A brilliant spring sunset
colored the evening sky and provided what little light was
needed. She offered me a seat in a conversation couch facing
Nature's light show. "Nathan, we are going to talk before we do
anything else tonight. Would you like something to drink?"

I turned in my seat to see her standing by a wet bar on the other
side of the room. "Some soda water with a twist of lemon or lime,
if you have it, please?"  She mixed two of those and glided back
to the conversation pit. She handed me the drink, then sat down
across from me.

"You are still not into this, are you, Nathan?  None of the
anticipation or teasing have made it any more appealing to you." 
her voice and her smile was rueful. I shook my head. "I can't
reassure you, Nathan. This is the beginning. By your choice, it
may also be the ending, but the route to being my mate goes
through my dungeons and my darker fantasies. If you want the
softer times, the gentler times, you will have to give me the
other times I need; you will have to give me this."

"I told you that I had to try, Monique, and I will try."  

She raised her glass to me and smiled. "Very well. As much as I
would like to have you on the edge of anticipation for the entire
evening, that might be too much for a first time. Besides, I want
you to do justice to my wonderful dinner, and I don't want you
losing it all over my carpeting. We will see to your punishment
and training first. Tonight will be a go-no go test, Nathan. At
any point during the scene, you have but to stand up, dress and
walk out the door. You will not be bound in any way, except by
your own will in adherence to my will. Otherwise, the scene will
end when I speak your safeword, followed by your first name. Do
you understand, Nathan?"

"Yes, Mistress Monique, I understand. I will do my best."

She smiled slightly and stood to take my glass. "I am sure you
will, Nathan. Mr. Evans, Present Yourself."  The formal command
to start the scene. I stood, and came to attention. "Mr. Evans, I
want you to prepare yourself. Go to that corner, and remove your
jacket and all your clothing below your waist. Fold your clothes
neatly and then stand with your nose in the corner, touching both
walls. Do not move until you are told to."  Before I could
answer, she had spun on those incredible heels and had left the
room.

Chapter 8:     Breaking His Maiden I

I had never realized how incredibly alone you can feel standing
alone and nude, or almost nude, in an otherwise empty room. The
corner she had placed me in was directly opposite the windows on
the western wall. I knew that the house was isolated, that there
was no one except Monique to see my bare ass, and I was there
because I WANTED Monique to see my bare ass. And knowing all
that, wanting all that, I still felt exposed, embarrassed and
vulnerable. 

New, yet oddly familiar stimuli washed over me, overwhelmed me.
The smell of paint irritated my sinuses as my nose pinched into
the corner. My ears strained for sound, and picked up nothing but
my own heart beating and my lungs breathing. Deprived of light by
their proximity to the walls, my mind's eye created its own
color. Swirling and flashing, psychedelic patterns formed and
grew, making me feel faintly nauseous. Faintly sour flavors
filled my mouth, making me grimace and swallow to clear my mouth.
Air moving from an air conditioning vent snaked past my
perspiring buttocks, causing goose pimples to pop up and chills
to shiver up my back. I fought for control, for calm, trying to
trust this woman I wanted to spend my life with.

Time began to lose meaning. I seemed to retreat into my mind,
trying to ignore the physical discomfort of my legs and my face.
I was again reminded of being at the Academy, standing at
attention in ranks, waiting for the inspecting officer to make
his grand entrance (always late it seemed) and pronounce
judgement on hours of preparation.

A line of white fire sketched down my back snapped me back to
reality. The sudden change in sensation was nearly agony to my
stimulus deprived senses. Only 24 years of discipline kept me
from breaking position as every muscle in my body went rigid.
Dimly, I realized that she had returned and run a single finger
nail lightly down my shirt covered spine;  a single, blood red
finger nail. My back muscles twitched uncontrollably as after
shocks ran up and down my torso.

"Hello, Mr. Evans. I am back."  Her voice was a sweet, whispering
rasp, her breath was minty as it displaced the chemical odor of
the painted walls. "I am impressed, little man. You did not add
to your already impressive list of misdemeanors by moving without
permission. Now, Mr. Evans, please raise your hands and lock them
together above your head. Reach as high as you can."  Her hand
moved under my shirt to run sharp pointed nails up and down my
taut rib cage. I fought with my entire will to maintain her
ordered position against the tortuous tickling. Tears formed from
repressed laughter and from the strain of holding rebellious
limbs in place against the tormenting stimuli. She backed away
just before I broke totally.

"Very impressive, Mr. Evans. I begin to think you will provide me
the challenge I need to grow. Lower your arms back to your side,
then slowly turn to face me. I want to see the body I am about to
punish."

The relief of lowering my arms was incredible. I paused for a
moment, regaining my composure, then turned about. When I came to
face her, I literally gaped in amazement. What I expected, I
don't know, but what I saw was not it. She was the most
incredibly outlandish, sexiest woman I had ever seen.

Gone was the caftan. In its place were black leather jodhpurs.
The calf high cuffs of the trousers were complemented by sheer
black stockings with sequined trim and those incredible spiked
heels.  A black satin top, tightly formfitting, with a low cut
neckline presented her lovely breasts to perfection. Black satin
sleeves, skin tight and running the full length of her arms ,
connected to the top at her armpit, but leaving her shoulders
beautifully bare. A one inch wide collar of black velvet with an
antique cameo attached, emphasized the slim elegance of her neck.
Her hair and cosmetics seemed the same as before, yet different.
She seemed harder, colder now. Probably because she was those
things now. 

I shook my head, trying to understand when a stinging sensation
across my chest brought my attention back to her right hand,
where a black crop stood ready to strike again.

"That impertinence just added to the penance you owe me this
evening, Mr. Evans. I am not here for your entertainment. I am
your Mistress and you will not look at me in such an insolent
manner again, sir. And you were doing so well, too. How
disappointing."  She did not SOUND disappointed. The crop reached
out and lifted my cock with its rigid tip. "Oh my, what have we
here?  Are we finally getting excited, Mr. Evans?  Your little
boy tool seems to be."

I was nonplused to realize that I was becoming erect. Every sense
was focused on her. I was aware of her, submerged in her to my
most basic level. This was the woman I loved and I was here for
her to hurt me, but still the essential sensuality of being with
her, one on one, was affecting me, exciting me. Every critical
square inch of her body was covered, and I could not have been
more turned on by her appearance if she had been decked out in
gauze and see through silk.

She reached over and gripped me at the root of my cock.
Experienced fingers teased at me, making me harder in spite of my
resolve not to let this happen. Involuntary shudders started in
the pit of my stomach as she continued her gentle, thorough
possession of my manhood. My eyes shuttered closed, half in
pleasure, half in concentration to control my response to the
delicious feelings she was evoking.

Eye crossing pain snapped my lids open, and started my knees to
crumple. Her point of attack had shifted in an instant from my
penis to my scrotum, gripping my testicles and squeezing with
considerable force. I was paralyzed by the sudden, unexpected
pain, but I fought to remain standing. Her grip relented to a
firm, but not painful grip, permitting me to stay upright. She
moved up close, her face in mine. "I did not say you could get
hard, Mr. Evans. Here, while you are presenting yourself to me,
that belongs to me. I say when it can be hard. I say when it can
cum. If it disobeys, or acts without permission, you, its bearer,
will be punished for misuse of what belongs to me. This."  She
pulled down sharply on my scrotum, bringing me to my knees and
following me down, but still holding my balls gently. "is only a
sample. I have much more interesting things I can do to a
disobedient cock, Mr. Evans. Do you understand?"  She punctuated
each syllable with a pinching squeeze.

"Yes, Mistress."  The words came out on a inhalation of pain.
"I.... understand."  Instantly, the grip was gone and she was
standing above me. I took stock of my condition. Although I was
still intensely aware of my balls, I was not really in pain
anymore. She had used the minimum force to make her point.
Grimly, I tried to stand, but was stopped by a sharp heel on my
shoulder. 

"No, stay there, Mr. Evans. We have some things to deal with
before we go any further. From now on, you will keep your eyes to
the floor unless otherwise directed when you are with Mistress
Monique. I do not want a repeat of such an insolent inspection of
my person by a slave. Secondly, we need a greeting for you to
honor me with. Normally, I insist that my slaves kiss the toes of
my proffered shoe, however, I like the way you kissed my hand
earlier. From now on, sir, at the beginning and end of a session,
you will beg permission to pay me homage. When granted, you will
kiss my left hand. I will expect you to demonstrate your desire
to please me in that kiss, Mr. Evans. Hold nothing back. Show me
how much you value me. Do you understand these orders?"

I swallowed around a huge blockage in my throat. "Yes, Mistress.
I understand."  I took another deep breath. "Mistress, may I
please pay you your due homage?"

"Very good, Mr. Evans. I wondered if you would catch that. An
intelligent, attentive slave is such a joy to train. Yes, you
may."

Gently, reverently, I took her hand and raised it to my lips. I
fueled that kiss with my dreams for long nights of love, of days
filled with laughter and of years warmed by companionship and
shared happiness. She seemed reluctant to withdraw her hand when
I ended the caress. Was it my imagination she seemed to swallow
hard before telling me that was adequate for a first effort, but
that she expected regular and continued improvement in my
veneration of her person.

She swirled away and planted herself in a chair that was
conveniently just across from me in the room. I had not noticed
that 'throne' in my early explorations of the room.  Now, that
purpose was obvious. "Look up at me, Mr. Evans."  She was seated
in a languorous position, legs crossed, her arms resting on the
arm rests with the crop dangling from its wrist strap. God, she
was erotically beautiful. I hoped to high heaven she wanted me
hard, because there was no way, short of orgasm or castration,
that I was going to soft any time soon.
"Mr. Evans. You have transgressions to pay for this evening.
First, is your failure to call me by my honorific on Tuesday.
That is five demerits. The second is the wanton destruction of
property that I had put in your keeping for cleaning. That is 20
demerits. The third is your insolent perusal of my person. 25
demerits. And finally, you have achieved and maintained an
erection without permission. 50 demerits. That is a total of 100
demerits. A not insignificant total, sir, and one you would be
wise not to repeat. Since this is, shall we say, your maiden
voyage, I am inclined to be lenient. Twenty five demerits will be
expunged by a hand spanking, one stroke per demerit. The
remaining demerits will be paid out in one stroke of my hairbrush
per three demerits, or another twenty five strokes.

She stood and walked over to me. Her hands came down around to
loosen my tie, and then slip it around so that the tail was held
in her hand like a leash. "Heel, Mr. Evans."  She jerked lightly
on my tie and started walking back to the conversation grouping.
She had me get up and bend over the back of the plush,
overstuffed couch. I had to stand on tiptoe to bend over the
thick cushions. My head felt incredibly heavy hanging below my
body, unsupported by anything but my neck.

I held the position, waiting for the pain to start, fighting to
hold my composure. Nothing happened. I stiffened in shock when
she sat on the couch beside me. She rested my head in her lap and
gently caressed my tightly wound buttocks. Her voice whispered to
me. "You are doing fine, dear. Try to relax. Let yourself feel
what comes next without prejudice. Look beyond the immediacy of
the pain for the strength within you. Meet me halfway here,
darling. Find the pleasure that grows in the fertile heat of the
pain."  With that, she bent down to kiss me on my cheek, and then
left my line of vision.

The warmth of her hand rested on my right ass cheek. She was
petting me, soothing me. "Mr. Evans. I expect you to challenge
your punishment. Do not try and hide from the strokes. I will not
permit it. Lift yourself to me for each strike. If you do not, I
will order you to "present", indicating that you are not in
position. More than one order to present per stroke adds two
strokes of that implement to your total. Do you understand?"

God, what was there to understand?  "Yes, Mistress, I
understand."

"Very well, Sir. I will remind you one last time. This is a go-
no go test. You may leave at any time, and the test ends, as will
our relationship. Mr. Evans, you are sentenced to twenty five
strokes of the hand on the buttocks and upper thighs. You will
receive four strokes to the buttocks, then one to each of your
thighs for the twenty four. The last stroke is a wild card and
will be delivered where I want it without warning. Present, Mr.
Evans."  

I rose hard up onto the tips of my toes and was met with an
explosion of sound, followed by a burning sting to my right
cheek. I managed to hold position through the first sixteen, but
the seventeenth, a strong blow to my right thigh broke my
concentration and I slipped. I fought back onto my toes as the
second stroke to my thighs, this one to my left exploded and made
me yell for the first time. How could her hand be so small and be
so hard?  I took the next four to my ass, and was waiting for the
next stroke to fall on my right thigh when fire exploded in my
left thigh. I again fell off my toes and had to come back up to
meet her. Tears were gathering in my eyes, as much from the
strain of holding the rigid position as from the burning fire
growing in my backside. Two blows, in rapid succession, exploded
on my right thigh, and I collapsed again, yelling in pain this
time.

A cool hand reached down to caress my cheek. That HAD to be her
non-spanking hand. "Halfway there, Mr. Evans. You are doing well.
I have done nothing to prepare you for this, to build up your
resistance to this, and you are still taking a very severe
spanking well. Only twenty five more to go, Mr. Evans. Come,
honor me with your perseverance. Give me your determination to
share my life. 

"Mr. Evans, you are sentenced to twenty five strokes of the hair
brush on the buttocks and upper thighs. You will receive four
strokes to the buttocks, then one to each of your thighs for the
twenty four. The last stroke is a wild card and will be delivered
where I want it without warning. Present, Mr. Evans."

I closed my mind to everything but surviving the next few
minutes. I focused on the goal, and I focused on the test.
Breathing deeply to clear my head, I rose up on tiptoe, and
screamed into the leather of the couch. Nothing had prepared me
for the unrelenting overload of that stroke. By the fourth blow,
I was crying freely. Each stroke to the thighs broke me, making
me scream in pain. She had to order me to present after each of
the thigh strikes after the sixteenth. Failure to respond to the
first order to present after the next to the last thigh stroke
earned two more to my total. Inwardly I cringed. How could I ever
hold out if she applied all four remaining strokes to the same
thigh. I was unable to answer, except to say that the alternative
was unacceptable. 

I closed my mind, tried to hide in some deep dark place, and rose
to present for the last four strokes. They came in such rapid
succession, that I hardly had time to register the first to my
right thigh before the fourth had struck.

She did not strike the same spot. In fact, the last strokes,
after the two mandatory thigh strokes rotated between my ass
cheeks. Tears were running freely, wetting the fine leather. I
was sweating like a pig. I was shivering uncontrollably. 

I was also, to my utter amazement, as hard as I could ever
remember being. Her hand encircled my rigid member while her
other gently manipulated my balls and teased a thumb at my anus.
"I want you hard, Mr. Evans, yesssss, that's it. good boy."  Her
whisper was as erotic as her teasing manipulation. Spasms, deep
in my gut, pulled at my groin, pulled at my cock. She felt it and
sped up her fondling. "Yes! that's it.. come for me, Mr. Evans,
Come for your Mistress. Thank me for my loving correction by
showing me how much it excited you to serve me and to submit to
me."  

All thought ended as I emptied my soul into her hand, and down
the back of her sofa. I thrust into her hand, against the soft
resistance of the sofa, orgasming harder than I could remember in
a very long time. 

I may have passed out, because my next memory is of soft hands
and a cool glass caressing my cheeks and forehead. The hands
helped steady me as I stood for the first time in what felt like
hours. "Mr. Evans. I am going to leave you now. I want you to
take that glass of wine and go stand in the corner until I call
you."  I tried to lift my head at the mention of the wine. "I
know you don't drink much and I will not permit you to drink more
than you should, but a glass of wine will do you good and I
expect you to drink it. You have pleased me, Mr. Evans."  her
voice caught, and I realized she was emotionally overcome, too.
"You have pleased me greatly. You may just be my soulmate,
Nathan."

The end session key. I walked to her and knelt. "Mistress, may I
please pay you your due homage?"  I heard no answer, but her hand
appeared in front of my eyes. I kissed it more fervently than
before, then stood, and turned to my corner. The flash I caught
of her in that moment showed rivulets of mascara down her cheeks,
and a tremulous smile on her lips. I sighed happily and took a
sip of the wine. Maybe I had won something tonight. It certainly
felt that way.

Chapter 9:     Dinner and Desert

I wanted, badly, to eat dinner standing up. Monique insisted that
I sit and eat like a civilized person. Frankly, I did not feel
very civilized. I felt even less so once I sat on her very hard
dining room chairs and I told her so. Her answering laugh sent
hot chills down my spine.

Dinner was superb. As with everything she did, Monique was an
artist in the kitchen. A light, delicately spiced chicken stir
fry that was filling, but not heavy, was served over perfectly
cooked rice. She even coaxed me into having another glass of wine
with the main course. My compliments were met with a teasing
smile. "I will bet you say that to all the ladies who cook dinner
for you dinner after they have roasted your bottom for you."

"Well, since you are the only lady who has ever done both, I must
admit that you are correct. However, honest compliments are
supposed to be accepted graciously, Monique. How am I ever going
to move ahead with this courtship if you cannot appreciate the
simplest flattery?"  I said with a suitably hangdog expression.

That earned a throaty laugh. "Well, just so long as you
understand that every gain has its own cost. Care to join me for
a drink?"

I did not want to misunderstand her offer. "Monique, I've already
had the wine you insisted that I drink earlier and the wine with
dinner. I don't drink much anymore in any case and I could not
drive home any time soon."  Then I considered the opportunity to
spend more time with her. "Oh, well, I'll call a cab. Will it be
all right for me to leave my car here tonight and pick it up
tomorrow?"

She giggled. "Silly man, whatever made you think you were going
home, tonight?"  She rose regally from her chair, beckoned to me
to follow her, and then led the way back into the den. The room
looked subtly different now, than it had just a couple of hours
previously. It seemed brighter, less inhospitable. Part of the
change in ambiance was the cheery fire crackling in the hearth.
It might have been summer in Northern Virginia, but the air
conditioning was more than adequate for comfort, and the softly
flickering light of the fire relaxed me.

The major change, of course, was the difference in Monique. Gone
was the starkly attractive, coldly beautiful Mistress who had
taken me places I did not want to go and then brought me back
safely. Monique had changed into a pretty, feminine jewel-bright
blue dress. The skirt was knee length and full. She was wearing
matching shoes with moderately tall high heels. Even her
cosmetics were different, still vivid, but softer and more
classically lovely. She looked for all the world like a woman
entertaining her suitor after an intimate dinner for two.

Monique offered me a snifter of brandy, but I declined more to
drink since I was already feeling the effects of what I had
already imbibed. She gave me a glass of mineral water, and poured
herself a brandy. Giving me a wicked smile, she sat down opposite
me and asked, "Comfy, darling?"

"You know I'm not, witch. I salute your strong arm and your
cruelty."

"I was, wasn't I."  she said happily. "But, Nathan, you did so
well. I'm so proud of you, darling."  I nodded, benignly as a
king accepting tribute, and raised my glass in salute. 

An easy silence enveloped us.  For myself, I was enjoying the
quiet lassitude that always follows the completion of a stressful
action. That I was with Monique made the quiet time better,
somehow more important. I studied every nuance of her, how she
held her snifter, where she rested her hands, the way her eyes
moved and flashed in the fire's light. So I saw, before she said
a word, when something intruded into her reveries, something that
she did not quite understand. 

"Nathan?"  her tone was pensive, "Why did you confront Mistress
Monique in my office today?  I have thought about it several
times since, and I am still not sure why you did that or what you
hoped to achieve by it."

"I was angry about the game with the panties. I could not express
that anger, since it became obvious to me that it was part of
whatever it was you had planned for tonight. I had, after all,
promised to go along, no matter how unreasonable I found the
whole thing."  I smiled ruefully at her grimace. "You surely did
not expect whole hearted acceptance of that, did you?  Sorry, but
I am not made that way. So I fell back on the artificial
behaviors that got me through similar situations in the past. 

"There was a particularly obnoxious First Classman, that is a
college senior for you civilian types, back at the Academy. 
First Classman, or Firsties, are God and the devil to the Plebes
at the Academy, and he was the worst of the lot.  He would set me
up, put me in no win situations, hoping to catch me in an honor
code violation.  An honor code violation is where you don't own
up to having failed or having done something wrong. It is a quick
ticket to having to walk discipline tours, and sometimes even to
expulsion.  Once I figured out what he was up to, I bailed out as
soon as I saw the setup, admitted my failure, and accepted what
he could do to me for that failure without complaining to anyone.
What he could do in those circumstances was much more limited,
since no Code violations pertained, and it frustrated the hell
out of him."  I grinned malevolently at the remembered anger.
That bastard had failed promotion to Lieutenant Commander and had
been gone from the Navy in six years.

Monique sat up straight as she made the connection. "You mean
that you put ME in the same category with that person?"  She did
outraged disappointment so well I almost laughed.

"Weren't you?  Was that NOT a setup?  Before you say another
word, I will admit that I did try and find a replacement pair,
not that I would have presented them to you as anything but
replacements."  A smirk greeted that statement. "Well, you will
find out, won't you. In any case, what I discovered is that those
are very fragile, with special washing instructions, which you so
carefully cut from the panty."
 
"Those labels are so rough on tender parts of my delicately
feminine self, Nathan. I have to cut them off."  Her moue of
dismay at this apparent lack of faith in her made my smile all
the wider. 

"Oh, I am sure, Monique."

She gave up the pretense and sipped her brandy. "So you are going
to be a smart ass sub?  One who always tries to disrupt my
carefully planned scenes?"  

"You already told me that I am not a sub, and I agree. I am not
one, but to answer your question. I don't intend to disrupt them
all."  

Concern filled her eyes. "Then why would you do this?  Why are
you agreeing to play these scenes out?   Tell me. I mean, I
understand a sub or someone who entertains some sub fantasies,
but why are you doing this?  Believe me, Nathan, what you got
tonight is only the tip of the iceberg. I need and I will demand
much more from you if you are to be the man in my life."

All feelings of humor fled from me. "I told you, Monique. I want
to be the man in your life. You have set the rules and you write
the tests. I have accepted that. Besides, I may have some
fantasies along those lines. Presenting myself to a beautiful
woman as I did tonight does have .... piquancy. I cannot pretend
that I was not excited and that I did not orgasm, now can I?  
But, and it is a big but, it is still a game for me, or perhaps,
more correctly, a test. It is not what or who I am. However, it
is what I will do and what I will accept if that is what is
required to be with you, to make you happy."  

Her brow furrowed in concentration and she took a sip of her
brandy as she considered my words. "And you do not see that as
submission?  You are, after all, surrendering yourself to me, on
my demand, for what ever pleases me to do with you, in order to
make me happy. Many would say that is the very definition of
submission."

"Not really, because I don't feel it as submission. Mostly, I
feel as if it is a contest, and that you are the prize that I
must win. It is perhaps more the question if you see it as
submissive enough to satisfy you."

"I don't know, Nathan. It is certainly unique in my experience.
And I do care for you. It will be fun trying to reach you, to
find out if you are, in fact, as you say, testing yourself in
challenging me, or if you are fooling yourself and submitting to
me."

The discussion of her little panty gambit jogged my memory, and I
went to the foyer to retrieve my abandoned hostess gift. I handed
her the heavy, cubic, beribboned box, and also, a pink envelope
that I had secreted in my inner coat pocket. "These are both
yours, Monique."  She set the box down, and started to open the
envelope. I think she expected a greeting card, because confusion
knitted her forehead as she drew forth the cheque like piece of
paper. 

Her laugh resounded in the room. "A gift certificate, from
Victoria's Secret. Why not the real thing, Nathan?  I really
think you should have to buy my underwear personally, Mr. Evans,
since you so callously destroyed them."

I smiled. "No, Monique. I intended what you buy with that to be
for Monique to share with Nathan, not for Mistress Monique to
torment poor Mr. Evans with."

Her smile was gentle, and a little sad. "We are not separate
entities, Nathan. I am Monique and I am Mistress. I cannot turn
the domme on and off like that."

"Perhaps not, dear, but for now, I am separate from the entity
that accepts your disciplines. Nor, am I up to the level where I
can deal with your two persona at the same time. For now, I need
to keep those as separate, too. Buy something nice, Monique. Buy
a symbol that we can both share in my type of session."

"All right, Nathan. That is fair. But don't think tricks like
this will keep you out of the lingerie departments. I like
lingerie, and not just on me."  The memory of red panties with
hosiery, and semen-dampened black lace washed over me, and I
blushed in spite of myself. Monique's grin made it even worse.
Mercifully, she turned her attentions to the box. "Well, what is
in this lovely box. Too heavy to be more dainties..."  Her voice
trailed off as she lifted the contents from the box.

It was a crystal glass ball, about five inches in diameter.
Inside the transparent shell was a single purple pansy; it's
velvet perfection locked forever in the crystalline sphere. "My
god, Nathan, it's lovely."  She held it up to the lamp, and
watched the light play on the crystal. "I love pansies. What ever
made you think to buy this?  I don't think Roselie knows how much
I love these flowers."

I recounted the story of the Water Park, and of the lovely woman
who had stopped to caress a flower. "It gave me the impetus to
make a decision, Monique. Ultimately, a decision that has led me
to you. I wanted to share that with you."  

Tears ran down her cheeks as she cradled the ball to her breasts.
"I don't think I have ever received such a lovely and wonderful
gift, Nathan. I will treasure it always. Thank you."

My arms were suddenly full of woman as Monique threw herself into
my arms. Her sudden arrival pressed me back into the cushion,
driving me forcefully onto my tender backside. I squirmed, trying
to relieve the steadily increasing soreness in my gluteus. 

Monique missed nothing and immediately saw what I was trying to
do. Her eyes danced in wicked merriment at my predicament. Her
tongue licked sensuously at her lips, moistening her lipstick and
making me ache for a taste, too. She moved closer until I could
feel her soft exhalations on my neck as she whispered. "There are
things that we can.... that YOU can do, Nathan dear, that
wouldn't be quite so ... uhmmmmm," her voice rose suggestively,
and I felt her tongue tickle at my ear, "stressful on certain
parts of your anatomy." I saw her smile brighten and her eyes
darken. "Things you said in my questionnaire that you are very
fond of, and consider yourself to be quite skilled at. I do
wonder."  Her voice trailed off, becoming soft, intensely
seductive. 

She stood and moved back to her chair, settling herself on its
arm. My eyes followed hers until a slight movement at the bottom
of my field of vision caught my attention. She was lifting her
skirt with one hand, holding her snifter in the other. The minx
had on black panties with no center panel. Her soft curls and the
treasures they hid were framed in black lace. "Dessert, darling? 
I'm sure your knees and your tongue are just fine."  A look of
purely female devilment was alight in her eyes. 

The alcohol and the earlier orgasm had combined to blunt my own
urges. Right then, only two things mattered to me. The first was
Monique, her satisfaction and that I could provide it for her.
The second was that I needed to express my feeling from a
position of strength.

I set my glass down back down and moved to where she sat, still
holding the glistening blue of her skirt aside. She gracefully
shifted position, sliding her bottom closer to the edge of the
chair's arm, making her elegantly framed vulva more accessible
and more inviting. 

A most satisfying squeal of alarm and surprise greeted my ears as
I swept her up into my arms and carried her over to the hearth.
Some of her brandy spilled, covering her legs with the aromatic
golden liquid. With infinite care, I laid her down on the small
area rug that rested in front of the fireplace, and I kissed her,
deeply, possessively. In that kiss, I tried to possess as much of
her, as she had of me during the discipline scene earlier in this
same room. She returned my kiss with her own fire and her own
demands, meeting my challenge and challenging me in return, much
as I had earlier endeavored to answer her.

Shifting down her, I inhaled softly, savoring the combined scent
of warm brandy and hot woman. "Mmmmm, maybe I will have that
brandy, after all, love."  Starting with her knees and working my
way up, slowly, teasingly, I delicately lapped at the shiny
liquid saturating her hosiery. Every last vestige of flavor was
consumed and savored. Her hands moved to my hair, trying to
hasten my arrival at her pleasure center, but I resisted, wanting
to draw out her surrender and my enjoyment.

Much later, we lay side by side on the floor in front of the
fireplace, murmuring and stroking each other, warm in our mutual
satiation. "Monique?"  She stretched, purred, nuzzled and kissed
my cheek. "I want you to know something. I'm going to try to make
you happy because I want to spend the good times like this with
you for the rest of my life. If that means I have to give you
times like earlier, I'll try my best. I don't know how much more
I can take, because it hurt quite badly, Monique. Forgive me if,
no, when I fail you. It won't be for lack of trying. Please, help
me to please you. I need you."

"I think you do just fine pleasing me, Nathan."  She silenced any
response with a kiss.  "I'll help you, Nathan. I want to help us.
And I also want more of the times like this.  You surprised me,
love, and quite nicely, too, once I got over you taking charge as
you did. Make sure you don't forget how."  

We cuddled and talked into the early hours of the morning.
Surprisingly, we never made love that night. I had loved her
repeatedly with month, tongue and fingers, but my only
satisfaction was in watching her soar under my touch. Her
response to my efforts thrilled me to my soul. 

Finally, the time came to go home. The departure was keenly felt
by us both, and painful in more ways than one. The fine, firm
comfortable bucket seats of my vehicle were not so very
comfortable when I got in to drive home.

No, not comfortable at all.

End Part 4


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