The Tale of the Tardy Tawdry Tart, Part 1

Preface:  This is my first work of fiction, inspired by someone both submissive and challenged by punctuality.  When I considered a sub being late, it would only make sense it would occur toward the beginning of a relationship, when a couple enjoys the honeymoon phase.  A true Dom wouldn't tolerate habitual tardiness from his sub, for long..  What follows is not traditional BDSM material, but I think it reflects a real life engagement.  Not all of it can be hardcore action.  There will neither be additional fiction forthcoming, nor a Part 2.

And yes, I do enjoy alliteration, thank you.  

He looked in the oven for the third time in the past ten minutes, this final check confirming what he already knew; the food contained within was well and truly past its prime.  The dish wasn't something he necessarily cared for, nor were the prep techniques within his traditional skill set.  But she'd mentioned it was her absolute favorite food and he intended to surprise her; she was worth the effort.  Except, just like almost every other time they planned something together, she was late.  Not by a few minutes; it was now half past when she promised to arrive.  Ordinarily, he rolled with it, because of how lucky he felt to have her as his partner.   She was the total package of intellect, wit, and beauty; and she was a dirty girl.  They'd only been a couple, or D and s, for two months, so there were still some uncharted waters to navigate together.  He wouldn't admit to it, but he'd already fallen for her, hard.  

However, action was clearly required to break her pattern of tardiness.  Besides, she was his possession, and possessions do not show their owners such disrespect.  As he sat, stewing over the problem, pondering how he'd address the situation, the doorbell rang.  

All of the negativity evaporated when he opened the door.  Her smile never failed to brighten his day and melt his heart, just a little.  She was wearing a short, flowery yellow summer dress that straddled the line between cute and revealing.  Her auburn locks cascaded over her shoulders.  She looked amazing.  Because she was a good girl, save her ability to use a clock, panties would have been left at home.  After he closed the door, he scooped her up, wrapping her in his strong embrace.  She loved how safe she felt in his arms and he loved having her there.  

Suddenly, without preamble, he released her and stepped away.  When he turned to face her again, gone were the kind eyes in which she'd been bathing a moment ago, replaced by those that belonged to The Iceman.  She knew she'd been a bad girl and assumed the proper submissive pose of hands clasped in front of her, with her head appropriately lowered.

He spoke with without emotion.     

'Once again, you're late to arrive.  I've begrudgingly overlooked your tardiness so far, but no longer.  Tonight, I planned to surprise you with your favorite dish, which as you know has a short window in which it can be served before becoming inedible.  Needless to say, that window has long passed.  I even had the aardvark flown in fresh.  Your disregard for my time can be no longer tolerated.'

The feelings came rapid fire.  A flash of warmth from his thoughtfulness; he'd really gone to all of that trouble for me?  This was quickly replaced with guilt over squandering such a precious gift; all of the time he spent to make her happy, ruined by her.  Then the fear arrived.  Could she lose him over this?  She'd never seen him so devoid of emotion, before.  It was the fear that remained, then blossomed.

She looked up at him with genuine remorse in her eyes, resuming the role of his partner, 'Oh my god, honey.  I'm so sorry.  If I'd have known...'

Her sentiment of contrition was cut short by the withering look he gave her.  She quickly returned to her proper position and place in this portion of their relationship.  

'Sir, I am sorry for causing you such trouble.  My behavior has been completely unacceptable.  If you can find it in your heart to forgive me, I promise it won't happen again.'

She dropped to her knees in order emphasize the sincerity of her supplication,  

'You are my possession, confirmed by the necklace you wear, symbolizing your submission.  Do you acknowledge this to be true?'

'Yes sir, I belong completely to you for you to do with me as you wish.'

'And I have upheld my portion of the arrangement, correct?  You are properly taken care of and your journey of pleasure has lived up to your expectations?'

'Yes, sir.  It's so much more than I could have imagined.'  

'Then it's time you began to act accordingly and show your owner proper respect by arriving in a punctual manner.  After all, what would happen if the other members of The Fraternal Brotherhood of Dominants, Chapter 5 caught wind that their president was allowing his property to behave with such disrespect?  I'd receive a vote of no confidence before I knew what happened.  Everyone over there wants to be in charge as it is.'

She struggled to maintain a straight face, but his injection of humor caused her to breathe a sigh of relief.  It was a signal that his affection for her remained constant.  His ability to make her laugh was one of the things that she found most attractive about him.  

'At first, I considered a more traditional course of discipline, involving the paddle I recently purchased. However, after consideration, I find such punishment to be lacking in finesse and may not actually deter you from future transgressions.  In fact, you may enjoy such corporal punishment a bit too much.  In fact, I bet your sex just gushed a bit at the thought of me spanking your hot little ass.'

With that, he stepped forward and reached up under her dress, briefly admiring her rock hard nipples attempting to pierce the fabric.  She gasped in surprise when she felt him roughly pawing at her sex.    He withdrew his hand and examined his fingers in an almost detached manner, as though lost in his own thoughts.

'Drenched...', he said in a borderline derisive tone.  'Just as I suspected.'

'Do you know how to modify a dog's behavior to prevent it from jumping up on you?  Not by punishing it, but by not giving it the one thing it wants most when it jumps...you.  So, you hook the dog's leash to a solid object and beckon the dog over to you.  If the dog jumps, you turn away and move just out of the leash's radius.  You take away its reward, you.  If the dog doesn't jump, you remain in place and praise it and it eventually learns the behavior to receive its desired reward'

God, he was talking about training her like a dog.  She knew she should be offended, but at the same time, she couldn't deny her arousal toward the thought.  It was as close to complete objectification as she'd been taken.  She'd been a bad girl and deserved whatever treatment her owner meted out.  This man knew how to push buttons she didn't know existed within herself and she'd come to trust him implicitly, as a result.  He could do anything he wanted to her and she'd willingly comply.  His voice snapped her back to the present.   

'In order to ensure your behavior is well and truly modified, you'll be treated accordingly.'

She looked up and saw he had a collar and leash in his hand.  Again, with any of her previous lovers, she'd have yelled the safe word, called him a pig, and walked out the door.  Except now, she just thought of how she truly was becoming his possession and it made her feel warm inside.  She leaned forward to make it easier for him to fit the collar.

After affixing the collar to her dainty neck, he took a step back, leash in hand, and spoke again.

'What was the one thing you were looking forward to most, coming over tonight, beyond enjoying my winning personality and charm?  Perhaps for me to subject you to the same treatment as I did a few nights ago?  You told me you'd never passed out from an orgasm before.  Was that what you wanted tonight?'

He'd proved over and over that he could make her orgasm at will, but hold her on the brink, if he desired.  She loved when he demanded she beg for her release.  She always felt like a used dishrag, when he was done with her.  The memory set her whole body ablaze.  

'Well?'

She bit her lower lip a bit and said, 'You know I want that, sir.  You have the videos showing how turned on I was for you the whole week.  I tried to be a good girl.'   

'Hopefully, you'll have fond memories of the pleasure I brought you, because tonight, you'll go without.'

He was withholding sex?  She wondered if he wasn't the man she thought he was, after all.  Withholding sex was petty; something an insecure little boy does.  Worst of all, withholding sex was flat out lazy and lacked imagination.

'Lest you think you'll escape so easily, your hot little body will still receive copious amounts of attention and pleasure from me, just no closure, if you will.  Tonight will be all about denying those things you most want.'

With that, used the leash to guide her into the bedroom.    

'Remove your dress and lay down on the bed.'

His voice remained as cold as ice, so she quickly complied. 

'Hands.'

She quickly found herself restrained to the bed, both arms and legs firmly anchored, unable to move more than an inch or two in any direction.  

Once she was bound in place, he blindfolded her.  One of the most intense sexual experiences of her life began with him taking the same actions.  She was completely at his mercy and, oh God, could he see her literally dripping for him?  Of course he could see the wetness glistening on her bare pussy and the small spots materializing on the sheet as it dripped. 

The blindfold not only added a level of suspense for her, it also prevented her from seeing the look of absolute desire on his own face.  This amazing woman never failed to stoke his own inferno of lust and he wanted nothing more than to devour her.  She needed to be taught a lesson, but this truly was the case of being more painful for him than for her.  

With his possession properly secured, he left the room to give final considerations to his course of discipline.

Love - It's a Verb Dammit

The following is the maiden entry in my now world famous blog 😎.  However, for reasons unbeknownst to me, it had disappeared.  Obviously, this can't stand, so I'm reposting it, with a few edits to tighten it up (or make it worse, depending how you look at it).  The entry is important to me for both the message and circumstances that caused me to write it.  Also, there are a number of other entries in my blog that refer back to this one.

Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about love.  We all want to love and be loved; anyone who claims they don’t is lying. Those three little words can so intoxicating to hear from someone you think hung the moon.  But, do we really understand what it means to love someone?  To me, it involves so much more than emotion.  To me, love is a verb.

Emotion is the feeling that forms for those we feel very strongly about. It’s sort of the ‘secret sauce’ of a relationship and something that I’m not so arrogant to think I can tackle explaining. You can read one of the myriad of studies on the topic, should you wish to delve deeper into that particular facet.

Blah, blah, blah…tell me something I don’t know.

Okay, how about this? Love cannot be love without commitment, a conscious decision to consider the other person’s happiness and well-being as a priority in your actions.

Alongside commitment, comes sacrifice, because in order to place that priority on the other person’s well-being, it often requires you to give something up. For example, you don’t buy the Porsche so your wife will have the funds for grad school.  You sacrifice willingly and happily for the other person.

The two components of emotional bond and commitment must total up to some value, which I won’t attempt to quantify here, in order for true love to exist. However, both must be present. This basic structure applies to all forms of love; romantic, familial, love of friends, etc. The ratios will fluctuate accordingly, depending upon the type of love.

I’m sure we all know a couple who’s been together forever and their entire lives revolve around each other.  They've become so emotionally bonded, that they'd be lost without the other and their entire lives have been about making each other happy.  What about some other examples? A mother loves her newborn baby more than life itself, but beyond the whole imprinting and chemical stuff, how much emotion could she really feel for a screaming, poop machine that won’t let her sleep?  Yet, she sacrifices sleep, her social life, a healthy chunk of her income, and so on because of an unbreakable commitment to its well-being.  I can't think of a more perfect example of love as a verb.

The genesis of this entry occurred about a month and a half after Sloan and I became a couple, when I told her I loved her for the first time.  She took issue with my doing so, saying I didn't know her well enough to feel that way.  I responded that love was a verb and I'd made a commitment to make her happiness a priority.  I still live that commitment as much as I'm able, under the circumstances, as does she.

On the flip side, we have way too many members of our society who allow their emotions to run amok, fall for every person they sleep with, and call it love. But when loving that person becomes work and requires effort, they’re not quite as in love as they thought. The emotion may have been there, but the commitment was non-existent. And that’s one of the reasons our divorce rate is so damned high.

Fortunately, I’ve only experienced this with one woman I loved. She was all in for the lavish dinners, vacations, gifts, and attention heaped upon her. But, when our relationship required work (in this case, honest communication), she ran for the exit.

I’ve dated enough women to have heard every rationale known to man for their previous marriage ending. I can completely buy infidelity as a valid reason to walk away.  Abuse, a no brainer.  A marriage isn’t much good if one of the partners doesn’t honor their commitment to the other.  But, there have been a few who have told me ‘I fell out of love with him’, to which I always ask how that occurred.  Didn’t you try to work to save the marriage, particularly as it was beginning to falter?  It’s caused a few less than pleasant moments when I’ve followed up with ‘what happens when our fairy tale ends?  Would you fall out of love with me too?  Should I just sign over half of my assets now?’ And, that tends to be my cue to exit.

Ordinarily, I'd continue to proselytize but I think the concept a basic one.  Plus, there has apparently already been much written on the topic (which I looked into after writing my own piece) as well as a John Mayer song (also discovered after writing this).

Love isn't just something you feel, it's something you do, because love is a verb.

So, I end by asking my readers a question. Do you know how to love?