The Training of Cecelia

Just as ridiculous was my ignoring two phone calls and five texts from my husband... I just couldn't talk to him right now!

Even more ridiculously I came dressed sexy... and even slutty underneath... I came here with hope... hope he'd finally make some tangible moves on me after all he'd implied, and after all I'd assumed he'd seen inside me when he'd really looked into me with those seductive, hypnotic eyes.

This time I arrived outside his house two minutes early, so I waited half a minute before walking up the steps to his very large home. I knocked on the door exactly one minute early.

I then needed to wait a minute before he opened the door at precisely five o'clock. And immediately I realized I'd gotten dressed with entirely the wrong idea in mind. Here I was dressed to the nines, or perhaps more like the sixty-nines, and Paul was dressed totally casually. He was simply wearing jeans and a light sweater, not even any shoes, although he was wearing some funky socks.

"Come on in, Cecelia." Which was also casual and totally laid back.

"Thank you," said I, feeling completely overwhelmed by my presumption and silliness. First, Paul was an entirely different level of specimen. Ridiculously good looking, well worthy of a Ten Rating for his movie star looks and charm. Whereas I was a Six, or perhaps a Seven I hoped, dressed like I was today. No way he was planning to fuck me! No way should I have been so willing to cheat on my husband! What had I been thinking?!

He said, once I'd walked in and he'd closed the door, "You look lovely, Cecelia."

Instantly the hope that had just been crushed was rejuvenated. I turned around, my five-inch heels bringing me to only a few inches shorter than him, "I wasn't certain what the dress code was for tonight."

"Well, I may have underdressed," he smiled. "I certainly don't consider you dressed inappropriately."

"No..." I said, as I could really see how his sweater showcased his arms and chest. Fuck, I just wanted to run my hands all over his arms and linger over his manly chest. And unlike my husband, he had no spare tire; none at all. "...you really pull that look off."

"Thanks," he said, purposefully obvious about taking all of me in.

"Like?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "It's professional, yet fun and... and a little sexy."

"Just a little sexy?"

"Well, in a nightclub you'd turn a lot of heads, that's for sure," he said. "Come with me."

"Sure," I said as I followed him.

"Oh," he said as he turned around to face me again. "Would you please remove your heels? My hardwood floors have just been polished."

"Of course," I said, thinking I was losing a sexy part of the entire package... but at least my feet had been recently manicured, and my toenails matched my fingernails, which matched my lipstick... all of them ruby red.

I slipped out of my heels, and he offered me a surprise compliment, "I particularly like your toenails painted red like that."

"Thanks," I said, playfully wiggling my toes.

"A woman should accentuate all of her assets."

"My toes are assets?"

"A beautiful woman's legs, feet and toes combine into a potentially lethal combination, don't you think?"

"Oh? Perhaps, I've never thought about it," I responded. I knew I had great legs, and my feet were cute I guessed, but I'd never thought about my toes taking part in a lethal combination.

"Understanding how a man's mind has different trigger points from a woman's is often a key to success," he said, glancing down at my nylon-clad feet. "You must have learned that on your way to the top."

I wasn't sure whether he was accusing me of fucking my way to the top or manipulating men. I'd done a little of the former early on (although blow jobs usually sufficed to get what I wanted), and a lot of the latter ongoingly. Men were easily swayed by my tits, my ass and my legs, and I guess now that he'd mentioned them, my feet and toes... for although I'd abandoned this technique years ago... a dangling heel had often been enough to draw a man in. "You're right; I've learned most men are easy to manipulate. Present company excluded of course, you're formidable!"

He laughed heartily, and soon afterwards led me downstairs to his basement and offered me a drink: "What's your poison?"

"You're not choosing for me this time?" I asked flirtatiously, another hint of my submissive persona.

"I certainly can if you'd like," he said as he selected a bottle from his rather large selection. He poured me an amber rum from a bottle I didn't recognize and said, "I picked this one up in Hawaii."

I accepted the glass and sipped from it. "Mmmmmmm, very nice," I said, both because of the scent and the taste.

"I thought you'd like it."

"Why's that?"

"You have an appreciation for the finer things," he said as he poured himself a splash of the same rum.

"As do you," I agreed.

"Yes, I've come to appreciate obtaining the quality things I want," he said, only somewhat addressing what we were discussing.

"What do you want?" I asked, with an ever so slyly flirtatious tone.

He didn't reply except with a 'follow me' gesture and we walked around from the bar to a couch facing a large home theatre system and he sat down... where he patted the spot beside him, even though there were six other seats for me to choose from. "Come sit."

I did as he requested. Sitting beside him and crossing my legs, so one of the nylon-clad feet he seemed so enticed by was closer to him than it would be when resting on the carpet.

"What do you want?" he asked, returning my earlier question with the exact same one, just a different inflection and a slightly different meaning.

"What do you mean?" I asked. "That's the question I just asked you."

"Well, may I assume you want to maintain your position as CEO?"

"Of course."

"And you want to improve your relationships with your staff?"

"Thanks to you, I've come to accept that's a rather high priority," I nodded. "Over time I'd allowed my original true vision to become muddied."

"It happens to the best of us," he nodded.

"You've lost your vision?" I asked. "I've certainly seen no evidence of it."

"Well, not so much that..." he began as he turned sideways to gaze right into my eyes, which I found as compelling as ever, but this time he also reached down and placed a hand on my nylon-clad foot as he continued, "...it just took me a very long time to discover who I was as a person, and to learn what I needed."

"And what do you need?" I asked, his hand not moving across my foot, simply resting there, while his eyes bored into me like Superman's.

"What do you need?" he asked me again, frustrating me by answering my question with another question... and worse yet, the exact same question.

"Why am I here?" I asked, as his hand began to move ever so slowly over my foot, sending a chill up my back. "And that's not an existential question, I mean why am I here tonight?"

"Why do you think you're here?"

"I'm beginning to ask myself that same question," I said, getting more frustrated.

"Look, we both know why you're here," he said, his hand drifting up to my ankle.

"Because you ordered me here," I said, trying to be as blunt as possible about my submissive nature (but without coming right out and fucking saying it, damn him!).

"'Ordered'. Interesting choice of a verb."

"How so?" I asked coyly, as if I hadn't purposefully chosen that specific word.

"Did I actually order you here?"

"More or less," I said. "Did I have a choice?"

"Certainly," he said. "I'll never insist on your doing anything you don't wish to do. You could have easily counter-suggested we meet at the office, a restaurant, or even your house."

"I didn't wish to be rude," I said. "And as I've said before, I've learned to value your opinion."

"Perhaps so," he shrugged, his hand still proceeding upwards at a snail's pace. "There's still one remaining area we need to address in your leadership makeover."

"There is, is there?" I asked, excited, nervous, yet also finding him just a tad pretentious.

"Like I've said before in our earlier discussion, it's clear you aren't satisfied with the life you lead once you leave your work behind."

"I never leave my work behind," I said, as his hand reached the swell of my calf.

"Well, therein lies the problem."

"How so?" I asked, becoming more and more drawn in by his eyes, his touch, and his words.

"I think you already know the answer," he said softly, almost but not quite a whisper, his eyes still connected to mine.

"Just tell me," I said.

"You do want me just to tell you, don't you, Cecelia?" he asked, his tone so sexy and firm... his eyes locked on mine.

"Well why the fuck not?" I said, trying to act casual when I was actually dying for his dick!

"Does Joseph understand what you need?"

"Heavens no," I admitted, "he doesn't have a fucking clue."

"And what is it you need?" he asked like a broken parrot, his hand now resting on my knee.

"You know what I need," I insisted, becoming flustered, excited, rattled... wet.

"I do know, yes," agreed. "I know exactly what you need and how to provide it."

"Oh," was all I could reply to his confident words.

"But..." he said, smiling for the first time in this entire conservation, this seduction, this whatever, "I really do use that word a lot."

"You do," I agreed a bit impatiently, on pins and needles about what he might say next and wishing he'd just come right out and say it!

"But first I need you to tell me what you want, and to say it clearly."

"Please don't make me do that," I pleaded, his hand now at the hem of my dress yet not attempting to explore any further, was driving me nuts.

"Cecelia, I never make anyone do anything they don't wish to," he said, a finger slowly drifting back and forth just below my dress. "But we both know I have the knowledge and ability to give you everything you desperately need and desire."

"But I'm married," I pointed out, my head spinning, my pussy burning... this red herring protest really just for the purpose of protesting somehow... I knew I was going to give in... married or not... but I wanted to put up some sort of resistance.

"Yes you are," he nodded, as his fingers finally slid underneath my dress, while he repeated a telling question I'd already answered, but now more meaningfully with his hand slowly progressing upwards toward my already very stimulated... and uncovered... pussy, "and does he give you what you need? Does he understand what you need?"

"No," I said, my body trembling at his touch, at his words. "He cannot."

"And what, Cecelia, do you need?" he asked me -again.

"It's just so embarrassing to say," I complained, while his fingers reached my stocking tops.

"Why did you dress in a garter-belt and stockings?" he asked, his eyes never once leaving mine, as his fingers slowly explored around on the top of a stocking.

"Just in case," I said mindlessly.

"In case of what?"

"Just in case you might decide to assess my attire."

"You expected I might decide to see what was underneath your dress?" he asked, his hands now inching closer to my fevered pussy and getting very close.

"I thought it might occur," I said, quivering with surreal anticipation.

"So are you telling me you're ready to begin your final training?"

"I don't know," I said, standing up, suddenly overwhelmed. "M-m-may I use your washroom?"

"Sure," he nodded, not getting up. "It's the third door on the right."

I hurried towards the washroom, but as I passed an open door, I gasped and stopped in my tracks. I was staring into a sex room. Among many other implements, it contained a St. Andrew's cross (the one like an X), a bench with bindings, some whips and paddles displayed on a wall... I shouldn't have, but I walked right in.

"Holy shit," I said, as I entered and next saw a Sybian resting on the floor, a bed large enough for five, a wall with costumes on hangers, a mirror on the ceiling above the bed, ball gags, and more sex toys I couldn't even fathom their purposes.

"I thought you needed to pee," his deep voice observed from behind me.

"Sorry, but the door was open."

"This is where some of your training might eventually take place."

"I can't fathom," I said, the contents of this room substantially more intense than anything I'd ever imagined, even in my many submissive dreams.

"I bet you can without half trying," he said, his hands now resting on my shoulders as he stood behind me.

"I was contemplating a far more simplistic version of submission," I admitted in stunned awe.

"The world of submission spans a very wide range," he said, his hands remaining on my shoulders, but not pushing me to my knees, which is how I'd envisioned my initial submission occurring... and what I really wanted to happen.

I turned around, and deciding just to answer the question he'd asked earlier that I'd attempted to avoid so strenuously, "Yeah, I was hoping for you to make me suck your dick and thus become your submissive or something."

"Do you want to suck my cock?" he asked, his eyes boring into mine again, his hands once again resting on my shoulders, but still not applying any downward pressure.

"I don't quite know," I said, prevaricating again, even though I desperately wanted him to push my shoulders downwards with his strong hands, guide me to my knees, reveal his huge cock (I prayed it would be) and shove it in my mouth.

"This is the last time I'll ask you this, Cecelia," he warned. "What do you want?"

"I want..." I began, as I looked pleadingly into his eyes.

"I want..." I repeated, truly wanting to say the words, wanting to just blurt everything out, yet struggling against my years of hidden shame, of concealing my nasty self from a judgemental world, against my almost lifetime resistance to my finally crossing that invisible line. Until now everything Paul and I had spoken of had been all theory, flirtation, temptation... etc.... but this was the step that once said, I could never retreat from!

"What I want... what I really want... more than anything..." I struggled to force out on the third try, and then hurriedly blurted out the rest "...is to be your submissive!" a chill going up my spine upon uttering that simple yet powerful statement.

"I see," he said, which wasn't exactly the response I was expecting. I was expecting him to agree immediately, to take control, to use me.

"Is it bad for me to want that?" I asked from total vulnerability, desperately needing his approval, desperately needing him to confirm that he understood these needs, and that he didn't hate me for having them!

"No, it's not bad," he said, "not at all. It's natural."

"My wanting to be your submissive is really natural?" I asked, the idea feeling oddly natural to me, yet not at all natural either... if that makes any sense.

"He said, his eyes still never leaving mine, his hands remaining on my shoulders, still just like I'd fantasized so many times, but still without applying any pressure, "You're a submissive by nature, it's who you are, not just something you might do, or actually that you're doing right now, and you need this kind of release from your everyday life, if you're to achieve any balance."

"But it makes me weak," I said. "Everybody knows that."

"If they think that, they're wrong; what It makes you is human," and he'd now completed his explanation, since at long last, he gently pushed me to my knees.

"I can't believe I'm doing this," I said, my mind spinning with lust. Even though I hadn't even seen his dick yet, I simply had to have it.

"You know you need this," he said, as I brought my hands to his belt.

"Stop!" he barked sternly.

I froze, startled. "Am I doing something wrong?" I asked, looking up.

"Did I give you permission to undo my belt?" he asked, surprising me again.

"No, but I...."

"You never think when you're on your knees, all you do is obey, is that clear?" he interrogated, not in an angry fashion, just a dominant one... which turned me on even more.

"Yes sir," I replied without hesitation, wanting to just let go of myself and obey, and using the simple word 'sir', to add emphasis to the hierarchy already established.

"Good girl," he said, "now lean forward and suck on my cock through my pants."

"Really?" I asked, this not at all what I'd expected.

"Don't ever question me," he scolded. "Just do as you're told."

"Sorry sir, yes sir," I apologized, and I leaned forward, bringing me very close to his disappointingly flaccid cock. Why wasn't he hard? Didn't he find me attractive? Insecurity continued swarming through me.

My position felt awkward, this was weird, but I used my lips and sucked his big cock (from what I could feel, I thought it must be big) through his pants. God, I wanted to see it ... to suck it skin to skin... and ultimately to be fucked by it.

I performed this task for just a couple of minutes before he said, "You may undo my belt and pull down my pants."

"Thank you sir," I replied with an excitement that likely sounded pathetic and desperate. It was as if I'd been waiting for Christmas morning and was finally about to catch sight of exactly what I'd asked Santa for!

I'd never in my life wanted to see a cock more than I did right now.

As if I were performing a sacred ritual I methodically undid his belt, unbuttoned his waistband, unzipped his fly... and then slowly pulled down his pants.

I began to reach for his boxers, but he asked sternly, "What were my instructions?"

"To undo your belt and pull down your pants," I answered, staring at a semi hard cock framed rather perfectly within the pouch of his Saxx boxer briefs... it was definitely long and thick... just like I'd imagined. And flatteringly, it was growing slightly.

"You need to obey my instructions precisely," he instructed. "No deviations."

"Yes sir," I said, staring at his cock that was both hidden, but its shape was displayed so deviously by this black underwear.

"What do you want?" he asked.

"To see your cock," I answered.

"Why?"

"I don't know, I just feel a great need to see it, to stroke it, to suck it, and to be fucked by it," I answered, determined not ever again to hide from him my natural submissiveness and my lust for him. I would be his obedient submissive because I needed to be his obedient submissive.

"You understand this training commits you to one hundred percent mindless obedience," he warned.

"Yes sir, I'm ready to do whatever you tell me to," I affirmed.

"Without hesitation?"

"Yes, sir, to the best of my ability."

"Stand up and remove your skirt," he ordered.

I stood up, slowly unzipped, and then allowed my plaid skirt just to slide down my legs to the floor.

"Now your blouse."

"Yes sir," I repeated, as I unbuttoned each button slowly, trying to be sexy. I opened my blouse and then shrugged it off.

"Nice, very nice," he approved, as he looked me over in my sexy lingerie.

"I bought all of this for you," I said. "As well as several more outfits."

"Why?"

"Because I knew you'd like it."

"I see," he said, as he walked around me and admired me from behind. "Back down on your knees."

"Yes sir," I said, and I dropped back to my knees, but didn't turn around to face him, since he didn't tell me to.

"Good girl. Turn around," he said as he walked to the bed and sat down.

"Yes sir," I obeyed, then crawled one step towards and then stopped abruptly.

"Good catch," he approved. "Now you may crawl to me."

I did, feeling so humiliated (and thus excited) from allowing myself to be treated like a well trained dog. Well okay, I wasn't very well trained yet, but I was learning.