Journal of Discipline and Desire

by Laurie Mann

  “Which one?”

  “This one, it’s in your handwriting so you ought to know.”

  “Let’s see.” Monica passed him the paper via Charles. Why did Monica have it in the first place? “It’s from ‘The Russian’s.’ For diesel.”

  “Why use cash though, Rock? Cards are better aren’t they? Who’s The Russian?” My curiosity had been aroused. Besides, pussy’s enjoying his lambasting of Charles and Monica.

  “He’s got a garage outside Shkoda, came from Moscow originally, hence The Russian.” His tone had returned to its quiet authority. “Buys his fuel in Leks, the local currency. Sells in Deutsche Marks, which are good for the black market. He makes a good living and I buy cheap fuel. Works out at twenty five per cent the price of the card when you take into account the black market and currency rates, so it’s best not to question too much, or ask for receipts - except blank ones of course.

  “Now, listen all of you. And you, little miss smug.” He glared at Lisa for the first time. “You do your jobs and I’ll do mine. Mine happens to involve other countries, different cultures. I work those differences to this company’s advantage and more importantly for my safety. I am not going to spend my time every trip explaining what’s been going on. I am certainly not interested in bits of paper that will make your tiny little suburban minds feel better. And, before you get back on your high horses, the only reason you have the stuff made in these countries is cost - so you are responsible for the low wages. You get the job done as cheap as possible and so do I. No difference really. Either you accept the way I work or I’m off, but I’ll tell you now, get somebody who doesn’t know the job and it will cost you a grand a trip more or you’ll lose a load and what’s that? Half a million?” It was Rock on his soapbox, but he meant it. It only increased my need for him to take hold of me like he’d taken over the meeting.

  The silence was embarrassing. Rock had said his piece and sat impassively. Lisa looked in love, the little bitch, while Charles and Monica were crestfallen. They had looked so sure when they came in that Rock was on the way out, but now had the look of defeat. I’ve got to stop this feud and give people their pride back, or the business will so easily go wrong. Rock, I’m so glad you had the answers but what other problems have you caused? Everybody was waiting for me and, as head of the company, it was my responsibility to answer Rock’s final comment. There was no doubt he was staying in my mind but it didn’t feel right going against loyal and trusted staff. He’d left me no choice though, in twenty minutes he’d not only decimated their arguments but left no doubt that they weren’t to mess with him again. He’s wonderful.

  “I think all the questions have been answered, thank you, Rock. Unless there are any more I think we can call it a day.” Obviously there was no fight left in Charles and Monica as they sloped off but Lisa flashed me a broad ‘told you so’ smile as she left. Rock remained motionless. “Yes, Rock?”

  “You’ve disappointed me.” He stared me straight in the eye. Hard, steely eyes trapped mine. Rabbit in headlights.

  “Oh?” The office suddenly felt hot despite the decidedly cool atmosphere.

  “You were on their side. You didn’t trust me, only Lisa did. You owe me. Dinner at eight. Royal Oak. Don’t disappoint again.”

  “What if I’ve other plans?”

  “Change them.”

  It was happening. At last I was being ordered. I felt the quiver run down my spine to my jellied knees but still a small voice said ‘don’t give in completely, make at least some sort of stand.’ I fought the tremor and found as much sarcasm as possible.

  “I suppose you’ll be telling me what to wear next, as well?”

  “Blue dress.”

  With that he was gone. Two forty-five. Heart thumping. Other plans? Washing hair, that’s all. Blue dress? None suitable. Want this to be special. Time for shopping.

  “Andrea, I’m off now. Reach me on the mobile if you need to.”

  The shops were quiet. A dress, that one, perfect cut just above the knee in midnight blue satin and sequins like stars against an inky sky. Classy, yet not too dressy and a lovely fit, perfect. Underwear? Yes a special night - and this was, very. Need to feel special. Silk? Yes, go on, spoil. Matching set, bra, panties, suspenders. Expensive but so what? Use the plastic. He’s worth it and finally on the hook so I can’t let him off now. Look good - feel good.

  Ready. Checked mirror for umpteenth time. Perfect, dress looked wonderful, make-up understated but just right. Brushed hair yet again. Only six forty so plenty of time. Checked handbag. Needed toilet again, must be nerves. Why? Dinner with Rock before. Not like this. This he’s ordered, he’s finally done it, taken control. Can’t let him down now. Time to go, chilly autumn air. Picked up coat, half on. No. Blue dress he said. Leave coat, show him that if he says blue dress then that’s it. Felt good. I’ll show him I’m a good slave. The excitement was much I can hardly think let alone write.

  Royal Oak and an almost empty car park. Pussy knows. Heart pounded nerves into a lump stuck in my throat as I checked hair and make-up yet again in the vanity mirror. Air felt sharp after cosiness of the car making instant goose bumps and I shivered uncontrollably. Strange in the bar wearing just flimsy dress and very conspicuous as eyes devoured me inquisitively but I didn’t care. It’s what Rock wanted and I felt so proud. There he was, far corner, always likes corners.

  “Hello, Rock.”

  The paper lowered and his eyes lingered at my ankles before moving slowly upwards, stripping me bare, making me shudder under his gaze and pussy pulsate. Wait ‘til you see what’s under the dress. His eyes fixed mine as he pushed the empty glass across table.

  “You’re late. Tap water for you. Put mine on the tab.”

  Clock above the bar showed barely three minutes late.

  “Ice and lemon, Madam?”

  “Yes, please.” Still thinking about three minutes. Just three minutes and he’d noticed. Like pussy’s noticed.

  My eyes caught his over the rim of my glass. That look. Cold steel that defied me to drink so I put my glass back onto table. Did he expect me to wait permission? Do I have to search his eyes for approval for everything? Yes please. Flustered as adrenaline raced. Watched his fingers scoop the ice and lemon from glass and drop into ashtray. Why? My eyes begged the question while my mind wondered how many other eyes were watching.

  “I don’t recall mentioning ice and lemon.”

  No emotion. Just quiet voice, cold eyes with deliberate unhurried fingers that confirmed control absolute. Madam used the whip - Rock his eyes. Madam needed fear to control - Rock just needed ... well ... just to be Rock.

  Suddenly the atmosphere, electric and exciting changed. Eyes less intense allowed surging pleasure to abate.

  Fellow diners chatted, rich aromas wafted and black and white images floated from table to table. Three courses and wine slipped by in a trance as Rock entertained. His easy and relaxed trademark dry humour seduced and, all too soon, coffee was served.

  “It’s time for home.” I whispered, my face imploring him to respond how pussy craved. “Early start tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow’s cancelled. You’re not going home tonight.” He beckoned the loitering waitress. “More coffee please.” She knew, I could tell from her eyes and the way she caught mine while Rock surveyed her cleavage. Pussy giggled at the public exposure.

  Rock’s cottage was at the end of the short drive so full of bubbling excitement. Still clean and tidy?

  “Make some coffee, then wait in the middle of the room.” He disappeared up the stairs. How I made coffee I don’t know, my mind whirled so fast. Middle of room, he said, stand, wait. Where’s he gone? What’s he doing? Only a couple of tense, exciting minutes had passed before his eyes were boring into mine and exploring my heaving breast and trembling legs.

  “You may remove your dress.” N
o choice, his tone stripped me of that. Fumbled, but eventually stood self-consciously, hopefully alluringly in racy, lacy lingerie, desperate to be ordered to his bed. Could he see the damp patch making the silk mould itself around my throbbing lips? Why no interest? I know I look good. Always kept in trim. Waiting was intolerable. Damn you, Rock. Notice me!

  Watched him stand up, prowl around expressionless and my skin crawled with the dancing of a million ants. Touch, please touch. He just sat down again making my heart feel heavy - rejected.

  “Delusions of slavery, eh?”

  Heart pounded against ribs, eyes transfixed by his. What did he mean? Delusions? I not only want slavery but need it. To be his slave. Didn’t know what to say. Words wouldn’t come.

  “Your eyes have it - maybe.” He continued, quiet, like a kindly uncle. “I don’t believe you understand the reality though. A slave is owned.” Too much adrenaline flooded my senses sending me dizzy, my head spinning faster than any top. “Totally owned.”

  “I know.” I could only stammer.

  “Do you?” Couldn’t control my breathing. Confused. I do know, from Madam. You know it too, journal, don’t you?

  “A slave is proud, doesn’t need fancy lingerie. Has the confidence not to need help from titillating bits of lace.”

  “I thought you’d like it, I was only trying to please.”

  “I know.” His tone softened. “But you were told blue dress, no mention of underwear. I don’t expect you to wear what isn’t mentioned. I appreciate your efforts and you look good. Very good. That isn’t the point. You’re out of your depth, you’ll get hurt and I’ll not be responsible for that. Put your dress on and go home. I’ll say nothing more about tonight. If you’re embarrassed you can have my resignation.”

  Devastation. Rejection. I knew I looked good and I know I can be a slave. What’s he seen that he doesn’t? I can’t let him go. Not now. Not when so close. Think, Frankie, think fast.

  “Because I tried to please you. To look my best. You’re going to throw me out?” I tried to sound hurt, but in truth it was confusion, not hurt I felt.

  “No. I’m stopping this going any further because you don’t realise what you are asking.”

  “What do you mean? I’ve been a slave to boyfriends before. I’ve read books.” I could feel my argument weaken by the word. If only I could find the right words. I’d pleased Madam and I knew I could please Rock. “Every Master’s different, I can learn your ways.” My eyes implored him to change his mind.

  “Go and make more coffee, while I think.”

  Kettle takes an age. Make sure coffee’s perfect. Remember to stand where he said. Must show I want to be - can be - his.

  I stood, relaxed as I could with eyes devouring me. Tried reading his face but nothing, not even a hint. Impossible suspense.

  “What is it, Rock? Something’s changed.”

  “It’s difficult. Maybe you’ve got it, maybe you haven’t. Ownership has to be total, you see. I think you’d be safer playing, like you do now.”

  “I don’t play. The ropes are real enough. The cane hurts real enough.”

  “You still don’t understand, do you? You’ve had some fun, probably called it sessions, I shouldn’t wonder. Slavery is different. Real. Permanent. Total. You can’t put it neatly back into its box when you finish with it. It’s there all the time. Never leaves you.”

  His every word sparked new fire, further confirmation that I needed him.

  “You could teach me.”

  “It’s not that easy. Once you cross the line, there’s no going back. I’ll compromise. Lead you to that line but you must spend the time I’m away next deciding whether or not to step over it. Only you can make that choice, your commitment must be absolute. More than that it has to be natural. Now, put your dress on and go home, or stay. Your choice but if you stay, it’s on my terms.”

  He resumed the quiet authority that so excited. I couldn’t go. I certainly didn’t need three weeks of thinking time. I already knew. Whatever he said I knew that Madam was real and not playing. I know what I need.

  “I’m not going home.”

  Nothing, just steely eyes searching my face. Will he bind me? Whip me? Take me as he pleases? All of those please, and more.

  “Face the mirror.” I turned, suddenly embarrassed, acutely aware of my lingerie.

  “What do you see?”

  “I don’t understand.” Searched the face, my face, staring back at me but found no help.

  “I see disobedience. Underwear is only permitted when I order it. When you removed your dress, you should have been naked. Do you see nudity in the mirror?”

  “No, Sir.” All slave’s call their Masters Sir, don’t they? Why do such quiet tones sound so...so...uncompromising?

  “What do you see then? There’s no need for sir, we’re not playing now.”

  “Disobedience.” I was beginning to see the meaning behind his questions just as pussy felt the presence in his voice.

  “I see no confidence.”

  “I am confident, always have been.”

  “So confident that you felt you wouldn’t look good enough without pretty packaging. Is that right?”

  “Yes.” I was beginning to feel he knew me better than I did.

  “You may take it all off.” In seconds I was naked. “I don’t see pride in the mirror, do you? Look at you, slouching, hiding. STAND STRAIGHT. SHOULDERS BACK. ARMS STRAIGHT AT SIDES. HEAD UP. That’s better.” His softness had turned to barks that jerked me into position. I felt he was opening my psyche, stripping my mind as he had my body.

  “Some more coffee, I think.”

  More coffee, come on kettle. Flames licked pussy despite the freezing draught. Old houses always seem draughty, icy and biting inflamed and aching nipples. Mind numb. Not like Madam’s ‘do this, do that’. What next? Too late to back out. Said I’d stay so couldn’t leave. So different, the way he said ‘you may’ and ‘I think’, like I have a choice when really the only choice was to leave or stay.

  “Come here. On your knees.” He pointed to floor and I knelt within his grasp. Please. Must remember to keep my back straight, arms rigid, head high and, most of all, show him the pride he wants and I felt because I remembered. It’s easy, he’s making it sound hard because he doesn’t know me but I’ll show him. How can such a small thing like remembering make one feel so good?

  “Cross the line, Francesca, and I own you.” His use of my name surprised and sharpened my attention as I sensed the importance of his words.

  “I know.”

  “In three weeks I will control you. Totally. Your dress, hair, make-up.”

  “Yes.” I had to interrupt. Had to say something to break the frisson his voice had created.

  “Don’t interrupt. You will speak when answering direct questions or when permitted to converse. Once a week you will be permitted fifteen minutes to air your opinions, make any requests. Understand?”

  “Yes.”

  “Your bladder and bowels will be trained to empty at allocated times.” The shudder swept through me and Rock’s smile told me it had been all too obvious. Surely he can’t be serious about controlling even my toilet? But he was. His voice told.

  “I shall take your orgasm. Your pleasure will be mine to give only when earned. At no other time will you succumb, no matter how great the need.” I had to squirm, couldn’t help it. His quiet but oh so sure tone was exciting pussy to distraction defying the knowledge that relief was only at his behest. Keeping still only made it worse. Bladder felt full. Drawn attention to it, that’s why. Full bladder excited pussy made bladder feel fuller excited pussy more made ...

  “You weren’t told you could move.”

  Couldn’t help it. Harder I tried the harder it was not to. Pussy didn’t help. So hard keeping fing
ers from pussy. Concentrate. Arms straight, back straight, head high.

  “Pubic and underarm hair is not permitted. Legs will be kept smooth.” His easy, dulcet tones continued. Driving the passion that surged within. With just his eyes and quiet voice, Rock had excited more than any touch. Ooh, my head swum, thoughts and breathing united in tiny excited gasps. Never in my fantasies had I found such delicious frustration.

  Reading a magazine, he was reading a magazine! Like I’m wasn’t even there. After all he’d said. Had to be testing. Didn’t move. Bit lip. Needed to pee. Shuddered. Shoulders ached, back ached, clenched fists. Relaxed shoulders.

  “Don’t move, I said”

  The response was instant so he had to be watching from the corner of his eye, not reading at all. Testing and waiting my slightest move as my hips squirmed against my bladder’s pressure. I felt hot and breathless as the juice dribbled down my quivering thighs. My face burned but despite my bladder about to give way I was thirsty. Mouth dry, I bit my lip harder and my mind spun. Knees hurt as well, the carpet far too rough. Couldn’t last much longer, but pussy needed the relief that was forbidden, except when Rock says. Please now. Tried thinking of work, anything to distract from pain and growing pleasure. Pussy knows and is determined to get me into trouble with Rock. Dug fingernails into my palms, hoping the pain would distract but it was too late. It was coming. It couldn’t, could it? He hadn’t even touched me, but it was. I could feel it, the familiar and normally oh so welcome dizziness. Just his eyes and voice and the pleasure was rolling in like waves whipped by the storm and nothing I could do to stop it. The floor moved and swayed like a boat deck and beads of sweat tickled my nose. Felt the sweat running down my tummy, aiming for pussy before it caught in my pubes, saved, until my wet, traitorous hairs let the determined little bead through towards pussy. I was fast losing my battle to keep still and my head spun, oh how it spun as I trembled and shook the bead onto pussy’s lips. It was happening, with nothing I could to stop it. I needed it so much but couldn’t have it, Rock said so. I had to keep fighting it, stop it but fighting made it even worse. Catch 22 again. Inevitable it trickled onto my clit, tickled and ....