My Wish Was Her Command

by Dan Moran

  “Yes,” I whispered again, kissing her and shutting off the light. In the darkness of our bed, I knew that I belonged to Justine, and I was happy.

  Untitled

  Chapter 8

  A couple of weeks and several good hard spankings later, on a slow afternoon at work, I received an e-mail from Justine that warned: Make sure no one’s around when you look at these. There were several image attachments. I glanced casually about my desk and the surrounding cubicles, then opened the first file.

  It was a photo of some guy strapped face down on a bed, naked, his ass showing several red stripes, obviously from a whip, crop, or cane. The next photo showed the crop striking the ass in question, the bare flesh indented at the moment the camera captured the stroke. The ass got redder in each picture, and some new implements were shown. As I looked, getting excited and thinking of Justine doing this to me, I was struck by the thought that there was something strange about the pictures. They were taken from the foot of the bed, at a rather low height, so that I could barely see the top of the guy’s head because the ass cheeks blocked most of the view. Then I realized what was odd about the images: I was the guy on the bed!

  My heart beat faster, and I stood up and looked around again to make sure no one was nearby. Then I gave all of the pictures another look. Yes, that was our bed, and that was the crop that I had bought for Justine, and those were the cuffs and straps that she had bought with the money I’d given her. But where had these photos come from? I e-mailed her back right away to ask about it.

  Her response came quickly. I set up my digital camera on the dresser at the foot of the bed, she informed me. I figured out how to get the timer to take a series of shots at regular intervals. What do you think?

  I wasn’t yet sure what I thought. I was kind of excited, though. After all, these were the sorts of pictures that I used to leave on the computer for Justine to see, to give her ideas about my fantasies. I had fantasized for so long about being in those positions, about being the men in those photos that I found on all of those femdom and F/M spanking sites, and now I had actually made that dream come true. Not only was I now in a real-life spanking and occasionally femdom-type relationship, but I was actually in some erotic photos, filmed while engaged in my fantasy. I smiled and was hard.

  I like them, I replied.

  I’m glad, came her answer. How would you feel about sharing them? I’ve been keeping some of my online friends informed about our progress, and they’re always eager for more info and also for a glimpse. And I personally can’t wait to show off the naked body of my submissive plaything. Naturally, though, I won’t do it without your consent. Think about it for as long as you need to.

  I did. Part of me worried about my naked image being sent into the shared world of electronic reality, to end up who knows where. On the other hand, I did trust Justine, and she would no doubt trust whomever she sent these to. Also, I realized that without my face being in the pictures, no one but Justine or me would actually recognize the room or the bed shown in the pictures. How would anyone know it was me? Furthermore, I thought, even if someone did find these images and know them to be me, I couldn’t be too embarrassed, because the person would have to be looking in certain areas already in order to encounter such images.

  In short, I was fine with it, maybe even a little excited at the prospect, so I wrote Justine and told her she could share the images with whomever she wanted.

  Later that evening, after dinner, Justine told me to sit at the computer with her. She proceeded to open up a few femdom sites that included image galleries which were updated daily. At the very first site, Justine clicked on “Today’s New Pics,” and there I was, strapped face down on the bed and getting my ass cropped. “See?” Justine said with excited glee, pointing at the screen. “Isn’t it great?”

  “Yes, I see. I like it.”

  “I only wish that I were in the shots,” she told me. “I’ll have to figure out a better angle for the next photos.”

  “The next ones?” I asked, getting hard. I was discovering that I had a bit of the exhibitionist in me and was aroused by the idea of appearing on sites like this. The bigger turn-on, though, was feeling yet another layer of Justine’s ownership of me. I loved the idea that since my body was hers, she could not only enjoy it for herself but could also choose to show it off and share it with whomever she chose.

  “That’s right,” she said in a firm tone, looking at me and folding her arms. She lowered her head to glare at me with a look of command, but she was also smiling. “You, my little love toy, are going to be in some more pictures. I want to show off my slave.” My lips parted a little and I was breathing shakily, my dick stiff. She knew how hot she was making me. “Oh yes,” she went on, leaning forward and holding me by the chin. “I will take lots of pictures. Pictures of you naked. Pictures of you tied up. Pictures of you helpless, squirming, gagged. I’ll put the blindfold on you and then you won’t even know what I’m taking pictures of.”

  “Yes?” I said in a shaky whisper. My right hand had come to rest in my lap, pressing against my erection through my pants.

  “Oh, yes,” she whispered, leaning in even closer so that her breath was hot in my face and the smell of her perfume enveloped me. “And I’ll post those pictures on all sorts of sites. Your body will be there for all to see. Thousands of women like me will enjoy the sight of your submissive flesh, and they’ll be inspired to do some of those things to their own husbands and boyfriends.”

  “Whatever you desire,” I said, although we both knew full well that I desired it as much as she did. “I am yours to share as you see fit.”

  Over the next couple of weeks, we photographed our sessions. Mostly it was Justine taking pictures of me. She would bind me in an X with the cuffs attached to the floor and ceiling of our bedroom and then walk around me, photographing me from every angle. She’d whip my naked body with the crop and take pictures while the marks were still fresh. She’d tie me to the bed, face up and then face down, with the nipple clamps on or off, with or without the gag or the collar, and get every angle of these poses, too.

  Aside from tying me up to take pictures, she would make me get into various poses for her. She would order me to kneel, or to lie flat on the floor, or to bend over and stick out my ass like I was begging for a spanking. She would make me kiss her feet and look up at her as she snapped a photo. She would command me to grip my cock and show it off, to fondle my own balls for the camera, giggling perversely as she forced me into these humiliating poses and then captured them for all time with our digital camera. I was hers to command, and she did not let me forget it. Naturally, I loved every second.

  Sometimes I took pictures of her, but she was usually clothed. She would strike various dominating poses, holding the crop in various ways, giving the camera a steely, cold stare. We set up the timer on a number of occasions, too, putting the camera on the floor, on the bed, or on a shelf, trying to frame things so that we’d both show up in the picture. It was more difficult than we’d thought, though. Somehow, the photo would never be centered the way that we had thought, or one of us would be way out of the frame and it would make the rest of the picture look weird. It was a little frustrating; still, I was happy that Justine was getting all the pictures she wanted of me and was posting them for like-minded women everywhere.

  One day at work, Justine e-mailed me to say that she’d pick me up; she wanted us to meet someone for dinner. When she arrived, I got into the car, kissed her, and said, “So, where are we going? And who are we meeting?”

  She named a local steakhouse as our destination, which sounded good to me. Then she told me about the mystery guest.

  “Her name is Diane,” Justine said as she drove. “She helps run an online magazine about dominant women. It’s not like most of the ones we’ve seen though, it’s actually very well done and has a lot of intelligent writing. Also, besides the usual kind of thumbnail gallery for sets of photos, they have photo spreads like a re
al magazine would have, only on web pages. The pictures are large and go together with some running text, which might be a piece of fiction or an interview with a dominatrix or something like that. I’ll show you when we get home. Anyway, it’s a really great site, and it’s geared toward women who do this kind of thing or who want to know more about it. I wish I’d found it sooner.”

  “How did you find it?” I asked, getting an idea about where this was all going.

  “Well, Diane actually contacted me. That’s the exciting part. She saw some of the images we’ve been posting. She sent me an e-mail through one of the femdom groups, and we started chatting a bit. She liked a bunch of our pictures but had some tips about how to take better ones. I explained the trouble we had with the camera and the timer, and she said, ‘Why don’t you have someone else take pictures of the two of you?’ And... well... that’s why we’re meeting her tonight. Not to do anything tonight, but just to meet her, see if we like her, talk about things we might do, ask questions. She’s been doing this a long time and really knows a lot.”

  “So...” I said. “We might be able to get her to take pictures for us? And she might put them on her site?”

  “Yes, I think both of those are possibilities. And I’m sure those aren’t the only possibilities.” She winked at me, and I wondered what she was thinking about.

  When we got to the restaurant and went inside, they told us that Diane had already arrived and was expecting us. A waitress guided us to a booth in a back corner of the place, and I saw a woman sitting alone. Her hair was very black, straight, and fairly short, the ends reaching to a few inches above her shoulders. She had bangs clipped in a neat, even line just above her eyebrows, giving her face a certain darkness. She looked in our direction as we approached, and Justine said, “You must be Diane.”

  Diane stood and shook hands with each of us and said, “Sit down, please.” She was smiling and had a very pleasant manner. I could not place her age, but I knew that she was older than us, maybe 40 or so. The waitress asked about drinks, and we all ordered coffee. Then Diane began.

  “So, I’ve seen some of your photos. Very nice. How long have you been photographing your action?”

  Justine looked thoughtful. “Oh, about... a month, I’d say.” She turned to me. “Does that sound right?”

  “Yes,” I agreed.

  “And how long have you been involved with bondage and domination?”

  “Not all that long,” I replied. “Not even a year, so far. We’re pretty new at it.”

  “But we learn fast,” Justine added. “We’ve come a long way in a short time.”

  “It certainly looks that way,” Diane said.

  “What about you?” I asked her.

  “I’ve been into the scene for a long time. Since high school, actually. I did a lot of experimentation early on and had a lot of help from some good friends and nice people. I’ve been both a domme and a sub, and I still switch. I’m also bisexual and have equal fun playing either role with either gender, or with groups. As for the website, I’ve been helping to run it for about six years now.”

  “Is that what you do for a living?” Justine asked.

  “No. I teach at a college. Sociology, mostly. I’ve got a Ph.D.”

  “Nice,” I said, impressed. “Did you ever include this lifestyle as part of your studies?”

  “Oh, yes. I even discuss it in my classes. It’s a fascinating topic, and a lot of its negative connotations arise from it being seen as a secretive thing, so I’ve always tried to bring it into the light through open discussion. I’m always hoping to foster healthy and open attitudes toward safe, sane, consensual play of various kinds.”

  Our coffees arrived, and we all ordered food and then talked more about all of our backgrounds. Diane was intriguing and intelligent, and her openness made me feel that she was trustworthy. After dinner came and we had moved on to dessert and drinks, we started talking about the details of where we might like to go from that point.

  “Well,” Diane began, “let me first tell you what I had in mind for my own purposes. Seeing your images, I was struck by the real sincerity I saw there, the true love of the situations. Something about the poses and expressions stood out for me. I wanted to set up a photo shoot and take some similar pictures of you two, but with some very nice photography equipment that I have. I’d love to get some high-quality images of you and put them on my site. Justine, you explained to me the problems you were having with the timer on your camera. With me taking pictures, we could get you in a lot more of the shots. We could also shoot video of any scenes you want. You would have a chance to see every picture and review every second of footage before any of it is used. You should feel safe and comfortable in knowing that I won’t use anything without the consent of both of you. Even if it turns out that you completely change your minds after the shoot and don’t want to appear on my site at all, that will be totally fine with me. I’ll give you all the copies of the images, or destroy them, whichever you prefer.”

  “Wow,” I said. “That’s very generous and understanding of you. You wouldn’t be mad at having wasted time and film?”

  She smiled. “Of course not. What you need to know is that I simply enjoy this. I enjoy sex, whether I’m having it, watching it, filming it, or just being around it. I find many forms of sex inherently beautiful and would consider myself honored to be allowed into your home to be part of it in any way. Sure, I’d like some pictures to keep, but that’s secondary. I make my living teaching, not selling photos or running a web site. I run the site out of love. I want to offer people stimulation, advice, and a way to connect—yes, we have a forum on our site, and personal ads. I think the world needs more love, and more positive sexual energy can only help. This is my hobby and my passion, and if I help add to your fun in any way, then I’m happy. I certainly won’t be angry about any decisions you make.”

  “Oh, I just love you,” Justine said. “You have such a good way of putting things. I, for one, would love to have you come over and do a shoot... or maybe even...?” she let the question trail off, looking at Diane and then at me.

  Diane winked at her. “That’s the other part of what I was going to say. I can participate in your activity as much or as little as you like. I find you both attractive, and having sat with you here and talked for a while, I can say that I’m comfortable in your presence and fine with your approach toward sex. If you just want me to take some pictures, that’s fine. If you want me to step in and do other things, that’s fine, too. It’s all up to your comfort level. You might, for example, want my help with some of the bondage restraints, and nothing more. You might want me to give a few spanks of my own. You can say ‘Hands only,’ or require that I keep my clothes on. Or... you might want a full-on threesome. It’s whatever you want and feel okay with. As I said, I’m happy to be part of any of it.”

  “You’re very kind,” I said. “I like how open you are. I think that we can work something out.”

  “Yes,” Justine said, reaching across the table and touching Diane’s hand. “I think that we’d like to have you visit.” The two women looked very intently at each other.

  “What about next Saturday?” Diane asked, and I felt a fluttering in my stomach. It’s really going to happen, I thought. My mouth was dry with nervous excitement, so I took a sip of water.

  “Saturday’s fine with me,” I said.

  “And with me,” Justine said, caressing Diane’s hand.

  “Then it’s settled. I’ll see you both on Saturday. Justine, just e-mail me directions to your place.”

  In the car on the way home, Justine and I talked about how excited we were. She asked what I thought about Diane’s offer. How much should we bring her into things?

  “Well,” I said, “I don’t mind making my body available to her in various ways, if it would turn you on to share.”

  “So you’d be okay with her spanking you? Tying you up? With maybe each of us whipping you, teasing you, all that?”


  “I’m fine with that. I love being at your command, and if you command me to suffer torments at the hands of another woman, then that is what I will do. I will obey you if you tell me to obey someone else. What better way to prove that I am truly yours? You can share me with anyone you want.”

  “My darling pet,” she smiled, stroking my cheek. “What a good obedient husband you are.”

  “Also,” I said, “I noticed that you looked pretty fond of Diane. I just want to let you know that I’m okay with you pursuing that, too. You know what I mean. I won’t feel threatened or jealous or anything. Not that you have to do anything like that, but if you want to, please go ahead and don’t worry that, all slave games aside, I’ll actually be upset.”

  Justine was quiet for a few seconds, thinking about this as she drove. Finally, all she said was, “You know, she is very attractive....”

  Untitled

  Chapter 9

  The dinner with Diane had been on Tuesday night, and we had set things up for her to come over on Saturday. On Thursday evening, I came home from work and found Justine waiting in the living room. She had on a T-shirt and some panties and sat on the couch with her legs spread.

  “Hello,” I said, standing before the couch and grinning.

  “Hello,” she replied, looking up at me. “Get on your knees.”

  I did as she commanded and looked at her expectantly. I was surprised to have the games begin so quickly after I got home, but it made me happy, too.

  “Are you mine?” she asked lovingly. “Do you belong to me? Is your flesh mine to enjoy and to command?”

  “Of course,” I said, my cock stiffening with my submission.

  “Good,” she replied, leaning forward and stroking my head. “I want you to do something for me. I want you to come with me somewhere. I want to do something to your body.”

  At that, I did get a little nervous. “Don’t worry,” she said. “It won’t be permanent; it’s not tattooing or piercing that I have in mind.”