As I walked into the room, she slowly wrestled herself from the chains of sleep. Dazily she looked about, gasping as she attempted to take in her surroundings. Blindfolded in the darkness on her knees with shackles about her wrists and ankles, she remained in her position like a good girl. The darkness of the room, pierced only by the faint glow of the strands of LED lights about the walls, was complete. I smiled as I saw her kneeling there moving slowly back and forth wiggling, testing the bonds of her constraints, and trying to see that which she could not behold. She knew she was trapped, she was bound and gagged, and she was perfection. “But I have never truly been in a scene in which I felt completely helpless. To me, your limit as a Dom is much nearer to vanilla than that of myself as a sub. I trust you completely and want to experience more, and I do not feel as though you would, or even could, push me past my limits.” Amber confided to the living room. Sitting on the couch, Amber barely made eye contact with me, though we sat directly across from each other. It felt as though she was ashamed to admit such a dark secret especially in front of our contemporaries. A truth which I could not deny, she needed more than I could give. Jen, sitting to Amber’s right, turned to look toward her hidden face. Mike, cool as always, reclined on his sofa, that I shared at present, and crossed his legs. He drew a long breath and looked into the eyes of Jen. I could barely tell at the time, but this was a sign that they had been here before. Not with us, but with themselves. They were journeymen to us as apprentices. They nodded slowly to each other as I opened my mouth. “And I admit as much,” I readily confessed to the room. “After all, it is hard to be a caring husband and at the same time be the Dom that you want, but more importantly that you need.” I slammed the door behind me as I started to cross the room towards her. She jumped at the sound as I moved toward her slowly, methodically. I went to her side and stood there for a second, watching her quake. Exposed in the air of the room, her skin glistened in the low, dim light of her cellar. Her brown hair and ample curves glowed as they trailed from her neck all the way down to her toes, flowing with the beauty of an elegant river. I looked her over again, admiring the form in front of me, all the while accepting the raging animal inside myself. She wanted to be used, and I wanted to use her. I wanted to force her to do things I had never done, and that she had never done. Carnal things, of longing and desire. The sort of animalistic things that no caring husband should ever do to his loving wife. With the voice modulator on, I whispered to her, “Good evening, whore.” She moaned back through the ball gag in acknowledgment. I reached down slowly between her legs and found the rod I had placed earlier. Deliberately, I pulled the shaft off the bed between her spread legs, making sure to ever so gently rub over her sex. She cooed like a dove and the smooth shaft tugged at her. Gently, I slid the rod along her body, probing every nook and cranny, leaving no stone unturned. My member throbbed in time with her moans of pleasure. Placing the rod on the bed beside her, I reached forward and undid the ball gag. She gasped as she was able to close her mouth for the first time in several minutes. “Rule 1,” the low raspy voice produced by the modulator sent a shiver down her spine. She could not tell it was me, for the first time in all of our time together, I could truly see how she really acted. “You obey, or you are punished. Major infractions are breaking of these rules, as set forth, in a repeated fashion and will be punished with a hard smack. The hardness is as such,” I grabbed the rod and smacked down against the bed beside her. She almost jumped as the rod made contact with the soft surface of the bed. “All other infractions, including direct orders from me, will be punished at one-quarter strength. However, should you decide to consistently refuse to follow orders, you will be punished in an increasingly hard manner. Do you agree to and understand this rule?” “Yes.” I listened as she spoke to see if I could detect a sense of hesitation in her voice. There was none. “How very interesting,” I thought to myself, “when as your husband I would punish you at far less that even a quarter strength, you cringe and want nothing to do with the punishments. But here, you welcome them, almost defiantly.” “But wait, maybe she knows it is me and that I would never hit her that hard….maybe she knows this is a game. If she does think this is me and just a game, she is in for a rude awakening.” “Rule 2,” I began again in a low voice, “The first and last word out of your mouth will be Sir. Do you understand and agree?” “Sir, yes Sir.” “Rule 3,” I continued with greater volume, “You will not speak unless I speak directly to you and ask for a response. Do you understand and agree?” “Sir, yes Sir.” “Rule 4, you will refrain from orgasm unless directly requested by me. Do you understand and agree?” “Sir, yes Sir.” She was starting to quiver on the bed. I could sense the fluids beginning to build up inside and out. “Rule 5, you will determine your word for stopping the scene completely. What is your word?” “Sir, red Sir.” “Well, let us hope that you will not need to use it this evening. Rule 6, you will determine your back off word. When the scene is becoming too much and you need a minute to collect yourself. What is your word?” “Yellow” “Excuse me?” She clenched up for a second and looked toward my voice in the room. “Sir, yellow Sir.” “Much better. Let that be your warning. You will not get another.”