P01E03

When I entered the living room again, the atmosphere had changed completely. My uncle sat in one of the comfy chairs, a cigar between his fingers, and a classical, printed newspaper in his lap. He was still dressed for work, in a dark blue suit, of which he had only loosened the tie and the top button of his shirt. He was an unremarkable man with average features, except for his eyes, which examined me with intense clarity.

Next to the chair, by his feet, was Marcy. She was kneeling on the floor, with only a small cushion under her knees. Her spine seemed completely vertical, but her neck was bent, and her eyes were gazing at the floor in front of her. She didn’t look up when I entered the room.

She was dressed completely differently than in the afternoon. The gown had gone, and she wore a …. garment?... made of leather and shiny metal. It covered only small areas of her breasts and loins. A small triangular piece of leather, less than 4 inches wide, only partly covered her pubic mound; it was kept in position there by leather straps, running around the side of her hips, with buckles to keep them in place. They were strained pretty tight, they visibly cut into her skin.

Her bra seemed to be reversed: it didn’t cover her nipples, but encircled them, as if it was holding them in a grip of black leather. More buckled straps tightly circled her body to keep it in place. The pressure made the breasts stand up and outward. The nipples and the skin immediately around it remained naked. Both nipples stood to attention, perky and stiff.

There was a band around her neck; the only word for the garment I could come up with was “collar”. I had never seen a woman wear a collar before. It was made of shiny black leather, about two inches wide, closed by a buckle on the back of her neck, with two metal rings attached to it on either side. More leather girded her wrists and ankles, in a similar style to the collar. The cuffs weren’t attached to anything, but more metal rings made sure they easily could be. All together, she looked absolutely ravishing and enticing.

Uncle Howard remained silent as my eyes were exploring the alluring image of his wife, just a faint smile dancing across his lips. When I finally managed to tear my hungry eyes away from Marcy and looked at him, he said: “Yes, she’s quite something, isn’t she? I’m so glad I found her! She’s obedient, she’s attractive, and she’s horny... what more does a man want? “

Maybe I hadn’t imagined things. Maybe I had read all the signals exactly right. Maybe tonight was the night that I was going to get laid for the very first time in my life.

Howard said: “But, where are my manners? Sit down, my dear boy, sit down! Do you want a drink?”

“How about a coke? “

“A coke? You’re 18 years old now, surely you can take something stronger than a coke! A beer, maybe? I’m drinking whisky myself; would you care to join me? “

I had never had a glass of whisky before… my father didn’t drink strong liquor so I couldn’t steal it from the cupboard, and I had never come across it anywhere else, either. I nodded.

His tone changed into a commanding style: “Get him a drink, Marcy. Not the blend thing - the malt.”

Marcy didn’t get up to comply with his request. Instead, she bent forward from her kneeling position until she was on all fours; and like that, she crawled to a cabinet by the wall with glasses and bottles on it. Her ass stuck up proudly as she did so, naked except for one leather strap running through the depth of the cleft, tight enough to push both buttocks apart a bit. Apart from a shocking abomination in my teenage moral frame, she was a pleasure to watch as well. I tried to keep my face as neutral as possible, but I probably failed there, and I couldn’t keep from staring mesmerized at those wiggly ass cheeks as she crawled.

As she was pouring the drink, Howard said to me: “Of course, you have to be strict with a slut like this. In general, a girl like her has a very energetic disposition, but it can easily subvert into self-destructiveness and uncontrolled, erratic behavior. Descending some stairs into an abyss of immorality. You probably saw that with some of the girls in your class, didn’t you?”

“I… think so. There was a girl called Simone. She dated a lot of boys, and they… well, you know, did things. The boys would brag about it, but also denounce her for it. After they had their way with her, they didn’t want to be with her again. I don’t know why, exactly.”

“Yes, that’s what I mean. She probably became demanding and dominating towards them… manipulating them into having more sex with her, and not even realizing that it just doesn’t work like that. A slut needs to be taught to be submissive, to transfer control of her urges to a loving man, and allow him to decide on the way to employ her unique powers. She needs to be tutored into the discipline and self-control which is needed to enjoy this gift, to use it in a meaningful and liberating way. She can not do that on her own; she needs a man to guide her towards a balanced control of her hornification. “

Marcy crawled back with the drink, looking even more marvelous now that holding the glass made her ass wiggle even more. She didn’t show any sign of the ravenous fits any of the women in my home town would have gone through when their husband had talked about them in such a way.

Howard continued: “Like delicious Marcy here. She had quite some problems when she was younger, you know… low self-esteem, eating disorders, even a suicide attempt at some point… all caused by the pursuit of sex too eagerly, and then being rejected by the men she targeted for being too direct and explicit. All that has gone now. She feels healthy and good, and enjoys the rules and discipline I subject her too. Isn’t that so, Marcy?”

She had just returned to her kneeling position, by his feet on the floor. She looked up at him with a face full of adoration, and just said: “Yes, Sir.”

“I told you to get ready for when I got home... so, did you drill yourself properly, and prehornify for us? “

“I did, Sir.”

“ And now you are like what… very horny? Like, you would want to have sex immediately? “

She lowered her head and meekly looked at the floor, and whispered: “I would, Sir. Please.”

“But you manage to keep that under control, right? You have submitted to me, and you passed control of any action about that to my authority, isn’t it so? “

“Yes, Sir.”

“Not allowed to touch your own pussy without my permission? Completely dependent on me to play with you?”

“Indeed, Sir.” Her voice was soft, but without any hesitation or ****.

“So how does that make you feel? “

“The fire in my loins is there, all the time. But it doesn’t feel as if it should be quenched all the time anymore. I just cherish the heat, and await your decision on what to do with it, when and how to stoke it up, and humbly accept your decision on whether release is allowed or denied… It is with me all the time, but it isn’t a violent disrupter anymore, making me do impulsive and irresponsible things. My arousal has become my companion, a dear and caring friend, giving me joy and strength at the same time. Right now, I am as happy as I have ever been in my entire life. You have taught me how, and I am forever grateful to you for that. And it makes me feel proud and glad that I can repay it to you with my servitude and submission to your will. “

She hadn’t looked at either of us as she spoke, her eyes fixed on the floor about two feet before her. The declaration kept hanging in the air after she finished, a pledge of loyalty and devotion to him. Her words sounded honest and straightforward, and at the same time they were completely incomprehensible; I had never ever met a woman who would utter words like that. Still they conveyed a glance into a different world, a world of liberty and delight, of unlimited sensuality and possibility.