Returning Home

On the drive home, Mark explained that I was now his submissive, his property, his slut, and that he would use me as he saw fit. He also mentioned that he would arrange 'appointments' with others, without question, for them to use me as well. Sometimes it would be one-on-one, and other times there might be multiple participants. He clarified that our relationship was BDSM in nature, specifically focused on Dominance and Submission. He would take the role of the Master, and I was to obey him as the submissive. I agreed without hesitation.

He reassured me that if I ever felt uncomfortable with anything, I should tell him immediately, as my well-being was paramount to the relationship. His words made me feel even more at ease, eager to please, knowing he would always take care of me. With a smile, he reached into his jacket pocket and handed me a black collar.

"From now on, you must always wear this as a symbol of my ownership. Don’t worry, Andrew won’t have any idea what it means," he said.

I smiled, taking the collar from his hand, and fastened it around my neck. We talked for hours about the details of our relationship, the boundaries, the rules, and I agreed with everything. The experiences I’d had so far were thrilling, and I couldn’t wait for more. Before long, we arrived at my house. Mark pulled into the driveway, got out, and helped me with my bag. I thanked him for looking after me, and winked at him for the "other" things, which made him smile knowingly.

I waved him off and, once he was gone, opened the door to the house. Andrew was coming down the stairs from his office, smiling when he saw me. I barely acknowledged him.

"Hi, honey. How was the seminar? Everything go okay?" he asked.

I met his gaze with a stern expression. "It would have been a complete waste of time if it weren’t for Mark looking after me. I would have gone insane with boredom. Thanks for abandoning me."

"But honey, I had reports to finish. You know that," he replied, his tone slightly defensive.

"Whatever," I muttered, clearly unimpressed with his constant prioritization of work over me.

Andrew’s eyes flickered to my neck, a puzzled look crossing his face. "What’s that around your neck? That’s new."

"Oh, this?" I replied casually. "I picked it up at a shop near the seminar. Nice, isn’t it?"

"I don’t like it. Take it off," he demanded, his voice firm, as though I were still his trophy wife to control.

"Absolutely not. I’ll wear it whenever I want." I brushed past him, heading upstairs with my bag in hand. As I entered our bedroom, I began unpacking, placing my worn clothes in the laundry basket. The plug inside me shifted slightly as I moved, sending a tingle up my spine. If only Andrew knew what I had been up to. He wouldn’t like that either. But I had no intention of removing the collar—ever. I was owned now, just not by Andrew.

As I sorted through the laundry, my thoughts returned to the last two days: the gangbang, being owned, swallowing cum, eating it mixed with food, being pissed on, even drinking it and being pissed inside. The memories sent a rush of excitement through me. There was no shame, only an intense craving for more. I couldn't wait for Mark to contact me again. We had exchanged numbers, and he had instructed me to download a discreet app to my phone. It was password-protected, so no one could open it without my permission.

Suddenly, my phone buzzed. I reached into my pocket and saw it was a message from the app. Mark had texted me.

"Hey," the message began. "Just wanted to say thank you for that last favour you did for me. It really helped smooth things over, and I appreciate how you handle everything so seamlessly."

A small smile crept onto my lips as I read his words. He was always polite, even when hinting at the deeper nature of our relationship. I took a deep breath and, after a moment of thought, carefully typed my reply.

"Of course," I wrote. "I’m glad it worked out. I’ve been thinking about our next meetings. I’m really looking forward to them."

I hit send, feeling the familiar rush of anticipation. Mark understood the hidden meaning in my words, just as I understood the game we were playing. A moment later, my phone buzzed again with his response.

"Good to hear. I’ve got some things in mind for when the timing is right. You know how to prepare."

My breath caught slightly. Preparation was always key, part of the unspoken agreement between us. I could already picture our next meeting and the intensity that always lingered between us when we were alone. I typed back quickly.

"Absolutely. I’ll be ready. Just say the word."

The silence around me seemed to deepen as I waited for his reply, the tension growing even through the screen. When the next message arrived, it was calm and composed, as always, yet charged with that familiar sense of control.

"Perfect. Discretion as always. Talk soon."

I smiled to myself, the thrill still coursing through me as I typed my final message for the night.

"Always. I can’t wait."

The rest of the evening went as it usually did. Andrew was busy in his study, preoccupied with his spreadsheets and numbers. I prepared dinner for us both. When the food was ready, he came downstairs, grabbed his plate, and returned to his work without a word. He was still annoyed with me for not doing what he asked, but that no longer mattered to me. He would have to get used to me asserting myself. The collar wasn’t coming off.

After eating, I washed my dishes and settled in front of the TV, finding a mindless movie to pass the time. It was mildly entertaining, but mostly I was lost in thought, wondering what Mark had in store for me next.

Later, I got ready for bed, slipping between the sheets with a satisfied smile. As I drifted off to sleep, my mind swirled with memories and anticipation, eagerly awaiting Mark’s next command.