The Interview

"When did you first know you were submissive?"

Baby girl shifted in her seat uncomfortably. She hated these questions. She was a child of the 60s—the decade that changed the world. For women, life was filled with heretofore unimagined opportunity. Baby girl was raised on these dreams. Never once did she doubt that her life would be anything less than everything she wanted. She had prepared and planned for that life. Training, dedication, and raw intellect had molded her into a person of reason, a scientist with a promising career. Professionally, she was advancing understanding of the natural world. Now she was faced with the question that forced her to admit that for years she had no clue as to her own nature. It was almost an admission of failure. Almost.

She looked up into the eyes of the One standing over her. He patted her shoulder gently. She placed her hands flat against her thighs, and took long, even breaths. Yes, she hated this question in particular. Slowly, methodically, she began to speak.

"I have only recently come to understand my submissive nature." The words emerged almost as a sigh. "Throughout my adult life, I have been the dominant force in my personal and professional relationships."

"Successful in the professional realm, the leader in your personal relationships, and yet you claim you are submissive."

People looked at her and saw an impossible dichotomy: a successful, highly educated, professional woman who gave herself over to her One to be controlled in every way imaginable—a toy to be used and played with, a companion to provide comfort and love, a slave to His desire. Her submissiveness wasn't a thing she boasted about or hid, but it was a thing she craved. Baby girl had one focus, and it was not professional advancement, it was to be the ultimate pleasure of her Dom. From the corner of her eye she saw Him smiling. Her heart soared.

"So, why the switch?"

"My personal relationships were in disarray and I had no clue as to why. When I came to know myself, this is what I found."

"And now you accept what you are?" he asked curiously.

"Yes. I accept that I am submissive, that I belong to Michael, and that I will do whatever pleases Him."

"Describe anything?" he asked.

Michael replied in a deadpan. "Martin, baby girl will do anything I ask that doesn't endanger her physically or emotionally. And those things, I would not ask."

"Perhaps," Martin said, "but I doubt it." Baby girl shot a look to kill.

Martin was a wiry man, roughly six foot tall and a bit too skinny for his frame. He wasn't particularly attractive and he had a way of looking at baby girl that made her feel small. His eyes were sullen, his cheekbones protruded over thin, transparent skin. His chin was too pointed. His eyes attacked women, cascading over tits first, ass second. He was fond of boasting that the true value of a woman could be judged with two fingers in her pussy. He looked upon women with the insatiable appetite of one who never truly gets what he wants. Baby girl tried to hide her distaste for his kind.

Michael said, "Baby girl....what do you think of that? Martin doesn't think I you'll obey. He doesn't think I own you."

Michael was the antithesis to Martin. Shorter perhaps, but Michael was much more physically attractive. His broad shoulders and strong arms made baby girl feel safe. His dark eyes were the kindest place she knew. He was a mature man in his early 50s, but no grey belied his age. He was also in exceptional shape. Baby girl loved to run her hands across his chest and trail her fingers down his smooth belly. She even found the way his stomach pooched out just a bit to be insanely cute. He had slim hips and a nice ass, and seeing him in his Levis made her pussy drip. Although he was an intensely private and quiet man, he had a playful streak and his laugh was genuine and hearty. His voice was so sexy, it made baby girl yearn to hike down her panties and fuck.

"Oh, it's not that I think she's incapable. I just don't think it suits her temperament," he clarified.

"Tell Martin, baby girl, do you obey?" Baby girl's heart thumped in her chest. She loved hearing Him call her by name.

"I do, Sir," she said.

"Prove it," Martin said. Baby girl wasn't sure if the comment was directed to her or to Michael. Michael only smiled. Baby girl relaxed...just a little. She didn't have to do anything anyone else commanded...only Michael, and it appeared he would let this challenge slide.

"Martin, that is why we're here. My baby girl will prove that a woman like this can serve. But for now, let's concentrate on questions."

Turning back to baby girl, he asked, "When you met Michael, were you submissive?"

"When I met Michael, I thought I was dominant. For this reason, he initially discouraged me from getting involved with him. Although I suspect he knew what I was from the beginning, he didn't want to alter my life if I wasn't ready to accept. I was quite vocal at that time in my opinion, incorrect I might add, that submissives are weak. I detest weakness—in myself and in others. So I did not allow that I was submissive."

"So he turned you from a dominant to a submissive." Martin smiled. He was trying to push her buttons. Baby girl felt her stomach twist. She didn't like being toyed with by him.

"He did not," she replied. "He showed me that I had a submissive nature. He helped me deal with the difficulties of accepting this about myself. He has shown me the power of submission. Michael has helped me to grow as a person."

"And now he owns you."

"He does."

Baby girl's fingers began to move in a predictable pattern against her thighs. Michael looked at her hands curiously. Baby girl's eyes were fixed on Martin. She repeated each word in her head as her fingers typed against her legs. YOU ARE A FUCKING ASSHOLE, period, space bar, hard return. Over and over her fingers flew. She looked at Martin and smiled.

"You are his sex slave."

"No. I am not a sex slave. I am a submissive."

"Sex slave, submissive, what's the difference?" sneered Martin. "Either way, you attend to all his sexual needs."

"There is a big difference. A sex slave has neither limits nor rights. A submissive has both. As to your comment about his sexual needs, I do attend to all his sexual needs, as He does to mine."

"And what sorts of needs might you have?" His tone caused baby girl to pause. His comment sounded as though he thought subs were sluts—things to be used. She looked at Michael. She longed for a word of reassurance from Him. None was forthcoming.

"My needs are many. First among these is the need to serve my Master. After that, I need to be dominated. I need to be controlled. I need to know and feel His love for me, and like any other woman, I desire sexual release." Michael stood with his arms crossed and smiled gently at her. Martin nodded.

"So your submissiveness is purely sexual. This relationship you have is built on sex."

"No. In nearly every way, our relationship is entirely normal. We talk, interact, relax, enjoy each other's company, make dinner, plan for the future in exactly the way most couples do. The only difference between our relationship and those is that Michael owns me."

"He uses you, you mean."

"No. That is not what I mean. Michael is a caring, sensitive man. It is only because I trust Him with every fiber of my being that I have given myself over to Him. He would never hurt me or allow me to be hurt by any one else or by circumstances. It is a subtle but powerful shift in the way we interact."

"And yet you let him beat you."

"Michael does not beat me. He controls me."

Martin's eyes twinkled. "With a whip...he controls you with a whip."

"No. He controls me with his strength. Not his physical strength, which is obvious to anyone. He controls me with his inner strength. The control a Dom wields over his sub is not the product of any beating."

"Still you let him hit you."

"Yes. He may spank me when I disobey but he rarely does. He has more effective punishments than hitting."

"Like what?" Martin was clearly entering unknown territory.

"He may demand my nudity in his presence to emphasize our respective positions. He might bind me to the bed and make me watch pornography until I become very aroused but am unable to get release. He may blindfold me and tease my body. He may withhold my orgasms. Or He may do worse."

"Such as...." Martin was sitting on the edge of his seat. Baby girl could see that he was getting hard inside his pants. She tried to look somewhere else.

"The worst punishment I can imagine is to be denied His presence." Baby girl hung her head low. She didn't want Michael to know this. Martin was visibly disappointed. He expected some torturous sexual explanation.

"So what are the whips for?"

"The whips, the floggers, the paddles, and other bondage tools are applied erotically." Martin perked up when the conversation returned to sex. She wasn't sure, but baby girl thought she saw his finger begin to move inside his pocket.

"How can a beating be erotic?" he asked.

"I have told you already that they are not beatings," she said, exasperated. Martin was taunting her, but she feared she would pay for that tone. She looked at Michael. He raised an eyebrow.

"I mean that when Michael uses these toys, he is demonstrating his dominance over me. Such demonstrations make me wet with pleasure and are, in my mind, a very erotic form of foreplay. I am not a masochist and Michael respects that. The play may sting, but it does not mark or harm."

"So in order to get hot and wet, you have to be beaten." Baby girl hated the way Martin insisted on talking about beating...as though he were certain that he was the one shedding some insight on her psyche.

"Michael does not need to use these toys to turn me on. His presence excites me."

"He shows up and you get excited."

"Yes."

"How does that work?" Martin deadpanned.

"I know He will let me serve and that arouses me."

"You mean you know he'll let you blow him. You get off on blow jobs."

"I get off, as you so indelicately put it, on serving my Master. I find arousal in anticipating and satisfying his every need." Baby girl had tired of Martin's attitude. She didn't care if Master disapproved.

"But you want to blow him, don't you? He is right here, right now, and you want to suck his dick."

"I do."

Martin looked at Michael.

Michael said, "Baby girl, do you want to suck my dick?"

"Yes, Sir, I do."

"You have been a very good girl. Maybe I should reward you." Michael walked behind baby girl and placed a hand on her shoulder and rubbed it lovingly. He leaned over and scooted a wisp of her hair from the back of her neck and placed a soft kiss there. He whispered to her, "Just a little longer, baby girl. Just a few more questions and then you'll get My reward."

"Right here in front of me...you'll blow him right here in front of me?" Martin was pushing her limits hard.

"If He wishes, yes."

"Why?"

"Because I love my Master. If it pleases Him, it pleases me."

Michael moved in front of baby girl and took her hand, pulling her to standing. He began to unbuckle his belt. Baby girl began to tremble as she took her shirt off. He turned to Martin and said, "baby girl is not allowed to touch me when dressed." Michael waited until she was fully nude. Martin's hand moved to his crotch and he stroked his dick inside his pants. Baby girl got on her knees as Michael finished unbuckling his pants and unzipping them. Baby girl helped him out of his jeans. She rubbed her hands on his thighs as he removed his sweater, shirt, and undershirt. She watched only his eyes.

Martin's eyes were feasting on her—taking in the swell of her breast, the curve of her hip, the rise of her ass. She knew it. Michael knew it as well.

"Baby girl, you may remove my briefs now."

Her fingers slid inside the waistband and she pulled them out and over his hard dick, sliding them down and off his legs. Michael's confidence always aroused baby girl. Here in front of his friend, Michael was neither embarrassed nor uncomfortable. Michael was naked and proud. His dick danced only inches from her face. He was already hard. He took his dick in his hand and stroked it, so near to her face, several times. She felt an incredible surge of wetness moistening her pussy. Her mouth watered. She wanted. She waited, but inside she craved and cried out for his dick.

"Please Master. Please" she whimpered.

"Please what, baby girl?"

"Please let me suck your dick." Her eyes looked upon his dick hungrily.

He rubbed his dick against her cheeks, eyes, and as it touched her lips, she moaned. She felt a sudden tension in her pussy. Her tongue darted out and licked the head all around. One hand raced to cup and cradle his balls. Michael put one hand on her head, stroking her hair lovingly as she licked. Suddenly, He grabbed a fistful of hair and jammed his dick deep in her mouth. She took him in and began her lustful service of his cock. Bathing him in wetness, her lips ringing his shaft, she pulled hard against him. His head fell back. Her entire upper body moved as she sucked. Her tongue slid from side to side beneath his dick, darting out occasionally in a desperate attempt to lick his balls, but his dick was too much. She squirmed to get some relief from the pulsing in her pussy. Her breasts ached. Michael bent down and began to pinch and twist her nipples. All the while, he pulled her mouth back and forth against his cock. His hips began to make tiny circles forcing her tongue across his sensitive head. Baby girl was in heaven. Then abruptly, he pulled out.

"Is My pussy wet, baby girl?"

"It is, Sir," she replied.

"Show me, baby. Put two fingers in My pussy and show me how wet."

Baby girl's hand raced to her pussy, allowing two fingers to slip down either side of her clit on their way. She spread her knees a bit apart and moaned as she jammed two fingers in. She was so needy, she pumped her fingers in and out several times before she could help herself. She stirred the fingers in her wetness. When she pulled them out, a long string of wetness trailed behind them. She held her glistening fingers up for Michael's inspection.

Michael leaned down and put the fingers in his mouth, sucking her slippery juices away.

Baby girl looked over and saw that Martin's pants were open and his hand was stroking his cock. It was rock hard. Not nearly as big as Master's cock. Baby girl thought it was thin and wiry just like Martin.

Michael grabbed her hair again. "Whose whore are you?"

'Yours, Sir."

"Then you look at me, baby girl."

Michael jammed his dick deep into her throat and held her nose against his groin. Baby girl fought the urge to gag. She desperately tried to get air through her nose. None would come. At last, He released her. She gasped. He shoved his dick in her mouth again, this time using her mouth to fuck his cock. She could only allow it to happen. She relaxed her neck and let him take her. Her throat made small squeaking noises as He thrust. Her fingers reached between his legs to caress his balls. Suddenly, she felt them tighten. His strokes became less pronounced. He shoved himself deeper into her throat and held himself there longer. Baby girl was ready when the first pulses of cum arrived. She swallowed hard and fast. Michael groaned softly as he came, his hands pulling her mouth wherever he liked. At last, his grip loosened.

He pulled himself out of her mouth and looked down at her and smiled. Baby girl smiled back. He looked to Martin, who was sitting in the overstuffed chair, his dick still rock hard and exposed. Baby girl noticed that he, too, was not uncomfortable having his obvious arousal known. His cock stood at attention between his legs. His hands, however, were firmly on the arms of the chair as though tied there.

Michael laughed almost imperceptibly.

He pulled baby girl to her feet. "Good girl. Good. Very good. That was nice."

He sat back down on the couch and pulled baby girl into his lap. He began to stroke and caress her shoulders and back. Turning to Martin, he said, "It pleases baby girl to serve as my toy. Doesn't it, baby?" He nuzzled his face against her neck. Baby girl turned and kissed Michael passionately.

Martin looked at baby girl. He admired her soft skin, the gentle fullness of her breasts, the way Michael's dark hands traced the curve in the small of her back.

Baby girl watched Martin idly. His pants were open, and he had undone the buttons on his shirt so that his chest was exposed. She thought he looked extremely pale.

"I'm impressed Michael. You have done a good job with some interesting raw material. I wouldn't have thought it possible. But your little demonstration only proves she is devoted to you. How do you know she really serves?"

Michael took one of baby girl's breasts in his hand. His tongue circled the areolae and the tip flicked against the nipple until it was hard and erect. Baby girl's back arched into his mouth.

"Martin, you were curious about my baby girl. I have shown you that she submits to My will and serves as My pleasure." Michael's one hand played idly in baby girl's hair; the fingers of the other pinched and teased her nipples.

"You said you wanted to learn keep a professional woman. I allowed you to ask anything of My baby girl. You have been given a demonstration of the pleasures that such a woman brings, but still you don't believe. You need to make a choice. You can continue to dominate weak women or you can adopt my method. In either case, I would suggest you change your attitude. You cannot treat a woman of this caliber badly, and subs in general can make your life miserable if you do." Martin did not answer.

Michael smiled at baby girl and kissed her gently. His hand slid up the inside of her thigh until it reached her wet outer lips. The pads of his fingers began to play in the wetness there, rubbing lightly...too lightly. She felt his dick hardening again against her leg. Baby girl's eyes darted worriedly between Martin and Michael. She was undone by Martin's presence during her most intimate moments with her Master. Michael sensed this.

"Shhhh....baby girl," he cooed, "quiet, now."

"Your Master is here."

Martin's presence and the fact that he was staring at her body, watching her respond to her Man, mattered no more. All that matter was the interplay between her and her Master.

Michael held baby girl in his lap. His arm encircled her waist, his lips sucking and playing with her nipple, and one hand swirling in the vast wetness between her legs. At last, he pulled her from his lap and directed her to the get on all fours. He moved her ass around until it faced Martin. Standing to the side, he began to caress her ass, one hand pinching and pulling each of her nipples in turn. Baby girl's back arched, opening her pussy lips wide.

She heard Martin gasp.

Michael's hand slid down the crack of her ass until it reached her now sopping pussy. She gasped when two fingers invaded her. She spread her knees slightly and began to rock back and forth against his hand. Her pussy was hungry for more.

"That's it baby, fuck Master's fingers."

She heard some commotion behind her and looked over her shoulder just in time to see Martin removing his pants. His legs spread wide; she could see his balls lying against the cushion of the leather chair, his hand on his dick. Baby girl thought he looked ridiculous. She faced back toward the front, pushing her pussy hard against Michael's hand.

Michael moved between her knees. She felt his tongue make a long, slow stroke from her wet hole to her clit. She moaned uncontrollably. He pulled her lips apart and exposed her tiny bud. She moaned louder when he blew tiny puffs of air directly on it. She screamed when he flicked his tongue against it again and again. He had found her weakness and wasn't letting up. Baby girl begged and cried for release.