Breaking Down a Professional Woman
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We were having coffee for the third time when things took a surprising turn.
She said “You’re very good at talking about the game of submission in this sort of academic way, that follows the stories you like to read; limits, safe words, theatrical dungeons, stone floors, chains, stylish leather wear, dramatic lighting, pain and release, a defined play time. It’s not far from the rest of your life, where you are always planning and always on a schedule and usually achieving your goals, even if your goal is a different erotic direction. But you are missing what’s in it for me, why I end up talking with women like you.”
I looked up from my hazelnut latte with skim milk and my face was hot, not used to being criticized so quickly. I had dressed carefully for this coffee shop meeting, gunmetal gray silk blouse, 2 buttons open, hint of lace bra visible, slim expensive black skirt, tall heels and dark stockings, the fashionable submissive look, a heavy silver wrist cuff to hint at the idea, my hair carefully done. I was trying to collect my thoughts, to respond to this unexpected comment.
“My interest is in the power of control, of taking people who think they are erotic and submissive out of their comfort zone to actually find out for themselves a new depth of feeling about what brought them to need to do this. For most of your life you were a good girl, now you are an educated submissive who has read all the classic books. You want to fit this in with your other roles, as an office leader and a self- sufficient woman with gym classes and a weekend schedule, to get that extra sexual thrill but in a moderate and controlled way.”
She reached over, and took my coffee cup away, and took my wrist firmly. “What interests me is undoing all that, deconstructing you to get to the essence of what you need. It is a simple plan, though; you will do as I say, with no negotiation, but you can walk away any time.” She bent my wrist and slid her hand down, to squeeze my fingers together and dunk them into the warm coffee. And I let her.
She was watching my eyes, and she saw my first small defeat. Fashionable, professional, well-dressed women did not make a mess with their hands in the coffee. It wasn’t a dramatic demand, it was just a small piece of physical control which I accepted, knowing that it would be embarrassing to speak loudly about it.
“Give me your keys, we’ll take your car. Whatever you had planned for this afternoon has changed.” She had let go of my wrist, leaving my fingers still in the latte, and she sat back with an appraising smile, sipping her double espresso. She was watching my eyes and my thoughts, as I removed my hand and sucked the fingers clean. I reached down to pick up my purse, the clever find at the Kate Spade outlet store, and took out my ring of keys with the Lexus key tag.
“You’ve been a good girl for 40 years now, it may take a while to chip away all those layers. You know all the rules, to dress carefully, buy nice things that suit your looks, take care of your grooming and your health, move with modesty, eat politely, do your share, be quiet about your sexuality, cooperate with others. As I find the edges of your old training I will keep pushing them back, to get you to new places. That is the part I enjoy, having to read you in order to break you down.”
She took my keys and stood up to slip on her coat. As I got up, she took my coat from me. “It’s not all that cold, let me keep that for you.” It was cold, in fact, an early winter day with a look of possible snow, and as we walked out I was shivering in only my silk blouse. She beeped the key ring to find my car, walking ahead of me to the dark burgundy sedan with the lights on. She walked around to the passenger side, to open the door for me, but before I could slide in she kept me standing and shivering in the open door. She slipped the keys into her pocket and took my chin with one hand, tilting my head up. Her other hand went to my right breast, cupping and lifting it through the thin blouse. She was looking directly into my eyes from a few inches away.
“Good girls are careful to wear a coat when it’s cold, and would never let anyone touch their body in public like this. Or be as excited about it as you seem to be. Take off this blouse and the bra, right here right now.” We were in the parking lot of the suburban local shopping center, as a few snowflakes drifted down and cars came and went. I had to see what came next. I fumbled in the cold with the silk-covered buttons to open and un-tuck my blouse, and handed the gray silk to her, then the cream lace bra. I was topless in skirt and heels, freezing with aching nipples in the cold. I had never before been undressed like this. It was probably over in 30 seconds, before I slid into my own car, but she was smiling as she closed the door with a solid thunk.
In the car, she reached over to fasten my seatbelt and study the controls. “We are going to be driving for about 20 minutes to my house, I want to see Ümraniye Escort you touching your nipples the whole time, but not covering yourself. Start thinking about what you are becoming.” She drove smoothly, with the wipers brushing the falling snow. She was normally dressed and busy with driving, I was half naked and touching my body as she glanced over.
Another first, I had never touched myself this way with an audience. When we stopped for a red light, in front of the library on Spring Street, she reached over to lift my chin, so that I was sitting straight up in the seat, and turned my face toward the window. The woman in the next car, in her winter coat with a baby seat in the back, turned to look at me and her face showed surprise- I was obviously half naked with my breasts swaying. We were gone with the change of the light, and she kept driving until we turned into a drive in the winding roads of the Hills neighborhood, much more expensive than my own.
The house was set back in the trees, a modern box of gray cedar and large windows with balconies and decks. She parked on the curved drive at the front door and turned to me, with her gloved hand cupping my left breast. My pale cold skin was a contrast with the dark leather.
” Remember, from here on in stop trying to think ahead and just pay attention and react, you will learn new things about yourself.” She went around to open the door and lead me to the house, where I was shivering as she unlocked the green door. Inside, the stone floored hall was high with windows up above, and dark modern furnishings.
Holding my wrist lightly, she led me into a narrow corridor and stopped there.
“Put your hands on the walls, and stay here for a moment.” I was left with my arms out to both sides, standing alone wearing my skirt and heels from before, but naked from the waist up, still shivering. She disappeared into a room, and then came back without her coat. She was wearing a charcoal sweater and skirt, with tall dark boots, but it was a very fashionable upscale suburban look, not a black leather domme costume.
“You need to learn your first position, for inspection. The books always talk about kneeling, or being in some stress position, but the reality is that floors are hard on the knees and you need to be able to do this anywhere I ask, even if we are out somewhere, and it needs to be comfortable for a long time. Turn to face the wall, lean forward with your arms out.”
I shuffled to face the wall, braced my heels and leaned into the wall, with my arms out beyond shoulder width.Her hand went to my shoulder, then slid down my back and around to my side. It was warm on my bare skin.
“This way you aren’t going anywhere, and I have good access to your body. The first thing you give up in submission is privacy and control.” Her hand went around to cup my breast roughly, then down to my belly to feel its embarrassing curve, and up to my lips to open them and explore my teeth. “Spread your legs wider.”
I moved my legs apart a bit, as far as I could in my narrow pencil skirt. “The second thing you need to learn is to dress to allow me this access, nothing that you wear should be a problem for anyone I allow to touch you.” She brought her other hand around into my field of vision, holding a large shiny pair of sewing shears.
“From now on, all your skirts and dresses will have full A line skirts, so your legs can move freely and be seen better.” With the scissors, she began at the hem and cut my skirt upwards so that it flared open, and pushed my legs wider. I was thinking about my favorite new skirt, the one I had searched for and spent more on than I intended, to have just the right look, and now it was ruined.
She cut the skirt off, and then cut through the two sides of my lace panties so they dropped away. In just a minute, I was spread naked as I stood in stockings and heels, with my expensive former clothing puddled on the floor at my feet. She inspected my body with both hands now, touching and probing everywhere as she stood behind me. I felt her hands up my legs, parting my labia,reaching between my legs with her finger tracing my slit, spreading my ass, hefting my breasts, touching my belly and armpits and the back of my neck.
“You see the point, now. Every part of you is mine to touch when I want to, here in my home or anywhere we happen to be, and I will ask you to take this inspection position every time. So, are you excited by this in spite of your training as a better girl than this?” Her fingers explored my hardening nipples, and slid into my vagina to touch my clit and check my wetness. I was wet, breathing slowly, with my nipples aching.
She slid the cold steel of the scissors down my outstretched arm and her fingers trailed into the hollow of my arm pit. “Perhaps we should not allow you to shave anywhere, would that excite you as a means of control? Uncontrolled hair here under your arms and on your legs, a womanly natural bush to Ümraniye Escort Bayan remind you someone else is making your choices now?” She cupped my breast and hefted it. “I could decide to transform you with some plastic surgery, maybe instead of this nice C cup I should make you a D or EE, what do you thing? Something so exaggerated it will be all anyone notices, that woman with the huge breasts? I might just decide to get you only padded bras, to have you on display in your clothing in a way that would amuse me.”
“We both know a lot more about you than we did an hour ago, when you were that cool fashionable woman sipping her latte. You have not objected as you gave up control, gave up all privacy, and presented yourself to me and others as an object. You are in a submissive position, ready for more. Does that sound like the person you thought that you were? So let’s be clear before we go on: this is about trading control for attention, which both of us want to do, but we are not mildly kinky lovers who will laugh and hug later. I never believe those stories about domination as seduction, who would want to allow a submissive to touch them? I have a lover, and she is not you. The power trip for me is to break you down from who you were, to the point that you allow me to make the decisions for you and to keep reminding you what a sexual being you are now. I will have you touching yourself and others, and to be used by others in ways that I think you need. If you leave now, all this hour of excitement has cost you is your fine clothes, I know you’ll want me to keep the silver cuff and the silk blouse for myself. If you stay, all you have is reduction to your lowest level.”
I leaned on the wall, feeling her hands running over me, taking away my areas of privacy. I spread my legs wider and stayed where I was. “Ok then, we know where we are now. Sit on the floor, with your back against the wall, legs out wide and use your hands to present your breasts. Mouth open, too.” The stone floor was cold as I sat on it, and the rough plaster of the wall pricked my back. I was holding my breasts and watching as she took the picture, not smiling but with my mouth wide open.
“This will be your Day One class photo, I’ll send it to you so you can study it. Remember how this felt, to give up your privacy and offer body to me and anyone who sees this.” She showed me the photo on her phone, and I could see the way my high heels and legs in dark stockings framed and emphasized my naked center.
I thought there would be more now, and I was surprised when she stepped away for a few minutes and came back carrying some clothing. She had changed from her sweater to my gray silk blouse, and she was wearing my Tiffany silver cuff on her wrist now. “Stand up now, sub, and I will take you back to pick up my car, I have a full afternoon today. We’ll get you some proper outfits later, just wear these for now.” She handed me a bra, and a pair of shorts and a tee shirt. I saw that the bra was my own, the cream lace Wacoal imported one that had cost much more than I had ever paid for one before; she had used the scissors to roughly cut away the center of the cups, so that my nipples would be exposed. The stained old shirt was cropped off to expose my belly, and the running shorts were sizes too small. When I had dressed, I saw in the hall mirror I looked like a whore in a 30 year old movie, wearing heels and stockings with small shorts and a belly shirt. She, of course, looked fashionable and sophisticated, which was the point. I knew what I was now.
She didn’t call me for days, as I studied the photo in her email and remembered the loaned clothing tucked deep in the back of one my drawers. I heard my phone chime and saw her name on the display. “Yes, Ma’am.”
“Good girl, you remember your place. I think to begin your training we need to get you the right things to wear. I will pick you up at the coffee shop where we met before, bring your credit card, your tallest high heeled shoes, and do not wear more than two pieces of clothing plus a coat. Be there in an hour.”
I checked my watch, and then looked at my closet. Two pieces of clothing: skirt and blouse? Dress and panties? There were not a lot of choices. I settled on a dark print button front dress, something I had worn before to the office, and a new pair of black bikini panties. I slipped on the tall black patent heels and a raincoat as I went out the door, feeling my loose breasts moving under the dress, something I was not used to at all.
When she picked me up at the curb, I slid into her dark car with its leather seats.
She drove me to a small store I had never noticed, in a building set off by itself along a street of professional offices and small apartments. I waited while she came around to open my door, and she took my arm to lead me in. It was a small women’s shop with a French name I could not translate, apparently only open by appointment. A bell on the door rang as she led me Escort Ümraniye in, and we walked across an Oriental rug to a small lounge, with a sofa and chairs. There were no display racks, just few mannequins with what looked like very expensive cocktail wear or brocade suits.
The two women sipping tea looked up and smiled at her, one an older woman with short gray hair and the other with glasses and a smooth blond haircut. Both of them seemed to be wearing the kind of expensive imitations of designer looks which this shop specialized in.
“So you’ve brought in another one, dear? You seem to have such a talent for finding these women.”
“Yes Marie, I seem to attract the needy ones. I brought this one in for your evaluation, and she needs a new wardrobe. Honey, give her your gold card-I’m sure you have one.” My face was red, as I looked in my purse and handed the shop owner the credit card from my wallet. She already knew me too well.
Marie smiled and stood up to take the card. “Yes, let’s begin, we have another bridal party fitting upstairs now. Dear, step up on the low platform by the mirrors.” I moved onto the low riser, with my back to the mirrors. She stepped closer and casually unbuttoned my dress without asking, smiling as she saw I was almost naked under it. She slipped it off me and tossed it aside, leaving me standing in heels and panties as she took pictures from all angles. “Stop holding your breath, relax, let your tummy out. We need to see your flaws so we can work around them.” I sighed, and stopped holding in my stomach and keeping my chest out.
“Actually, Marie, I think this one needs her flaws pointed out and then accentuated, she is way too full of herself I think.” The woman ran her hands over my body, feeling the shape of my belly and breast, pushing my thighs apart, stroking my mound in my panties then sliding them down to my ankles.
” Well, clearly, nicely shaped breasts for someone her age but small, with small nipples, a bit of a belly on her, too many donuts perhaps, wide hips shaky ass and thighs pressing together. Hardly a sexy young 20-something like you usually bring us.”
“So instead of concealing her flaws, help me show them off. What do you suggest?” I had to stand naked, reflected in all the mirrors, as the three women looked me over and ignored my blushing.
“I think we accentuate her curves; a padded bra will remind her she is inadequate and you want her to show more curves, when she is dressed; small g string panties and bikini will make her belly and ass look bigger and her thighs heavier, short pleated skirts will show off her ass and look a little ridiculous on someone her age at the same time, and if we use a fitted bodice like a corset in her dresses it will keep them from being loose and comfortable and accent her new padded bras. And of course all the bras with a front closure for easy access, and dresses with front buttons all the way down.”
“Sounds good, take her measurements and make up a selection of things for her, when I take her home we can collect her other clothing to donate somewhere.” The shop owner went over me with a tape measure as her assistant took down the data, with her hands all over my body, touching everything as she studied my body.
“Ah, let’s see, with your usual discount, it looks like $2,250 for her new clothing, shall I put it on her gold card?”
“Absolutely, and while she is here do you think she could entertain that bridal party? Has the Champagne started flowing up there?”
“I think she might be amusing for them, let me think how to dress her for a moment.” I was still standing naked in heels; she handed me a tiny piece of fabric. “Put on this thong, let me give you some flowers.” It was awkward and embarrassing to have to struggle into the small tight thong as they watched. She came back with a band of flowers laced together, draping it over my shoulders to hang over my breasts like a feather boa. She had a dark red lipstick, that she applied first to my mouth and then to my nipples. “Now, she looks like she could entertain them.”
I turned to the mirror, to see myself as a display and looking foolish, not sultry. The decorative flowers did not cover anything, the small hot pink thong made my belly look more prominent and my ass look bigger, and the high heels left no doubt this was some sort of costume. The woman who had brought me took a leather collar and a silver chain leash out of her bag and fitted it around my neck. She took up the leash and led me to the stairs in the corner. At the top of the stairs, she slipped a rhinestone trimmed blindfold over my eyes. “I don’t think these girls are ready for eye contact with a slut, yet. Just do as I tell you and learn about yourself.”
She opened a door and we stepped out into a flurry of voices, laughing young women here to get their bridesmaids dresses it seemed. “Madame Marie sent you some entertainment, use her as you like.” I felt a tug on my collar as she pulled the leash sharply, and I followed her into the room. I felt a thick carpet, like the one downstairs, and their voices faded as they turned to look at me and then to laugh. I was almost naked, in heels and thong and flowers, collared leashed and blindfolded. I felt my nipples harden and the embarrassing dampness between my legs.
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